A gentleman by the name of Wilt has been civil enough to write me to attend service at the Queen’s Chapel in the Savoy, which is rather a curious building, so I went. It is a small structure, not holding more than forty or fifty pews. The room is a plain rectangle with a gallery at the end. The service was all chanted excepting the prayers. The sermon upon love to one’s neighbor, much as usual. There are two or three quite old monuments, which like all the rest of the interior have been carefully restored. This Chapel is all that remains of the Savoy palace, and belongs annual rent from the whole estate, but more than half is swallowed up from the charges of officers who do little or nothing. Mrs Adams and I drove home, leaving Mr Brooks to go with the son of Dr Wilt. In the afternoon I took quite a walk through the Regent’s park. The crowd amused me— Many stopping to listen to the music of a band playing the gayest of tunes, whilst withing hearing I encountered not less than three persons preaching to greater or less assemblages of men. The day was really very fine. In the evening I went to Edward Brooks’s.