Morning clear and rather cold. I attended Dr. Channing’s Meeting and heard Mr. Gannet, his Colleague, both morning and afternoon.1 Although going with every intention and desire to feel the solemnity of the service, there was nothing which could draw that deep pathos from my heart which I experienced last Sunday. Perhaps my soreness had healed. It has somewhat, but if the chord had been touched, it would have burst forth again. This is my first Sunday in Boston this year. It will be followed by many more, and I hope they will on the whole be all as satisfactory as this one. There is much dependance to be placed in religious feeling. It calms the agitation of the mind, and I have traced to it’s healing influence in me, much of the quiet and serenity which I now feel upon the subject which harassed me so last year. This is a prodigious gain. It is of very great importance as it regards my future prosperity. To Mr. Gannet’s Sermons I did not agree; they were the opinions of a man and what is he. Neither more nor less that I am. Some portions, I thought false, others strained, and very few useful. That is the great end. Evening at Mr. Tarbell’s. Conversation and quiet.