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party to breakfast. They had to travel all the way to Philadelphia before they could break their fast.

The same gentleman told me that he believed if a white man of any standing in society in New York were now to marry a coloured lady, however intelligent and accomplished, his life would be in danger,–he would be lynched for having committed such an outrage upon “public opinion.” And yet the boast is ever ringing in our ears, “This is a free country–every one does as he pleases here!”

On the 24th of March I called upon Dr. Spring. He is an Old School Presbyterian, and a supporter of the Colonization Society. In the course of conversation reference was made to State Churches.

_Myself._–“You see, Doctor, State Churches are the curse of the British Empire, just as slavery is the curse of your country.”

_The Doctor._–“Ah! so it is; and yet we can do nothing to remove them. Here is our slavery,–we can’t touch it; and you cannot touch your Established Church. Do you think you will ever get rid of it?”

_Myself._–“Oh! Yes; I hope so.”

_The Doctor._–“But it will be a _very_ long time before it comes to pass.”

_Myself._–“Perhaps not so very long. We are rapidly hastening towards some great change. The old principle of an Establishment is now being abandoned by all parties; and we shall soon come either to the pay-all or to the pay-none principle. I am much afraid it will be the former.”

_The Doctor._–“But were it to come to that, and the State would pay you as well as all the rest, you would have no further ground of complaint.”

_Myself._–“Oh! but we should: we dread that above all other evils. It will be a dark day for evangelical religion in England, if ever that principle be adopted.”

_The Doctor._–“Why? What harm can it do you to receive the money of the State, provided it does not infringe upon your liberties?”

_Myself._–“In the first place, it would be a departure from the law of Jesus Christ, and every departure from his law is sure to be productive of evil.”

_The Doctor._–“Very true. That’s a sound principle–that every departure from his law will be productive of evil; but then, it remains to be proved that it _is_ a departure from his law. However, I am glad to see you stick so firmly to your principles.”

He then went on to ask if I would preach for him next Sabbath. Now, whether he was only trying me on those points, or whether he had not studied the subject, or whether he was anxious to keep me off from the subject of slavery, I cannot tell. But I came away with my knowledge of Dr. Spring less than it was when I entered. He seemed like a cold, stiff, formal State parson.

In the evening I attended a missionary meeting in Dr. Adams’s Church. It was the anniversary of the New York and Brooklyn Auxiliary to the Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, and embraced about thirty churches. I expected great things. When I entered they were singing. The place was little more than half-full,–say 500 persons. Three gentlemen were sitting in the pulpit. These were Dr. Adams, Dr. Cox, and Mr. Storrers. I looked around for the negro pew. There it was on the left of the organ, and five sable friends in it. The first speaker was Dr. Adams, who delivered a well-prepared oration of half an hour long. The Rev. Mr. Storrers, a young man, the pastor of the “Church of the Pilgrims” in Brooklyn, was the next speaker. His preparation and delivery were of the same character as those of Dr. Adams. But he possesses great mental power. He occupied exactly half an hour. Both speakers complained bitterly of diminished confidence and contributions. I forget the exact amount announced as the contribution of this auxiliary; but it was small. Dr. Cox, of Brooklyn, was the third speaker. He told us that the last meeting he had attended in England, a few months before, was the missionary meeting in Birmingham. It was held in the town-hall, a magnificent building, and well filled. He pronounced an eloquent eulogy on John Angell James. He described the missionary breakfast in Birmingham; but, in mentioning such a thing as a “missionary breakfast,” he felt it necessary to make some apology. He assured them it was not attended with the evils they might be apt to imagine would be inseparably connected with it. The fact is that missionary breakfasts are altogether unknown in America. Dr. Cox stated that he had often been asked in England how they managed missionary meetings in America, that the people of England held them in high estimation, that in England they depended chiefly for the support of the missionary cause upon legacies, stock, &c., while they in America were content to say, “Give us day by day our daily bread.” He also mentioned Dr. Chalmers’s eulogy upon them. While in England, he (Dr. Cox) and another had waited upon Sir Stratford Canning, to commend their mission at Constantinople to his kind notice, and Sir Stratford had spoken in very high terms of the American people. Thus, even at the missionary meeting, incense must be offered to national vanity.


A Visit to Mount Vernon–Dr. Robinson–Welsh Deputation–Queen Anne and New York–The Sabbath–Preaching at Dr. L’s–Afternoon Service at Mr. C—-‘s–Tea at Dr. L—-‘s–Evening Service at Mr.—-‘s.

The next day my wife and I paid our promised visit to the institution of the Abbotts at Mount Vernon. In its government there are neither rewards nor punishments; but each pupil, at the close of the day, has to present a brief report of her own conduct. Her good deeds and her bad deeds must be alike proclaimed–proclaimed by herself,–and that in the presence of her fellow-pupils who were witnesses of the conduct to which she refers. This compels her to be faithful. If she tries to conceal what was faulty, she is surrounded by those who will detect that concealment: if she ostentatiously parades her own excellences, she knows she will sink in the estimation of her friends. The encouragement of self-respect, and of a regard for that which is good for its _own_ sake, are the great principles of government in this establishment.

Mr. Abbott’s plan of teaching a language is, not at first to weary the pupils with the dry rules of grammar, but to store their memories with words. He read a word or a short sentence in French, for instance, and asked the pupils to translate it into English. Then, with closed books, he would give them the English in like manner to be turned into French. I have since adopted the plan with Latin pupils with pleasure and success.

Mr. Abbott allows a recess of five minutes at the close of every half-hour. The hours of attendance are from 9 A.M. to 2 P.M.; but a rest of half an hour is allowed in the midst of that period. We happened to be there when the said half-hour arrived. All the Abbotts, the pupils, and ourselves went out to the playground, which was furnished with seats, and swings, and skipping-ropes, and swinging-boats, and all sorts of machines for exercise and amusement. In these gymnastic performances the Abbotts themselves joined the pupils, with a beautiful combination of freedom and propriety. A happier assemblage I never saw. We retired highly delighted with all we had witnessed.

In the afternoon I had the honour of being introduced to Dr. Robinson, whose Greek Lexicon I had often thumbed with advantage. He appeared to be from 45 to 50 years of age. His manners were exceedingly simple and unostentatious,–the constant characteristics of true greatness. I looked upon him with high respect and veneration. He is a man of whom America may well be proud. He pressed me to go and address the students at Union College, of which he is one of the Professors; but an opportunity of doing so did not occur.

In the evening I was waited upon by two gentlemen who announced themselves as the “President and Secretary” of a Welsh Temperance Society, and wished me to attend and address one of their meetings at a given time. This I could not do. In conversation with them about slavery, and the oppression of the coloured people, I was surprised and grieved to find how soon the Welsh people imbibed the feelings and aped the conduct of the Americans in those matters. On their pressing me to attend a meeting of their society on some _future_ occasion, I told them I was one of the most downright Abolitionists that ever lived, and, if I came, would terrify them all with such an abolition speech as they had never heard. This, of course, was cold water upon their love, and our interview soon terminated.

The weather for the next two days was so unfavourable that we could not go out at all. Among the information I then derived from books were the following precious morsels from the Introduction to the Natural History of New York: “The Governor was directed by Queen Anne to take especial care that the Almighty should be devoutly and duly served according to the rites of the Church of England,” and was at the _same time_ desired by the Queen “to take especial care that the colony should have a constant and sufficient supply of merchantable negroes at moderate rates.” Just what our own West India planters _now_ want! Oh! how they would hail the return of the palmy days of Queen Anne!

On Sabbath the 28th of March I was invited to preach in the morning in the church of Dr. L—-, a Congregational place of worship, capable of accommodating about 500 persons. The attendance was not more than 200. There I was delighted to find no negro pew. A few coloured children were intermingled with the white ones in the gallery. The Doctor, to whom I had not been introduced, was already in the pulpit when I arrived. The ceremony of introduction to each other had to be duly performed in the rostrum. He is a fine, tall, clean, and venerable-looking old gentleman. He began the service, and, before sermon, announced that they would then “take up” the usual collection. That place of worship is what they call a “Free Church,”–_i.e._ there is no pew-letting; as a substitute for which, they “take up” a weekly collection. The Doctor also made the following announcement: “A Missionary of the London Missionary Society, from Guiana, one of the South American possessions of Britain,–his name is Mr. Davies,–will now preach; and in the evening Professor Kellog from—-, a _long_ friend of mine, will preach.” At the close I was introduced to the Doctor’s _long_ friend, Professor Kellog; and sure enough he was a “long” one! There was present also Professor Whipple, of the Oberlin Institute, to whom I had before been introduced.

In the afternoon I preached for a Mr. C—-, in a Presbyterian Church. The place was beautiful, commodious, and nearly full. The pastor introduced the service. In his manner of doing so, I was very much struck with–what I had before often observed in our Transatlantic brethren–a great apparent want of reverence and fervour. The singing was very good–in the choir. In my address, I urged them to give their legislators, and their brethren in the South, no rest till the guilt and disgrace of slavery were removed from their national character and institutions. I also besought them, as men of intelligence and piety, to frown upon the ridiculous and contemptible prejudice against colour wherever it might appear. To all which they listened with apparent kindness and interest.

We took tea by invitation with Dr. L—-, for whom I had preached in the morning. There we met with his nice wife, nice deacon, nice little daughters, and nice nieces,–but a most intolerable nephew. This man professed to be greatly opposed to slavery, and yet was full of contempt for “niggers.” He talked and _laughed_ over divisions in certain churches, and told the company how he used occasionally to go on Sunday nights to hear a celebrated minister, just “for the sake of hearing him _talk_–ha–ha–ha!” And yet this was a professor of religion!

On the subject of slavery the following conversation took place:–

_Nephew._–“If I were in a Slave State, I would not hold slaves.”

_Aunt._–“Ah! but you would.”

