Returned to London in company with Mr Sturgis in the early train, and got to my house by ten o’clock. Nothing from America to relieve my anxiety. John’s letter rather indicates even less knowledge than I have. Morning spent in reading the American newspapers which are filled with accounts of the event, and of the mode in which it was received every where. Nothing could be more creditable to the national character. The effect here is visible in the every subdued and respectful tone of the London Times. A newspaper strictly representing time serving morals, and selfish public policy. Received letters from the family at Rome. Cheerful enough. Visits from Mr Steblins just from America. He was in the last Congress, a democrat, who supported the government policy, and was of great service in the financial department. I regretted to find him not very sanguine at the ability of the new Secretary of the Treasury to meet his task. There is the weak point. The President is a cipher, and Mr Seward hardly impressed enough with the difficulties of the question. Dr Ludlow from New York also called. Walk round the east side of Hyde Park— Dined with Mr and Mrs Duncan, and a company principally of Scotch people. Sir Adam Hay and his daughter, Sir G. Montgomery, his Wife and daughter, Mr Harness, Mr Barreda, Mr Schleiden, Mr Peabody were all I made out to identify. My next mother was a Mr Roburton also a Scotchman whose conversation was abundant but a little feeble. All fixhunting squires among whom poor Duncan has taken refuge to save himself from dying of ennui. This is the class of dinners in which I take no satisfaction. Home at half past ten.