Morning at the Office. Day very dull and rainy. I was engaged a great part of the morning in writing, first, a letter to my Mother in answer to her’s, and next, a Note to Abby according to my promise to her. My spirits were barely tolerable, though they were certainly better after I had given some vent to my feelings in these letters, than they were before. I am surprised however by my father’s silence. After suffering me to leave Washington as he did, I did expect to have at least heard from him soon. But he has other cares and sorrows, and although he should have paid a little more attention to the wound he made so long ago, I will only remember it with grief and with regret. There shall be no anger mixed with it.1 Afternoon, finished Mr. Burke on the Nabob of Arcot’s debts, and continued Mr. Pitkin. Took a book to the House with me in the evening as it rained heavily. It was Percy’s Relics of Ancient English Poetry.2

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.