_Nephew._–“No! that I would not.”

_Aunt._–“You could not live there without.”

_Dr. L._—-(gravely).–“Well, I _guess_ we had better pray, ‘Lead us not into temptation.'”

_Aunt._ (devoutly)–“I _guess_ we had.”

By-and-by one of the young ladies said to my wife, “I guess we had better go and fix our things, and get ready for church.” This was the signal for the breaking up of our social enjoyment, which would have been one of unmingled pleasure, had it not been for this noisy, conceited, talkative nephew.

In the evening I had to preach again for Mr.—-, the place where the coloured gentleman was refused admission to the body of the church. The building was very fine, and the congregation very large. Professor Fowler, of Amherst College, who happened to be present, read the Scriptures and prayed. My subject was “the woes and wants of the African race.” I touched upon American slavery, and gave details of the horrors of the slave traffic as at present carried on. I also bore testimony against the cruel prejudice which so extensively exists against the African colour. All were attentive, except one man, who rose and walked out; and I fancied him saying to himself, “I am not going to sit here to listen to this abolition nonsense any longer.” And so ended my Sabbath in New York.


The Rev. Theodore Sedgwick Wright–His Testimony against Caste–His Funeral–Drs. Cox and Patton–The Service in the House–The Procession–The Church–The Funeral Oration–Mrs. Wright.

During my stay at this time in New York, there died in that city the Rev. Theodore Sedgwick Wright, a Presbyterian minister of colour. His attainments and talents were very respectable; and for fifteen years he had been the successful pastor of a church of coloured people in the city.

Before you accompany me to his funeral, listen to his voice. Though “dead, he yet speaketh.” He had felt this cruel prejudice against the colour of his skin as iron entering his soul. Here is his touching testimony on the subject, delivered in a speech at Boston eleven years before his death:–

“No man can really understand this prejudice, unless he feels it crushing him to the dust, because it is a matter of feeling. It has bolts, scourges, and bars, wherever the coloured man goes. It has bolts in all the schools and colleges. The coloured parent, with the same soul as a white parent, sends his child to the seats of learning; and he finds the door bolted, and he sits down to weep beside his boy. Prejudice stands at the door, and bars him out. Does the child of the coloured man show a talent for mechanics, the heart of the parent beats with hope. He sees the children of the white man engaged in employment; and he trusts that there is a door open to his boy, to get an honest living, and become a useful member of society. But, when he comes to the workshop with his child, he finds a bolt there. But, even suppose that he can get this first bolt removed, he finds other bars. He can’t work. Let him be ever so skilled in mechanics, up starts prejudice, and says, ‘I won’t work in the shop if you do.’ Here he is scourged by prejudice, and has to go back, and sink down to some of the employments which white men leave for the most degraded. He hears of the death of a child from home, and he goes in a stage or a steam-boat. His money is received, but he is scourged there by prejudice. If he is sick, he can have no bed, he is driven on deck: money will not buy for him the comforts it gets for all who have not his complexion. He turns to some friend among the white men. Perhaps that white man had sat at his table at home, but he does not resist prejudice here. He says, ‘Submit. ‘Tis an ordinance of God,–you must be humble.’ Sir, I have felt this. As a minister, I have been called to pass often up and down the North River in steam-boats. Many a night I have walked the deck, and not been allowed to lie down in a bed. Prejudice would even turn money to dross when it was offered for these comforts by a coloured man. Thus prejudice scourges us from the table; it scourges us from the cabin, from the stage-coach, from the bed. Wherever we go, it has for us bolts, bars, and rods.”

And now let us attend the speaker’s funeral. Professor Whipple will be our guide. As we proceed, crowds of coloured people are hastening in the same direction from all quarters. We are at the house. But so great is the throng that it is impossible to get in. Here, however, comes Dr. Cox. “Make room for Dr. Cox!”–“Make room for Dr. Cox!” is now heard on every hand. A path is opened for the great man, and we little men slip in at his skirt. On reaching the room where the remains of the good man lie, we find Dr. Patton and the Rev. Mr. Hatfield. They and Dr. Cox are there in a semi-official capacity, as representing the Presbytery with which Mr. Wright was connected. Louis Tappan, the long-tried and faithful friend of the coloured race, is there also. I am asked to be a pall-bearer: without at all reflecting on the duties and inconveniences of the office, I good-naturedly consent. A _white_ cotton scarf is instantly thrown over my shoulder. There is the coffin; and there is a lifelike portrait of Mr. Wright hung up against the wall, and looking as it were down upon that coffin. But you can see the face of Mr. Wright himself. The coffin-lid is screwed down; but there is a square of glass, like a little window, just over the face, as is generally the case in America, and you can have a view of the whole countenance.

A black man reads a hymn, and, in connection with it, begins an address in a very oracular style, and with very solemn pauses. A hint is given him not to proceed. They sing. Mr. Hatfield delivers an appropriate address. A coloured minister prays, sometimes using the first person singular, and sometimes the first person plural; also talking about the “meanderings of life,” and a great deal of other nonsense.

We move down stairs. The immense procession starts. Drs. Cox and Patton, Mr. Hatfield, and about half-a-dozen more white ministers, are in it. As we pass on from street to street, and from crossing to crossing, all sorts of people seem to regard the procession with the utmost respect. The cabmen, ‘busmen, and cartmen behave exceedingly well. But did you overhear what those three or four low dirty men said as we approached? I am ashamed to tell, because those men are not Americans, but _Irishmen_,–“Here comes the dead nigger!” The boys, now and then, are also overheard counting how many _white_ men there are in the procession.

We are now at the church. After much delay and difficulty we enter. The place, which is not large, is crammed. There must be about 600 people in. Dr. Cox urges them to make room for more, and says there are not more than one-tenth in of those who wish to enter. If so, there must be a concourse of 6,000 people, and not more than twenty whites among them all!

A coloured man gives out a hymn. Dr. Cox reads the Scriptures, and makes a few remarks. Dr. Patton delivers an oration. In that oration, while speaking of Mr. Wright’s anti-slavery feelings as being very strong, he adds, with very questionable taste, “But at the same time our brother had no sympathy with those who indulged in _denunciation, wrath, and blackguardism_. He would never touch the missiles which _none but scoundrels use_.” What a selection of words in a funeral oration! In speaking of Mr. Wright’s labours in connection with that church for fifteen years, he says, “Our brother had difficulties which other men have not. Two or three years ago he had to trudge about the city, under the _full muzzle_ of a July or August sun, to beg money in order to extricate this place from pecuniary difficulties. On one occasion, after walking all the way to the upper part of the city to call upon a gentleman from whom he hoped to receive a donation, he found that he had just left his residence for his office in the city. Our brother, though greatly exhausted, was compelled to walk the same distance down again; for–to the shame, the everlasting shame of our city be it spoken–our brother, on account of his colour, could not avail himself of one of the public conveyances. The next week disease laid hold of him, and he never recovered.”

What a strong and unexpected testimony against that cruel prejudice! According to this testimony, Theodore Sedgwick Wright fell a _victim_ to it. But who would have thought that Dr. Patton, who thus denounced the cabmen and ‘busmen of New York, had at the very time the “Negro Pew” in his own church!

While on this subject, let me tell you another fact respecting poor Mr. Wright. The life of his first wife was sacrificed to this heartless and unmanly feeling. He was travelling with her by steam-boat between New York and Boston. They had to be out all night, and a bitter cold winter’s night it was. Being coloured people, their only accommodation was the “hurricane-deck.” Mrs. Wright was delicate. Her husband offered to pay any money, if they would only let her be in the kitchen or the pantry. No,–she was a “nigger,” and could not be admitted. Mr. Wright wrapped her in his own cloak, and placed her against the chimney to try to obtain for her a little warmth. But she took a severe cold, and soon died. _His_ colour, it would seem, hastened his own exit to rejoin her in that world where such absurd and inhuman distinctions are unknown.

Dr. Patton’s oration is now ended. But–did you ever hear such a thing at a funeral?–that minister in the table pew is actually giving out–

“Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!”

and they sing it to a funeral tune!

We start for the place of burial. But it is a long way off, and I had better spare you the journey. The great men fell off one after another; but my pall-bearing office compelled me to remain to the last. It was 4 o’clock P.M. before the solemnities were closed.


Trip to New Haven–Captain Stone and his Tender Feeling–Arrival in New Haven–A Call from Dr. Bacon and the Rev. Mr. Dutton–Newspapers–The Centre Church and Standing Order–The North Church and Jonathan Edwards, junior.

Now for an excursion to New Haven. We leave by the steamer “Traveller,” Captain Stone, at 61/2 A.M. Wrap yourself up well; it is piercing cold, being the 30th of March. This boat is altogether different from the boats on the Mississippi. It seems to belong to quite another species. It is, however, admirably adapted for its purpose,–that of running along a stormy coast. In the gentlemen’s cabin are three tiers of berths, one above another like so many book-shelves. The engine works outside, like a top-sawyer. We shall pass “Hell Gate” directly; but don’t be alarmed. You would not have known it, had I not told you. The Hog’s Back, the Frying Pan, and other places of Knickerbocker celebrity, are in this neighbourhood.

Let us go to the ladies’ saloon. Well! I declare! There is a coloured woman, and allowed to remain unmolested! Things improve as we approach New England, and are much better even there than they were a few years ago.

