Clear and cold. To Cambridge—Examination, return. Afternoon at home. Evening writing.

We arose much earlier than usual in order that I might be ready to start for Cambridge upon the usual examination. Judge Merril and Mr. Cleaveland in the Carriage with me. The examination was of the Junior Class in the Clouds of Aristophanes and was far better than I had expected. So formidable an idea had I entertained of the difficulty of the text that I had feared to go out, but upon reading the piece following the class, I was not only agreeably disappointed as to the difficulty but moreover very much amused by the piece itself. It has a comic humor in it which I did not fully appreciate in the translation published by Mitchell and made by Cumberland.1 The Class appeared exceedingly well. At dinner we were stupid and I missed the old company on the Committee.2 Home. The remainder of the day and evening passed as usual.