Made another attempt to visit a church of Wren’s designing in the city, and this time I hit upon St James’s, Garlickhithe, or hill, which I see that Cunningham pronounces as the worst specimen of his abilities in London. Perhaps it may be so. The rows of columns are set back so as practically to support little, and to make no aisles. They are broken in the centre by openings without much object, and worst of all, they are mounted on high pedestals reaching above the tops of the pews, a fault which nothing but the shelter of the pews prevents from being glaring. The ceiling is however graceful and light. There is a recess behind the altar, in which is a very ordinary picture of the transfiguration. The attendance small. The sermon was from the famous text in Ezekial “can these bones live?” I have heard several discourses on that vision, but none which come up to my notion of what it might produce. Brooks was with me. On my return home, as Mrs Adams was ill with a cold, I went with Mary in the open carriage to take a drive. We went through the pretty region of Highgate and Hampstead. This over, I accompanied Louisa and Brooks on a visit to the Zoological gardens, where they amused themselves in feeding some of the beasts with nuts and bread. We had to dinner Sir Charles and Lady Lyell, with Mr Twisleton. And in the evening Miss Gunnell. The affection of my eye troubled me much all day.