But here comes the captain muffled up. He brings with him a poor sickly-looking woman, begs the ladies’ pardon, and bids her sit down by the stove and warm herself. He then tells the passengers her painful story. The night before, in New York, this woman came on board, from one of the Philadelphia boats, bringing with her a bed and a child. On being spoken to by the captain, she informed him that she was on her way from St. Louis to her home in Massachusetts,–that she had been fifteen days upon the journey, and had two children with her. On being asked where the other was, she replied, “There it is,” pointing to the bed, where, clad in its usual dress, the little sufferer, released from the trials of life, lay extended in death. It had caught cold, and died in her arms in New York. She was friendless and penniless, and wanted a passage to New Haven. The captain had obtained a coroner’s inquest over the body, purchased for it a little coffin, had it decently laid out, and gratified her maternal feelings by allowing her to bring it with her, that it might be buried in her village-home in Massachusetts. All this he had done without money and without price, had also given her a free passage to New Haven, and was about to forward her home by railway at his own expense! Captain _Stone_–“what’s in a name?”–at the close of this statement had to take out his pocket-handkerchief, and wipe away a few manly tears from his weather-beaten cheeks, as he added, “I have met in my life with many cases of distress, but with none that came so much to my heart as this.” His object, in introducing the woman and her case, was to make an appeal to the passengers on her behalf. He did so; and the result was a subscription amounting to about five pounds sterling, which was handed over to her. Captain Stone’s was a deed worthy of a golden inscription!

It is half-past 11 A.M., and we are now at the landing-place in the harbour of New Haven, having accomplished the distance from New York, about 80 miles, in five hours! We have a long wharf of 3,943 feet to travel; and then we set foot for the first time on the soil of New England. We have been invited to make our abode here with the Rev. Leicester Sawyer, who makes his abode at Deacon Wilcoxon’s, corner of Sherman-avenue and Park-street. Thither, therefore, let us go. Mr. Sawyer, whom we had before met in New York, is the author of several books, comprising two on Mental and Moral Philosophy, and was also lately the President of the Central College of Ohio. Deacon Wilcoxon and his wife are plain, homely, kind Christian people. They make you feel at home as soon as you have crossed their threshold.

Soon after our arrival the Rev. Dr. Bacon and the Rev. Mr. Dutton, the pastors of the “first” and “second” Congregational Churches in this city, honour us with a call. This is brotherly, and more than we could have expected. Dr. Bacon regrets that he is going from home, and cannot have us to spend a few days at his house. Mr. Dutton, however, presses us to accept of his hospitality. We promise to do so in a day or two. Dr. Bacon is one of the great men of New England. He is a living encyclopaedia,–a walking library. He keeps fully up with the literature and sciences of the day. I have not met a man, either in the Old World or in the New, that so thoroughly understood the state of the British West Indies at the present time as he does. He might have spent years in that part of the world, and devoted himself to its exclusive study. His position at home is high, and his influence great. The estimation in which he is held in New England may be judged of by the fact, that when, in August 1846, Dr. Theodore Dwight Woolsey had to be installed as President of Yale College, Dr. Bacon, living within a stone’s throw of that institution, was the man chosen to preach the inauguration sermon.

In the middle of the afternoon, my friend Mr. Sawyer presses me to preach in his place of worship–the Howe-street Church–this evening. I consent. By-and-by I observe him very busy with some slips of paper; and I ask him what he is doing? “I am sending,” he says, “notices to the evening papers, to make it known that you are going to preach this evening!” What a people the Americans are for newspapers! New Haven has only a population of about 18,000; and yet it has six daily papers–all having a weekly issue besides, two monthly periodicals, and two quarterly ones! The daily papers are, I believe, none of them more than 5 dollars (a guinea) a year, or 2 cents (one penny) per number. No paper duty, and no stamp. At the service in the evening several ministers and students were present.

The next day snow to the depth of six inches cover the ground. Let _us_, however, turn out in the afternoon. We will go and see the central square,–or the Green, as it is commonly called. This is a large open space like a park, surrounded on all sides with rows of stately elms, and is considered one of the most beautiful spots in the United States. And now we are in a position to take a full view. Three churches, arranged side by side on this open space, at a few rods from each other, stand before us. The central one has the most imposing aspect. It is a large Grecian building; having a portico, supported by four massive columns, from which rises a lofty bell-tower, ending in a spire. The combination of the belfry or spire with the Grecian style is a violation of propriety; but _I like it_. This is the “first” Congregational Church–that in which Dr. Bacon ministers. That church–not the building–is coeval with the colony, and can trace back its history for more than 200 years. It was formerly a State Church. Congregationalism was for ages the “standing order,” or the established religion, in Connecticut! All the people were taxed for its support; and no man could have any share in the administration of the civil government, or give his vote in any election, unless he was a member of one of the churches. It was not till forty years after the separation of Church and State in Virginia, where the establishment was Episcopal, that the example was followed in Connecticut. Happily, however, in 1816 all parties that differed from it–Episcopalians, Baptists, Methodists, Universalists, &c., combined together, gained a majority in the legislature, and severed the connection between Congregationalism and the State! There are old men now living who then anxiously and piously “trembled for the Ark of the Lord.” They have, however, lived to see that the dissolution of the union between Church and State in Connecticut, as in Virginia, was to the favoured sect as “life from the dead.” The Congregationalist of the one, and the Episcopalian of the other, would alike deprecate being placed in the same position again. But this is a digression.

We are still looking at these churches. The church on our right, which is about the same size and of the same architectural character as the other, though not quite so showy, is the “second” Congregational Church, commonly called the North Church–that in which Mr. Button now ministers. This church originated in the “great awakening” in 1740, was formed in 1742, and has a history of more than a century in duration. It arose from dissatisfaction with the ministry of a Mr. Noyes, a contemporary of Jonathan Edwards, but one who had no sympathy in Edwards’s views and spirit. This man was, indeed, greatly opposed to the “awakening,” and refused George Whitfield admission to his pulpit. The originators of this second church, therefore, separated from the original parent, availed themselves of the Act of Toleration, and became Congregational Dissenters from a Congregational Establishment! They had of course no State support, nor were they “free from taxation by the society from which they dissented.” “The foundations of this church, my brethren,” said its present gifted pastor, in a sermon preached at the centenary of its formation, “are love of evangelical doctrine, of ecclesiastical liberty, of revivals of religion. Such ever be its superstructure.”

Here, for a quarter of a century, lived and laboured Jonathan Edwards the younger. Perhaps you have never before heard of him; neither had I till I came to New Haven. If you won’t think it too long to be detained here standing in front of the church, I will tell you a few facts respecting him. He was the second son and ninth child of the celebrated Jonathan Edwards of Northampton. His mother, too, was an extraordinary woman. You will smile at the impression she made on the mind of good old George Whitfield. He had spent two days at Mr. Edwards’s house in Northampton; and he says, “I felt wonderful satisfaction in being at the house of Mr. Edwards. He is a son himself, and hath a daughter of Abraham for his wife. A sweeter couple I have not yet seen. She is a woman adorned with a meek and quiet spirit, and talked so feelingly and solidly of the things of God, and seemed to be such a helpmeet to her husband, that she caused me to renew those prayers which for some months I have put up to God, that he would send me a daughter of Abraham to be my wife. I find, upon many accounts, it is my duty to marry. Lord, I desire to have no choice of my own. Thou knowest my circumstances.”

In quoting this, an American writer adds, “He had not yet learned, if he ever did, that God is not pleased to make such ‘sweet couples’ out of persons who have no choice of their own.”

Mr. Edwards, junior, or rather Dr. Edwards, was (like his father) a great scholar and a profound divine. He was frequently invited to assist at the examinations in Yale College. On those occasions he used frequently to display his strictness and accuracy by calling out, “_Haud recte_” (not right). This procured him the _sobriquet_ of “Old Haud Recte,” by which he was afterwards known among the students. Some time after his resignation of the pastorate of this church he became the President of Union College. His works have recently been published in two large octavo volumes. There is a striking parallel between the father and the son. They were alike in the character of their minds and in their intellectual developments. The name, education, and early employments of the two were alike. Both were pious in their youth; both were distinguished scholars; both were tutors for equal periods in the colleges where they were respectively educated; both were settled in the ministry as successors to their maternal grandfathers; both were dismissed, and again settled in retired places, where they had leisure to prepare and publish their works; both were removed from those stations to become presidents of colleges; both died shortly after their respective inaugurations, the one in the 56th and the other in the 57th year of their age; and each of them preached on the first Sabbath of the year of his death from the same text–“This year thou shalt die!”

But we must not dwell too long on these historical incidents. I have told you something about the Centre Church and the North Church. That Gothic building on our left is an episcopal church. That white building immediately in the rear of the Centre Church is the State House, completed in 1831. It is constructed of stone and marble, and forms a prominent ornament of the city. It presents one of the best copies of a Grecian temple I have seen in the States. In the rear of the North Church, quite at the remote corner of the Green, stands a plain barn-like Methodist chapel. And, behind the whole, peeping through the elm-trees, you see the long range of buildings which constitutes Yale College. Take it all in all, a view more interesting than that from the spot on which we now stand I have never beheld.


The Spot on which Whitfield preached–Judge Daggett–Governor Yale –Yale College–The Libraries–Elliot’s Indian Bible–Geological Museum–Dr. Goodrich–Education and Expenses at Yale College–The Graves of the Regicides.

Before I take you to “Yale,” let me show you the spot on the Green on which, in 1745, Whitfield, being refused admission to the Congregational church, preached in the open air, under a tree, to an immense congregation,–so great at that time was the dislike to a fervid evangelical ministry. But more than a century has rolled away; and how changed is the scene!

But, observe you that feeble, tottering old gentleman coming along the avenue? It is the Hon. David Daggett, LL.D., late Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Connecticut. He is a member, and, I believe, a deacon of one of the Congregational churches in this city. Twelve or thirteen years ago that very man, sitting on the judicial bench, condemned Miss Randall to be punished for–teaching a coloured child to read!

