Summer emerges all of a sudden. Finished up my Quarterly account, and sundry small details. Visits from Mr Cantwell, of Dublin, who came to know of the result of the application for his Exequatur. I told him precisely how the case stood. Lord Russell had requested a different selection, and I had made that report to the Department. Meanwhile it was agreed that the present arrangement should continue. Mr Cantwell intimated that the objection to him had been investigated by Mr West, now acting as Consuls which is not unlikely. At the same time the appointment was now a fit me. Nothing will cure the President and Mr Seward of the itch to send Irish refugees as Consuls in Ireland. Yet they would be much offended if the British Government are to select Mr Soulé as consul for Mr Orleans. Mr Cleveland likewise called. He has resigned his post at Cardiff and returns home. The wonder is he should ever have taken it. The idea of a Consulship seems to have unsettled the visits of myriads of people at the outset of this Administration—and the President who really knew as little about it as any one used it as a sort of mentor indiscriminately to pay off political accounts. Day and evening otherwise quiet.