A lovely morning with a white mantle of frost over the surface as I left the house to town On my arrival at the Station in Portland road, we ascended the steps into a street enveloped in the thickest fog I have yet seen in London. The first thing I came across was an omnibus entangled with a heavy wagon, which the people were trying to get apart whilst anxiously watching the approach of vehicles on each side, and warning them with loud calls. For a minute or two I was at fault about crossing the only street between myself and my house. The fog appeared very low on the surface, for there was light enough over head. At last I reached my room, but for some time afterwards I heard the warning cries of people in the street still continued. At noon, the sun was shining again. At Ealing, it was clear and fine all day. These fogs are confined to London, and are of varying density even in its difficult parts. I wrote the rest of my letters, and all the necessary papers for the outgoing steamer. Home at five, and walked form the station under a brilliant moon. Henry came out with Mr Erickson at six. He applied caustic to Mary’s wound, but pronounced very favorably on its condition. He dined here and returned at half past nine. Quiet evening— My spirits however not a little depressed in the prospect of the future, especially in the condition of both my daughters.