Now for Yale. The Rev. Samuel W. S. Dutton, the minister of the North Church, will accompany us. This institution was founded in the year 1700. It derived its name from the Hon. Elihu Yale, a gentleman, I am proud to say, descended from an ancient and respectable family in Wales. His father, Thomas Yale, Esq., came over with the first settlers of New Haven. His son Elihu went to England at ten years of age, and to the East Indies at thirty. In the latter country he resided about twenty years, was made Governor of Madras, acquired a large fortune, returned to England, was chosen Governor of the East India Company, and died at Wrexham in Denbighshire in 1721. On several occasions he made munificent donations to the new institution during the years of its infancy and weakness, on account of which the trustees by a solemn act named it “Yale College.”

The college buildings–which, like Rome, were not all erected in a day–consist of four plain spacious edifices, built of brick, each four stories high, and presenting a front, including passage-ways, of about 600 feet. That neat white house on your right, as you stand before these buildings, is the President’s dwelling–the very house in which resided Dr. Timothy Dwight. But you are not looking at it. Ah! I see your attention is attracted by that student sitting on the sill of the open window of his study, having in his hand a book, and in his mouth a pipe of clay; by which, with the aid of fire, he is reducing a certain tropical weed into its original chemical elements. Perhaps you think that rather undignified; and so it is. I wish you had not seen it; but worse is done at Oxford and Cambridge.

Behind this range of buildings is another, a more modern and more imposing pile. This extends in front 151 feet, is built of red sandstone, is in the Gothic style, and contains the libraries of the institution. The central building, called the College Hall, containing the College Library properly so called, measures in front 51 feet, and in depth from front to rear 95 feet, having at each corner a tower of the extreme height of 91 feet. The interior is one room, whose measurement is 83 feet by 41, resembling in form a Gothic chapel, with its nave and aisles. The nave is 51 feet high, and its breadth 17 feet. Between its clustered pillars on either side are alcoves, each 10 feet by 12, fitted up with shelves for books. The number of volumes it now contains is about 20,000. The extreme wings and the connecting wings on either side are very elegant, and fitted up for various libraries connected with the institution, such as the Students’ Library, the Reading Room, the Calliopean Library, and the Livonian Library. The Students’ Library contains 9,000 volumes. This beautiful range of buildings probably contains not fewer than 40,000 volumes; and ere long the number will be doubled! Little did the ten ministers who, in 1700, met together to establish this seminary, each laying down his donation of books with these words, “I give these books for the founding of a college in this colony,” and who found that their joint-contribution amounted to only _forty volumes_,–little did they think what that small beginning would come to!

You are looking out for literary curiosities. Here is one–Elliot’s Indian Bible! You have heard of Elliot, “the Apostle of the North American Indians.” Here is a translation of the entire sacred volume into one of the languages of those people. The New Testament was published in 1661, and the Old Testament in 1663. The book before us is a copy of the second edition of the New Testament in 1680, and of the Old Testament in 1685. But where are those Indians, or their descendants? They are extinct; and there is not now a man on the whole continent of America that speaks their language!

Time will not permit me to describe the Picture Gallery, the Anatomical Museum, the Cabinet of the Materia Medica, the Museum of Natural History, and many other objects of interest. You must, however, take a peep at the Mineral Cabinet, or Geological Museum. It has been collected and arranged, with great industry and taste, by Professor Silliman. Look at this meteoric iron-stone. It fell a few years ago in Texas, and weighs 1,635 lbs.!

Our guide, Mr. Dutton, insists upon our calling at the college-room of Dr. Goodrich, one of the Theological Professors. We do so; and find him engaged in revising Webster’s Large Dictionary, about a dozen volumes, for a new edition. But what a polite man! Talk of American rudeness! A reception more kind and courteous than this you have never received from any man.

Yale College is a noble institution. Oh that we had a few like it in England! The Faculty consists of 25 Professors–men who would be an honour to any country, 7 “Tutors,” and 6 “Instructors.” At the time of our visit there are 584 students thus classified:–

Theological Students 53
Law ” 62
Medical ” 52
Resident Graduates 5

Seniors 121
Juniors 90
Sophomores (wise fools) 112
Freshmen 99
Total 584

Candidates for admission to the Freshmen Class are examined in Cicero’s Select Orations, the whole of Virgil and Sallust, and the first three books of Xenophon’s Anabasis, together with various “Readers,” “Exercises,” and Grammars.

The whole course of instruction occupies four years, each year being divided into three terms or sessions.

With regard to expense, the annual charges made by the Treasurer are–

For instruction 33 00 For rent of chamber in college (average) 12 00 For ordinary repairs and contingencies 2 40 For general damages, sweeping, &c. 3 60 For expenses of recitation-rooms 3 00 ———–
54 00 = L11. 5_s._

Board is obtained at prices varying from a dollar and a quarter to 3 dollars a week. To a majority of the students, the cost of board is less than 2 dollars a week, or, reckoning the dollar at 4_s._ 2_d._, less than 8_s._ 4_d._ Fuel is procured by the College Corporation, and sold to the students at cost-price. The students provide for themselves bed and bedding, furniture for their rooms, candles, books, stationery, and washing. In the several classes and literary societies subscriptions to a small amount are required. If books and furniture are sold when the student completes his course, the expense incurred by their use will not be great. The following is an approximate estimate of the _necessary_ expenses, without including apparel, pocket-money, travelling, and board during vacations:–


Treasurer’s account as above 54 … 54 Board for forty weeks from 60 to 90 Fuel and lights ” 6 ” 15
Use of books recited, and stationery ” 5 ” 15 Use of furniture, bed and bedding ” 5 ” 15 Washing…… ” 5 ” 15
Contributions in the classes … ” 5 ” 6 ———-
140 to 210

or from 29_l._ to 43_l._ No students are permitted to take lodgings in town, except when the rooms in college are all occupied.

In addition to the regular college course of four years, those who study for the ministry go through a theological course, which occupies three years more. No charges are made for tuition or lectures. For the accommodation of students of this order a building has been erected, in which the rooms are free of charge. The law department, in like manner, occupies two years, and the medical two or three.

Let us now go and see the graves of the Regicides. They are at the rear of the Centre Church. Soon after the restoration of Charles II., many of the judges who had condemned to death his father were apprehended; of whom thirty were condemned, and ten executed as traitors. Three, however, made their escape to New England,–Generals Goffe and Whalley, and Colonel Dixwell. A cave is shown in the neighbourhood, still called the “Judges’ Cave,” in which a great part of their time was spent in concealment. Many were their hair-breadth ‘scapes from their pursuers–the Royalist party. The colonists, however, gave them all the sympathy and protection that they deserved. On one occasion, knowing that the pursuers were coming to New Haven, the Rev. Mr. Davenport preached on the text, “Hide the outcasts; betray not him that wandereth. Let mine outcasts dwell with thee, Moab; be thou a covert to them from the face of the spoiler.” This, doubtless, had its effect, putting the whole town on their guard, and uniting the people in caution and concealment.

Do you see that rudely-shaped, dark blue stone, about 2 feet in width, the same in height, and 8 inches thick? Do you see the inscription upon it–E W in coarsely-carved letters, and the figures 1658 over them? That is, doubtless, the headstone of Whalley’s grave. The footstone is similar, having the same letters; but above them you see figures that may be read either sixteen hundred and fifty-eight, or sixteen hundred and seventy-eight–16578. The latter was the date of the General’s death; and the figures, perhaps, were thus tampered with to baffle the Royalists.

The other stone, about a foot broad and ten inches high, bearing the letters M. G. and the number 80, is supposed to indicate the resting-place of Goffe. He died about the year 1680. The M, with a deep-drawn stroke under its limbs, may be taken for an inverted W; and thus, with the G, stand for William Goffe, in harmony with the designed concealment that pervades the whole. Colonel John Dixwell lived here, for seventeen years or more, under the assumed name of James Davids, and died here after an exile of twenty-nine years from his native country. He, as well as the other two judges, lived and died in the firm expectation of another revolution in England. That revolution had actually taken place in the November before his death; but, as those were the days of slow and tedious voyages, the news did not arrive till about a month after his death. A little before his decease he revealed to the people his real name and character, which had long been known to the Rev. Mr. Pierpont the minister, but requested that no monument should be erected at his grave, “lest his enemies might dishonour his ashes,” but only a plain stone inscribed with his initials J. D., Esq., his age, and time of death. And here it is–that piece of red stone, about 2 feet in height and breadth, and 5 inches thick, inscribed–



18th IN ye 82d YEAR OF

HIS AGE 1688^9.”

President Stiles, in his “History of the Judges,” says, “So late as the last French war, 1760, some British officers passing through New Haven, and hearing of Dixwell’s grave, visited it, and declared, with rancorous and malicious vengeance, that if the British ministry knew it, they would even then cause their bodies to be dug up and vilified. Often have we heard the crown officers aspersing and vilifying them; and some so late as 1775 visited and treated the graves with marks of indignity too indecent to be detailed.”

By those who can make a due allowance for difference of time and circumstances, the graves of these exiles will be visited with sentiments of veneration. It would have been grand to spare the presumptuous monarch; but we cannot feel surprised that he was sacrificed to the indignation of an outraged people. In these days, happily, kings and nations have learned that to take away the life of tyrannical rulers, or of resisting subjects, is but to sow the seeds of future troubles, and not to lay the foundation of permanent peace.


A Fast-Day–Political Sermons–A Church of Coloured People–The Sabbath–Morning Service–Afternoon ditto and Dr. Hawes–Prayers at College Chapel–United Service in North Church–The Cemetery–The “Fathers”–Professor Gibbs–Annual Election–Statistics–Arrival at Hartford–Mr. Hosmer–Chief Justice–Deaf and Dumb–Charter Oak.

Good Friday was observed by the people of New England as an annual fast-day, to humble themselves on account of their national sins. It seemed, somewhat to our inconvenience, to be literally and very rigidly observed in the circle in which we moved. On that day all ministers are at liberty to preach upon politics. Accordingly, my friend Mr. Sawyer took for his text Isaiah lviii. 6: “Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?” He touched upon the war with Mexico, but dwelt chiefly on the subject of slavery in America. His remarks were, however, too much mingled with party politics to make the church uncomfortable.

