Monday, July 3:
Dull morning, then a shower of rain; yesterday was a gift, now the sad rule of gray skies takes over. The newspapers downright disgust us with their reports of the review and the loan in Paris. After this war they hold a review of troops and congratulate themselves on having defeated the National Guard. No shame, no pride.
R. is indisposed, but he works. I write to my lawyer in Paris, who is not sending me any money. A long time reading Carlyle in the evening.