A bright, clear morning, the first I have seen here for some time. Off at nine o’clock for London. As we passed in the train I noticed the country quite white with frost, and even the formation of spicula of ice in the still water. At the Legation I was a little hurried to get my private letters ready. Received the telegram from America quite early in the day, though it contained no very important intelligence. My anxiety about my son however throws a shade of apprehension upon all these arrivals. I thank Heaven he yet remains unhurt. Henry returned to St Leonard’s. Walk in the evening. The days grow so short as to bring me once more to that necessity. Worked on the arrears of my Diary, and read some of Dr Phillimore.