In the afternoon I heard Mr. Dutton, in the North Church. His text was Neh. ii. 3, and his subject _Patriotism_. The existing war occupied much of his attention, and was strongly and unsparingly denounced. The maxim–too frequently heard at that time in the United States–“Our country, right or wrong,” he shattered to atoms. Defensive war, however, he justified. He dwelt powerfully on the responsibility connected with the exercise of the elective franchise, and urged the duty of voting, at all times, not blindly and for party purposes, but intelligently, honestly, and piously. Exceptions might perhaps be taken by some to his views on defensive war; otherwise the discourse was excellent and seasonable. At the close of the service, we went, in accordance with previous arrangements, to be his guests for a few days.

In the evening I attended a Congregational church of coloured people. The place was exceedingly neat and clean. The minister, the Rev. Mr. Beman (himself a coloured man), gave out the well-known hymn–

“Come we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known,” &c.,

which was sung beautifully. He then offered up a very judicious, sensible, and pious prayer. The meeting was one of a series of revival meetings. A large number professed to have been converted; but, such were the care and caution exercised, none of them had been admitted into the fellowship of the church. Mr. Beman was so prudent, unassuming, and devout, that I could not resist the inclination to go up, introduce myself, and give a short address. Most cordial was my reception, and great my enjoyment. At the close, one and another were introduced to me as having made their escape from Southern slavery, under circumstances painfully affecting; and they would not let me go without a promise that I would preach to them on the following Sabbath morning.

I did so, and enjoyed the service very much. As in the evening there was to be a service in the North Church, in which all the other churches were to unite, for the purpose of hearing from me a statement with regard to the history and operations of the London Missionary Society, together with some special reference to British Guiana, I said to Mr. Beman, “Brother Beman, won’t you and your people go to the North Church to-night?” He hesitatingly said, “No,–he thought not.” “Why not?” said I,–“you know my statements will in a great measure refer to those who are your brethren–your kindred according to the flesh.” “Yes,” he replied,–“we should be glad to come; but the fact is they would pack us–myself and all–into some negro pew, and we should feel it keenly.”

In the afternoon I preached for Mr. Dutton, in the North Church. Dr. Bacon had that day exchanged pulpits with Dr. Hawes of Hartford. My service closing a little sooner than his, I reached the Centre Church in time to hear the latter part of his sermon. Dr. Hawes is a fine, tall man, of about 55 years of age. In personal appearance, and in tones of voice, he struck me as greatly resembling some of the sons of Caledonia. His sermon, which was read, seemed to be very good; but the delivery, even in the application, was slow and heavy. Both churches were even more beautiful inside than out, and were filled with very large congregations.

Shortly after, Mr. Dutton took me to attend the afternoon worship at the College Chapel, where a church is formed, and public services are conducted every Sabbath. It was here that Dr. Dwight delivered his well-known Lectures. There are prayers morning and afternoon every day, which the students are expected to attend. Such was the present engagement. One of the professors read a chapter; gave out a hymn, which was magnificently sung; and then offered an extempore prayer. There were between 300 and 400 students present.

In the evening Dr. Hawes accompanied me into the pulpit, and took the introductory part of the service. Most of the professors and students were present. It was a fine, though formidable, opportunity to plead the cause of the despised and oppressed sons of Afric before an audience of so much learning and intelligence. What a contrast! In 1742 the students were forbidden to attend the meetings of this church; and it was partly for once disobeying this prohibition, in order to hear the Rev. Gilbert Tennent, that David Brainerd was expelled from the college.

Nor were the sentiments I uttered new in this place. Nearly 60 years have rolled away since Jonathan Edwards the younger preached here a sermon, afterwards published by _request_, on the injustice and impolicy of the slave-trade and slavery,–a sermon which in these days would be called by many not merely abolitionism but incendiarism.

On Monday morning we were taken to see the cemetery, outside of the city. Formerly the Green was used as a burying-ground; but in the latter part of last century this field of ten acres was levelled and inclosed for the purpose; and in 1821 the monuments, with the exception of the humble stones of the three judges, were removed hither. The broken tablets and half-legible inscriptions, which constituted the memorials of the fathers and founders of this colony, were peculiarly interesting. On the 18th of April, 1638, those men kept their first Sabbath here. The people assembled under a large spreading oak, and Mr. Davenport, their pastor, preached to them from Matt. iv. 1: “Then was Jesus led up of the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil.” His subject was the temptations of the wilderness; and he recorded the remark, that he had enjoyed “a good day.” The following year they met in a large barn, and in a very solemn manner proceeded to lay the foundation of their civil and religious polity. Mr. Davenport introduced the business with a sermon on “Wisdom hath builded her house; she hath hewn out her seven pillars.” The most ancient record of this event is a curiosity in the history of civil government. It thus begins:–“The 4th day of the 6th moneth, called June, all the free planters assembled together in a general meetinge, to consult about settling civil government according to God, and about the nomination of persons that may be found by consent of all fittest in all respects for the foundation work of a church, which was to be gathered in Quinipiack [the Indian name of the place]. After sollemne invocation of the name of God in prayer,” &c., they resolved–Alas! for that resolve! it admitted a wrong principle, and was productive, for more than 150 years, of the most withering and blighting effect upon that religion which they aimed to foster–they resolved among other things, “That church members only shall be free burgesses; and that they only shall chuse magistrates and officers among themselves, to have the power of transacting all publique civil affairs of this plantation,” &c.

But why record their errors while standing over their tombs? _De mortuis nil nisi bonum_. Take them for all in all, they were men whom we delight to honour. Here are some of their memorials, dated so far back as 1657. Here too is the resting-place of Dr. Dwight.

As we return from this necropolis, the Rev. Mr. Sawyer points out to us the house of Professor Gibbs. “Gibbs–Gibbs,” said I; “what! Gibbs’s Gesenius?” “Yes,” said he. “I should like to see him,” I replied, “for I used at college his editions of Gesenius’s Hebrew Lexicon.” “Let us then call by all means,” said Mr. Sawyer. We did so; and a thin, spare, sallow, sickly, withered, little old gentleman made his appearance. This was the Professor. He seemed as if all the juice and sap of his constitution had been pressed out to nourish the Hebrew roots. I expressed my pleasure in seeing him, and acknowledged the advantages I had derived from his labours. The conversation soon touched upon the Established Church of England, of which he seemed to have a great horror. “You ought to put down,” said he, “that Establishment. You might very easily do it.” “We should be very happy, sir, to know how,” I replied. “I will tell you. Make thorough Hebrew scholars of your ministers. Let them be with regard to Biblical learning quite on a par with those of the Establishment, and it will soon fall.” I answered, that upon the whole I thought they were in that respect quite in advance of those of the Establishment. But I was amused at the good Professor’s simplicity. He little understood the mighty bulwarks by which that institution is defended. A little more of the article in which _he_ dealt would be just the thing to accomplish wonders! It was his nostrum.

To-day the annual election of the State of Connecticut is held. All the officers of state are to be chosen, and New Haven is one of the principal polling-places. But how quiet the town! The only thing that indicates an election is the presence of a larger number of people than usual; and the only display you can see is that little bit of a flag, about 18 inches square, stuck on the top of a cab, having on the word “Democracy!” Let us go into the State House, and see how it is done. Men leave their stores or their studies,–enter by one door, drop their vote into a box, and quietly return to their avocations. The students at Yale who are 21 years of age do the same, and go back to their exercises. The whole affair is managed with as much propriety as the election of deacons in the church at New Amsterdam. _This_ is the working of universal suffrage in New England. Oh that all America, and all the world, were in this respect like the land of the Pilgrim Fathers!

And now we must bid adieu to New Haven. Many are the warm hearts and clear heads it contains. The population is about 18,000. There are in it–

5 Congregational Churches, and 1 Coloured ditto. 2 Episcopal ditto . . 1 “
2 Methodist Episcopal ditto 1 ” 2 Baptist ditto.
1 Primitive Methodist ditto. 1 Bethel ditto. 1 Catholic ditto. —

13 + 4 = 17 total of places of worship.


The Salary of the Governor of Connecticut is 1,100 ” Lieutenant ” . . 300
” Rev. Dr. Bacon . . . 1,500 ” Rev. Mr. Dutton . . . 1,500

In the middle of the day, we leave by railway for Hartford, 36 miles off. Dr. Hawes is our fellow-traveller. Coloured people are here allowed to travel in the same carriages with others. It was not so, even on this line, three or four years ago, when the Rev. Mr. Pennington was setting off from Hartford for England. He told me himself that he was obliged on that occasion to travel in the luggage-van. On our arrival, we are met by Charles Hosmer, Esq., (a cousin of Elihu Burritt,) an old and valued correspondent of mine, and of my predecessor Mr. Wray. To both of us he had occasionally sent presents of excellent American publications. We must be his guests during the few days we remain at Hartford. Dr. Hawes and Chief Justice Williams, came in a homely way to spend the evening with us. The Chief Justice is a deacon of the Doctor’s church, and a teacher in the Sabbath-school.

The next day we were taken to see the Deaf and Dumb Institution. This asylum was founded by the Rev. Mr. Gallaudet, who, becoming deeply interested in this class of afflicted humanity, visited England and the Continent with a view to obtain information as to the best mode of communicating instruction to them. I may also observe that he himself married a deaf and dumb lady, by whom he has a large family of children, now grown up, none of whom however inherit the maternal affliction. His son also has married a lady who, like his mother, is deaf and dumb. We were highly delighted with the success of the undertaking as seen in the comfort, cheerfulness, and proficiency of the pupils. In coming out, we met at the door a respectable well-dressed man and a woman, both of them deaf and dumb, who had formerly been pupils here, had formed an attachment to each other, married, settled comfortably in life, and were now coming to pay a visit to their former home.

