Morning cloudy with snow which surprised me. The contending powers of heat and cold begin to struggle during this month and make it the most uncomfortable of the year. I went to the Office, where I read some of Sismondi, and wrote a letter to Roger Jones Adjutant General1 and received one from my father inclosing the bond executed on his part.2

No public news excepting the developements of the fraud carried on in the Commonwealth Bank which exceed all hypothesis. Here is the key to the follies of the last two years. Yet how many men who are guiltless will suffer and how many of the perjured villains will go un-whipped of justice. This is life and as such we derive a lesson.

Home. Sophocles. Oedipus of Coloni, though apparently not more difficult it is very clear to me what a difference my College study 400which I looked down upon has made in this and the other. Afternoon, Aristotle, Politics in which there is much wisdom. Evening finished reading the Lay of the last Minstrel, a poem with much poetic fire, some invention, much sweetness and only disfigured by it’s tawdry display of hero Scotch freebooters as deserving of historical renown. Afterwards Potter’s Archaeology.