Between twelve and one we crossed Ensham Ferry. The water was like a sea on both sides. I asked the ferryman, "Can we ride the causeway?" He said, "Yes, sir, if you keep in the middle." But this was the difficulty, as the whole causeway was covered with water to a considerable depth. And this in many parts ran over the causeway with the swiftness and violence of a sluice. Once my mare lost both her forefeet, but she gave a spring, and recovered the causeway; otherwise we must have taken a swim, for the water on either side was ten or twelve feet deep. However, after one or two more plunges, we got through and came safe to Whitney.

Monday, February 6. -- I opened the new chapel at Wapping.

Thursday, 16. -- I once more took a serious walk through the tombs in Westminster Abbey. What heaps of unmeaning stone and marble! But there was one tomb which showed common sense: that beautiful figure of Mr. Nightingale endeavoring to screen his lovely wife from death. Here indeed the marble seems to speak, and the statues appear only not alive.

Friday, 24. -- l returned to London. Wednesday, 29. I heard Judith, an oratorio, performed at the Lock. Some parts of it are exceedingly fine; but there are two things in all modern pieces of music which I could never reconcile to common sense. One is singing the same words ten times over; the other, singing different words by different persons at one and the same time. And this, in the most solemn addresses to God, whether by way of prayer or of thanksgiving. This can never be defended by all the musicians in Europe till reason is quite out of date.