On our return we saw the celebrated Charter Oak. The early settlers of this place had obtained from the second Charles, and that in the very year in which 2,000 ministers were ejected from the Church of England, a most favourable charter–far more so than the Colonial Office in the present day would grant. Charles, however, repented having granted it, and in 1687 sent over Sir Edmund Andross, under some pretence or other, to demand it back. It was night, and the Legislative Assembly were convened on the subject, when suddenly the lights were extinguished, and the charter was missing. For a long time it was not known, except to the initiated, what had become of it. When, however, the danger was past, the Charter was forthcoming. It had been concealed in the hollow of this old oak, which still survives. I was gratified in seeing the document carefully preserved in the office of the Secretary of State. It is dated 1662, and “in the fourteenth year of our reign,” though in reality Charles had then reigned but two years.


The “Retreat”–Introductions to the Insane–Piety and Profanity –Service in the Fourth Church–Memorials of the Pilgrims–Dr. Bushnell and his Opinions–The Mother Church and its Burying-Ground –The New Cemetery–Prejudice against Colour–Mrs. Sigourney–Departure from Hartford–Worcester and Elihu Burritt–Boston–The Rev. Seth Bliss–The Cradle of Liberty–Mr. Garrison–Bunker’s Hill.

Having seen the Charter Oak, let us proceed in company with the Rev. Mr. Gallaudet to the “Retreat for the Insane,” of which he is chaplain. The place is delightfully situated, and severity of treatment carefully avoided. As we pass from room to room, we are very gravely and formally introduced, as strangers in the country, to the inmates. Here we are introduced to a tall muscular old lady, who has her cap fantastically trimmed with bits of ribbon of various gaudy colours. With an air of assumed politeness and dignity, she asks me if I have been to Washington. On receiving a reply in the negative, she expresses great regret, and inquires if I have seen “Dan Webster,” and, without waiting for an answer, hurries on, “Fine fellow Dan,–some solid timbers about Dan,–indeed, the Yankees altogether are not to be sniffed at.” I nodded the most entire assent to all she said.

We enter another room, and are introduced to a curious groupe. One woman has tied her mouth up with a handkerchief, to prevent her talking too much. She tells us that at first she had tied it over her ears, to prevent her hearing another woman’s voice, who is constantly talking to herself, and making her head ache; but that she found her own tongue then going faster than anybody else’s. She had therefore adopted the _wise_ plan of tying her own mouth. She is eloquent in the praises of the institution, and calls it “A blessed Retreat–a blessed Retreat.”

We move on, and are introduced to a fine-looking woman–the wife of a respectable merchant in New York. She looks wild, and shakes her head violently. She pours upon us a flood of questions, most of which relate to her own husband, such as–When did we see him last?–How was he?–What message did he send to her? &c. Turning to my wife, she said, “You had better have staid at home, and never come to this country. This country _was_ once a great country: it is so no longer, and all through that man,”–pointing to Mr. Gallaudet. “Oh that man! what a villain he is! People out of doors don’t know him; and,” looking at myself, “you can’t do this country better service than to make known everywhere the real character of that man. Here he keeps me a prisoner in this place for nothing at all; but I hope the State will take up the matter, and punish him well for it.” I promised to make known Mr. Gallaudet’s character, and bade her adieu.

We are next introduced to a student of theology, who asks very sensible and pious questions in reference to the missionary cause and the progress of the Gospel in British Guiana. This man is perfectly sane except on one point. He thinks there is a conspiracy to poison him, and that slow poison is administered to him continually in his food. Mr. Gallaudet, even by dining at the same table and eating out of the same dish, has failed to convince him to the contrary.

Now we are taken to the chapel in which Mr. Gallaudet officiates among them. On the desk is an elegantly-bound Bible, which has been presented by a former patient, who had experienced in his restoration the value of this “Retreat.” The hymn-book is a collection made on purpose for the insane, everything gloomy and terrific being excluded. Mr. Gallaudet, a most intelligent and accomplished man, describes many remarkable developments of human nature which have come under his observation, comprising strange combinations of piety and profanity in the same persons. A patient, who was really a very religious man, in enumerating the many advantages they there enjoyed said, “We have a good house to live in; good rooms to occupy; good food to eat; a good doctor to attend us; a good chaplain to give us religious instruction; and” (waxing warm) “what the devil do we want more?”

In the afternoon we meet with Dr. Hawes, at the house of Chief Justice Williams to tea.

In the evening there is a united service in the “Fourth Church”–that of which Dr. Patton’s son is minister,–to hear from me an address on the subject of missions. After which Dr. Bushnell puts to me publicly some very close and intelligent questions with regard to the working of freedom in our West India Colonies. He is evidently anxious to elicit from me that kind of information which would enable them to contradict the statements of the pro-slavery party. Young Patton is also an anti-slavery man, and will not tolerate the distinction of colour in his own church.

The next day Mr. Gallaudet and Mr. Patton call and accompany us to the Historical Room. There we see carefully kept an old chest that had come over in the “May Flower,” and also the three-legged pot in which the “Pilgrims” had first boiled their food after landing on Plymouth Rock. These and many other memorials of the “Fathers” we are happy to find are very piously preserved. Then we go to a Gallery of Pictures. The admission fee is 25 cents, or one shilling; but from us, being strangers, they will accept of nothing! In the collection there was much to admire; but I could not help regretting that the canvas was made to preserve the memory of so many conflicts between England and her Transatlantic sons.

We dined at Dr. Bushnell’s house. The Doctor is a very unassuming man, and a very original but somewhat eccentric thinker. He had lately published a sermon on Roads, a sermon on the Moral Uses of the Sea, a sermon on Stormy Sabbaths, and a sermon on Unconscious Influence,–all treated in a very striking manner. He had recently visited England and the continent of Europe, and had also contributed an article to the _New Englander_, a quarterly review, on the Evangelical Alliance. The views of a keen thinker from another land on that and kindred topics deserve to be pondered. “The Church of God in England,” says the Doctor, “can never be settled upon any proper basis, whether of truth or of practical harmony, until the Established Church, as such, is separated from the State.” His estimate of “a large class of English Christians” is not very flattering. “They are good men, but not thinking men. Their piety gurgles in a warm flood through their heart, but it has not yet mounted to their head. * * * In the ordinary, _i.e._ in their preaching and piety, they show a style of goodishness fitly represented by Henry’s Commentary; in the extraordinary, they rise into sublimity by inflation and the swell of the occasion.” Towards slavery and slaveholders he manifests a tenderness of feeling at which we are surprised and pained. The proposed exclusion of slaveholders from the Alliance he characterizes as “absurd and fanatical,” speaking of the subject as having been “so unhandsomely forced upon” the American brethren in London. Again, “There is too much good sense among the Christians of this country (America) to think of constituting an Alliance on the basis which denies Christian character to all slaveholders. At a future time, when slavery has been discussed long enough, we shall do so. We cannot do it now,–least of all can we do it at the dictation of brethren beyond the sea, who do not understand the question,” &c.

And yet in the same article the Doctor proposes that the Christians of England and America should unite their efforts for the promotion of religious liberty in Italy, and says, “If we lift our testimony against all church dungeons and tortures, and against all suppression of argument by penalties, as cruel, absurd, anti-christian, and impious, there is no prince or priesthood in Italy or anywhere else that can long venture to perpetrate such enormities.” Will they yield, Doctor, to the “dictation of brethren beyond the sea?” But this subject of American slavery is always represented by our Transatlantic friends as a thing so _profound_ that none but themselves can understand it; and yet it is evident that they understand it least of all. Hear the Doctor:–

“We do not propose, however, in this movement for religious liberty, to invite the efforts of our English brethren here against slavery. We have too little confidence in their knowledge of our condition, and the correctness of their opinions generally on the subject of American slavery. They must consent to let us manage the question in our own way,” &c. How strikingly is it here seen that this slavery is the weak point and the wicked point in the American character! We liked Dr. Bushnell’s company, his hospitality, his wife, his children, his domestic discipline, his church, his other writings,–everything better than the article in question, though even it contained much that we admired.

The next day we went to see the “First Congregational Church” in this place–that in which Dr. Hawes ministers, together with the old burying-ground attached to it. This was the original church formed by the first settlers, who in 1636 came from Braintree in Essex, bringing their pastor the Rev. Thos. Hooker along with them. Of him it is said, that he appeared in the pulpit with such dignity and independence as if “while engaged in his Master’s work he could put a king in his pocket.” Here is his tomb, dated 1647. Two eventful centuries have rolled away, during which this church has had only nine pastors; all of whom, except the last, Dr. Hawes, who still survives, died in their charge, and were interred in this place. Interments here are no longer continued; but an old bachelor, of independent means, a descendant of the Pilgrims, spends nearly the whole of his time “among the tombs” of the fathers and prophets, and, _con amore_, keeps the ground and the graves in the most beautiful order.

Our host Mr. Hosmer took us to see the new burying-ground outside of the city. Here the Catholics and the coloured people had each a parcel of ground allotted for themselves,–the former because they _would_ not, and the latter because they _should_ not, mingle their dust with that of other people!

On our way back I said to my friend, “How was it that neither Mr. Pennington nor any of his people (coloured congregation) were at the meeting last night? I should have thought they would have come to hear about their own brethren in Guiana.” “Why,” he replied, “the fact was I did not send a notice to them on Sunday: I knew that in the ‘Fourth’ Church they would have been scattered all over the place; it would have been so unpleasant, and talked of for months.” Here then was a man of a large heart, a friend of missions and of all that is good, one who seemed as if he could embrace the whole world in his sympathies, under the dominion of a prejudice you would have expected him to scorn!

At Hartford lives Mrs. Sigourney, the graceful American poetess. She is a pious member of one of the Congregational Churches. Mr. Hosmer kindly took us to call upon her; and we were greatly pleased with our brief visit.

