At 4.35 in the morning we had reached London, and I was in my house before five o’clock. Although I had given notice, the domestics were taken by surprise and every thing was in confusion. The cleaning ordered by Mrs Adams during our absence was not complete so that it was not without difficulty I made out to get into my chamber and into a unmade bed, in order to sleep a few hours. I am not a bad traveller in a carriage, but there is a sense of relief in getting rid of the ligatures of clothes. On my return to my labors I found the customary accumulation of objects first to examine and afterwards to answer. Despatches from Washington and letters from my sons. This left me no leisure even for the America Newspapers. Not having any interruptions I made rapid progress in drafting replies to the Despatches of two weeks. But I hardly saved time enough for a walk. Striking is the change in London Streets since I left, at least in this end of it. No crowd, little bustle. No equipages, very few well dressed men. The houses most them carefully shut up. Yet the effect of it on me was pleasant rather than otherwise. It seemed to show repose. No visiting, no court, no receptions, no Parliament, no foreign office. My cares were confined to my own line of duties which occasion no nervous irritability. I am released from the task of subduing my feelings to the level of an unsympathizing social circle. My evening was passed in working up the arrears of this Diary caused by an absence nearly three weeks—and I went to bed comfortable and serene.