Busy day writing my private letters to America. Interrupted once or twice by visits. Once by Mr Fernando Wood, who after a total failure of all his treasonable schemes, and a retirement from congress, appears to be disposed to come to Europe for a time until all the action incurred should blow over. I treated him civilly but without opening any conversation. Walk and quiet evening. Spirits sensibly affected by the news from America, still of profitless fighting. We are on the eve of peace, and yet both sides persist in hazarding battles which cannot change the result.