At 2 P.M. we left with regret this delightful little city, and shall always cherish a grateful remembrance of the Christian kindness and hospitality with which we were treated. In all the States we met with nothing to be compared, in all that was pleasing, to the two cities of Connecticut–New Haven and Hartford.

In passing, on our way to Boston, through Worcester in Massachusetts, I cast a hurried glance at every place that looked like a smithy, wondering whether it was there that Elihu Burritt had wielded his forge-hammer and scattered his “sparks from the anvil.”

We reached Boston at 9 P.M., and stopped at the United States Hotel. The next day I called to deliver notes of introduction to several of the Boston divines. Among them was one to the Rev. Seth Bliss, at the Tract Depository. Having glanced at the note, he very hurriedly said to me, “Ah, how do you do?–very glad to see you!–where are you stopping at?”–“At the United States Hotel, sir.” “Oh,” he replied all in a breath, “you had better come to my house,–it’ll be cheaper for you,–they’ll charge you 2 dollars a day at the United States Hotel,–I only charge a dollar and a half,–I have a room at liberty now. Besides, if you want to get acquainted with ministers, you can’t do better than come to my house. In fact, the wags call my house the ‘Saints’ Rest,’–because, I suppose, they see I sell the book here.” The conjuncture of “Bliss” and “Saints’ Rest!” Who could refuse? We went. But I will not tell how far the accommodation tended to realize our conceptions of those beatitudes.

On the morrow we went to see Faneuil Hall, the “Cradle of Liberty.” A notice was up at the door to say the key was to be found at such a store in the neighbourhood. I asked for the key; had it without a single question being put; went, opened the door myself, and staid as long as we pleased. There was no hanger-on, to try to squeeze a fee out of us, as would have been the case in a country I know.

I then went and called without any introduction upon William Lloyd Garrison, from whom I received the most kind attentions. He accompanied me to the celebrated Bunker’s Hill, a scene of dreadful encounter between those who ought never to have been foes. A column of 200 feet high now stands upon the spot. It is unfortunate that the Americans have so many mementos, both natural and artificial, of their struggles with us. They tend to perpetuate an undesirable feeling.


Boston (continued)–The Old South–Unitarianism, and Connection between Church and State–A Welsh Service in an “Upper Room”–Laura Bridgman and the Wedding Ring–Oliver Caswell–Departure from Boston–John Todd and his Family–His Congregationalism–Albany and the Delevan House–Journey to Utica–Remsen and the Welsh People–Dogs made to churn, and Horses to saw Wood.

On Sabbath morning the 11th of April I preached for the Rev. Mr. Blagden, in the Old South Church. This is a large old-fashioned square building, having two galleries, one above the other, on three of its sides. It is rich in historical recollections. Here Whitfield preached. Here patriotic meetings were held even before Faneuil Hall was built; and here the British troops were quartered at the time of the Revolutionary War. Here, too, the lamp of truth was kept feebly burning when all around had sunk into darkness and heresy. At the commencement of this century, the ministry in all the other Congregational Churches in Boston had become Unitarian. In the Old South, however, there were a few people, eight in number, who formed a “Society for Religious Improvement.” They could not at first _pray_ together; they only read the Scriptures and conversed on religious subjects. But they grew in wisdom, fervour, and zeal, and were eventually the means, not only of reviving religion in the Old South, but also of giving an impulse in Boston which is felt to this day. Church after church on orthodox principles has been instituted, till there are in Boston more than a dozen large and vigorous churches of the Congregational order; and the Old South, the honoured “mother of churches,” has had her “youth renewed like the eagles.”

But how came Congregationalism to be so deteriorated? It was owing to its having been made the State religion. All were at first taxed for its exclusive support. This was felt to be unjust and oppressive, and it brought the favoured system into bad repute. Then a modification of the law was adopted, and the citizens had their choice of systems, but were taxed for the support of some system or other. This provision, likewise, began ere long to be felt as unjust towards those who did not wish to maintain _any_ system, or at least not by taxation. This law, moreover, gave a virtual support to Unitarianism. “This,” says the Rev. Mr. Button of New Haven, “has been more fully illustrated in Massachusetts than in Connecticut. The repeal of the law for the compulsory support of religion in that commonwealth has proved a severe blow to Unitarianism.”

After the morning service at the Old South, we turned in to see Park-street Church, another Congregational place of worship, which for the following reason I was curious to enter. A few years ago a coloured gentleman of respectability instructed a friend to purchase for him a pew in that church. That no objection to the sale might arise from any neglect of decorations, the new proprietor had it beautifully lined and cushioned. It was made to look as handsome as any other pew in the church; and, when it was finished, the gentleman and his family one Sabbath morning took possession. This gave rise to great anxiety and alarm. Niggers in the body of the church! What was to be done? In the course of the following week a meeting was held, and a deputation appointed to wait upon the gentleman, and to tell him that it was against “public feeling” for him to occupy the pew in question. The gentleman remonstrated, and pointed out the injustice, after he had purchased the pew, and incurred the expense of fitting it up, of not being allowed to enjoy it. To this the deputation replied that they were sorry for any inconvenience or loss he might sustain, but public feeling _must_ be respected, and the pew _must_ be given up. Against this decision there was no appeal; and the gentleman was obliged to let the pew be resold for such a price as the white aristocracy thought fit to give. On the principle that “prevention is better than cure,” they have, I am told, in Boston introduced into every new trust-deed a clause that will effectually guard against the recurrence of such a calamity. But so “smartly” has it been done that, were you to examine those deeds, you would look in vain for a single syllable having the remotest apparent bearing on either black or coloured people, and you would be ready to suspect that the whole was a mere invention of the Abolitionists. Indeed, Mrs. “Bliss,” at the “Saints’ Rest,” assured me in the most positive manner that such was the case, and that the whole of the story I have related had not the shadow of a foundation in truth. But she might as well have attempted to deny the existence of Bunker’s Hill or Boston Bay. This was only a specimen of the manner in which the colour-hating party attempt to throw dust in the eyes of strangers, and deny the existence of the most palpable facts. But how runs the conservative clause which led to this digression? It is expressed in words to this effect,–That no sale of any pew is valid if two-thirds or three-fourths (I forget which) of the congregation should object to the purchaser! This was quite enough. Those against whom it was directed need not be even mentioned. It was well known that with this clause no coloured man could ever own a pew. Public feeling would piously take hold of this key, and turn it against him.

In the afternoon I heard the Rev. E.N. Kirk. The church was new and beautiful, the congregation large, and the sermon good.

In the evening I preached in Welsh to about 70 people, in a small “upper room.” It was my first attempt for many years to deliver a _sermon_ in that language. Nor should I have made it, but for the peculiarity of the case. The parties were representatives of four different denominations in Wales, had formed themselves into a kind of Evangelical Alliance, and had no stated minister, but gladly availed themselves of the occasional services of any minister of evangelical views who might be passing through! Poor and few as they were, they insisted upon my receiving towards travelling expenses four dollars and a half. This was not done at the Old South, though the pastor told me they were “burdened with wealth;” nor was it done in any other instance in the _American_ churches.

The next day the Rev. Mr. Blagden accompanied us to see the Massachusetts Asylum for the Blind. Here we were introduced to Laura Bridgman, who since she was about two years of age has been deaf, dumb, and blind. Her senses of taste and smell are also impaired. She is 18 years of age, and has been in the institution ten years. Every avenue of communication with the soul was closed–but one. The sense of touch remained; and by means of that they have contrived to reach the mind, to inform it, to instruct it, to refine and elevate it. We found her exactly corresponding to the beautiful description given of her by Dr. Howe, who is at the head of the institution. That description has so often been published in England that I will not transcribe it. Her figure is genteel, slender, and well-proportioned. She appears to be lively, sensitive, and benevolent. The place where the bright blue eyes once sparkled that are now quenched in darkness is covered with a piece of green ribbon. Conversation with her is carried on by means of the “speaker’s” rapid fingering on her right hand. It was in this manner that we were introduced. She shook hands with us very affectionately, –taking hold of both hands of Mrs. Davies, and feeling all about her head, her dress, and her arms. In doing so she felt the wedding-ring, and wanted to know by means of her interpreter–her governess–why the English ladies wore a ring on that finger. (The American ladies do not observe the custom.) On my wife telling her it was to show they were married, she seemed very much amused and astonished. Here it was very interesting to observe the progress of a thought from ourselves to the governess, and from her to that “little, white, whispering, loving, listening” hand that received and communicated all ideas, until the brightened countenance and the lovely smile showed it had reached the soul. She felt a deep sympathy for Ireland, and wished to know what the English were doing for the starving inhabitants. We told her; and soon after we saw by the public papers that, subsequently to our visit, she had done some needle-work, which was sold, and the proceeds appropriated at her request to purchase a barrel of flour for that unhappy land. “How,” exclaims Elihu Burritt, “she plied at morning, noon, and night, those fingers! wonderful fingers! It seemed that the very finger of God had touched them with miraculous susceptibilities of fellowship with the spirit world and that around her. She put them upon the face of His written word, and felt them thrilled to her heart with the pulsation of His great thoughts of love to man. And then she _felt_ for other’s woe. Poor child! God bless her richly! She reached out her short arms to feel after some more unhappy than she in the condition of this life; some whose fingers’ ends had not read such sweet paragraphs of heaven’s mercy as hers had done; some who had not seen, heard, and felt what her dumb, silent, deaf fingers had brought into her heart of joy, hope, and love. Think of that, ye young eyes and ears that daily feast upon the beauty and melody of this outer world! Within the atmosphere of her quick sensibilities, she felt the presence of those whose cup was full of affliction. She put her fingers, with their throbbing sympathies, upon the lean bloodless faces of the famishing children in Ireland, and her sightless eyes filled with the tears that the blind may shed for griefs they cannot see. And then she plied the needle and those fingers, and quickened their industry by placing them anon upon the slow sickly pulse of want that wasted her kind at noonday across the ocean. Days, and nights too–for day and night were alike to her wakeful sympathies–and weeks she wrought on with her needle. And then the embroidery of those fingers was sold to the merchants. Would it had been sold to England’s Queen, to be worn by the young princesses on days of state! It was sold; and its purchase price was _a barrel of flour_, instead of a country’s harvest, which it was well worth. And that barrel of flour was stowed away without other private mark than that the recording Angel put upon it, among the thousands that freighted the _Jamestown_ on her recent mission of brotherly love to Ireland. _Laura Bridgman and her barrel of flour_ should teach the world a lesson worth the woes of one year’s famine.” Laura favoured us with her autograph on a slip of paper, which we shall always carefully preserve as a memorial of a visit to one of the greatest wonders of the age.

In another room we were introduced to Oliver Caswell. He is about the same age as Laura, and similarly afflicted, but has been in the institution only six years. His teacher told him, in the same finger-language which was used with Laura, that we came from British Guiana, and desired him to find out the place on the large globe before him. This globe was made for the use of the blind, having upon it the countries and their names in relievo. Oliver turned it round, and felt with his fingers until they soon rested on the required spot, when he seemed greatly delighted. His attainments are not so remarkable as those of Laura, for he has not been so long under tuition; but his progress is highly encouraging.

At 4 P.M. we left Boston by railway for Albany,–fare 5 dollars each. We rested, however, at Springfield for the night, and that in the most comfortable hotel we had met with in the States. The next day we moved on to Pittsfield, where we arrived at half-past 11. Finding that we might get off from that train, and go by another in three or four hours’ time, we availed ourselves of the opportunity of calling upon the Rev. Dr. Todd, the author of “Lectures to Children,” “The Student’s Guide,” &c. Instead of the prim, neat, little man we had always imagined him to be, we found him tall, coarse, slovenly, and unshaven; a man of 46 years of age; hair of an iron-grey, rough and uncombed; features large; cheek-bones prominent; and the straps of his trowsers unbuttoned, and flapping about his slippers. But, under this unpromising exterior, we discerned a soul of great intelligence, frankness, and brotherly kindness. Mrs. Todd has been a woman of great beauty, and, though she has brought up a large family of children, is still fresh and comely. Their eldest daughter is 19 years of age; and John, to whom the “Lectures to Children” were dedicated, is now 14 years of age. The Doctor’s insane mother, for whose sake he was first led to employ his pen, has been dead for some years. His desire to visit England is very strong. He had been appointed by the churches of Massachusetts to visit those of England last year in the character of a delegate; but the means of meeting the expenses of such a delegation were not provided, and consequently the visit was not paid. It is worthy of observation that the Doctor’s books have been sold in England far more extensively than in America; but from the English editions he receives no profit, and even from the American ones very little. As it may be the first time that English readers hear of John Todd as _Doctor_ Todd, and as there is an impression that our American friends bestow their literary honours too freely and indiscriminately,–which, indeed, is true in reference to some scores of institutions,–nothing being easier than to obtain a D.D.,–I would just observe that this applies not to the New England Colleges. They are very chary of such honours, and only confer that of D.D. on ministers of long standing and high attainments. In the case of Mr. Todd it was most deservedly bestowed.

Pittsfield is but a small town, of about 5,000 inhabitants. The Governor of Massachusetts resided there, and was a deacon of a Baptist Church. Dr. Todd presides over a Congregational Church. To the principles of Congregationalism he is devoutly attached. While others regard Presbyterianism and Congregationalism as matters of mere geographical boundary, Todd could never be prevailed upon, even by the most advantageous offers, to do the same. He said he had nailed his flag to the mast, and would never abandon it. “I regard Congregationalism,” said he to me, “as a sort of a working-jacket: with it on I can work with anybody, in any place, and in any way.” With this great and good man we exceedingly enjoyed a homely dinner and a few hours’ converse. In coming out, I observed before the door, half-covered with snow, a beautiful model of the Temple of Theseus. This was the work of the Doctor’s own hands.

At 3-1/2 P.M. we left for Albany. At the station, before crossing the Hudson, we observed in large letters the ominous words “Beware of pickpockets!” On reaching the city we went to the “Delevan House,” so called after Mr. Delevan, who has done so much for the advancement of temperance in America. The house is his property, but he does not conduct it. He lives there as a lodger; and I was permitted to spend the evening in conversation with him. The house is the largest temperance hotel in the world. It will accommodate about 400 guests. Those who keep it are religious people, and have a public family-worship every evening, usually conducted by the master of the house; but if a minister of any denomination be present, he is asked to officiate. A bell is rung, and all who feel disposed to unite in the worship assemble in a large room. On this occasion it was my privilege to conduct the service; and in such a place, and under such circumstances, it was to me an exercise of peculiar interest. A hymn too was sung, and well sung,–the tune being led by the master of the house, aided by his family.

The next morning, at half-past 7, we set off by railway to Utica, a distance of 94 miles, which we did not accomplish in less than 6-1/2 hours, making an average of less than 15 miles an hour, and for which we paid 2-1/2 dollars, or 10s. 6d. This journey led us through the valley of the Mohawk, and that river was for the most part our constant companion. The railway and the river seemed to be wedded to each other,–the former conforming to all the whims and windings, and turnings and twistings of the latter.

Utica is a small city, of about 14,000 inhabitants. Its progress has been but slow. The houses are painted white, and appear neat and comfortable. I was struck with the immense number of them that were erected with their gable end to the street, and with a small portico supported by two fluted columns. A large portion of the inhabitants are Welsh, who have here four or five places of worship. The Rev. James Griffiths, a man of great piety and worth, is the minister of the Welsh Independents. At his house we were most kindly entertained during our stay. On the Sabbath I preached for him twice in Welsh. The following week we were taken to Remsen, eighteen miles off, to see the Rev. Mr. Everett, whose farewell sermon on leaving Wales I had heard when quite a boy,–and the Rev. Morris Roberts, to whom I had bidden adieu in Liverpool sixteen years before. It was delightful to meet these honoured brethren in their adopted home, after the lapse of so many years. Remsen is quite a Welsh settlement; and these men both preside over Welsh churches there. Mr. Everett is the editor of a Welsh Monthly Magazine. In that periodical, as well as in his ministrations, he has been unflinching in his denunciations of slavery. This has exposed him to cruel persecutions. There are about 70,000 Welsh people in the United States who worship in their own language. At Remsen I had to deliver two addresses on the results of emancipation in the West Indies. On our return to Utica, the friend who drove us happened incidentally to mention that in that country they make the dogs churn! “The dogs churn!” I said, “Yes,” said he; “and I dare say they have a churning-machine so worked at this house: let us call and see.” It was a farm-house. At the door about half-a-dozen chubby little children, with fine rosy cheeks, were assembled to see the strangers. I began to speak in English to the eldest, a boy about 10 years of age; but the lad stared! He understood not a word I said.

Though born and so far brought up there, he knew nothing but Welsh! We were gratified with an inspection of the machine for churning. It was worked very much on the same principle as a treadmill, and exceedingly disliked by the poor dog. Goats are sometimes made to perform the same service. In several instances, we saw horses in like manner made to saw wood, and admired the ingenuity of our cousins in turning to account every particle of power they possess. “What is the difference,” said Dr. Beecher once to a ship-captain, “between an English sailor and a Yankee one?” The answer was, “An English sailor can do a thing very well in _one_ way, but the Yankee can do it in half-a-dozen ways.”


A Peep at the House of Representatives in Albany–“The Chair is but a Man,” &c.–Sailing down the Hudson–Dr. Spring–His Morning Sermon–Afternoon Service–Gough the great Lecturer–The Tract House and Steam-presses–May-day in New York–Staten Island–Immigrants–A hurried Glance.

On the 22nd we left Utica at 11 A.M., and reached Albany at 5 P.M. At Schenectady Mr. Delevan got into the same carriage with us; and we had his company to Albany. He had caused to be put into the hand of every passenger by that train a tract on the claims of the Sabbath, a large number of which he had printed at his own expense. He spends an immense fortune in doing good, chiefly by means of the press.

In the evening I strolled out to see a little of Albany, the capital of the State of New York. I gazed with interest on Dr. Sprague’s Church, and wandered until I came to a large building brilliantly lighted. It was the State House or Capitol. The legislature was then in session. I marched on, and got in without the least hinderance. There was no crowd and no stir about the doors. A simple rail divided the part allotted to the spectators from that which was used by the members. About a hundred of the latter were present. The Senate, whose hall was in another part of the same building, had been adjourned till next day. This was the House of Representatives; and they seemed to be in the midst of a very angry discussion. Their cheeks swelled with rage, or with–quids of tobacco. A spittoon, constantly used, was placed by the side of each member. They were rebelling against the speaker; and, of all mortals, I never saw one in a more unenviable position than he. All that his little hammer, his tongue, and his hands could do was of no avail. The storm raged. The words “honourable member,” “unparliamentary,” “order,” “chair,” and “_in_-quiry,” were bandied about in all directions. One of the “honourable members,” rushing out past me, said with a loud voice, “I’ll go and get a segar,” &c. At last the speaker–poor fellow!–in tones of humiliation and despair said, “The _chair_ is but a _man_; and, if we err, we are ready to acknowledge our error.”

The next day we left by the steam-boat “Roger Williams,” and sailed down the majestic Hudson to New York, a distance of 145 miles; fare one dollar each. This river has so often been described by travellers that I need not repeat the attempt.

The following day was Saturday. In the afternoon I met Dr. Spring at the Tract House. After the usual salutation, he said, “Shall we hear your voice at our place to-morrow afternoon?”–“I have no objection, sir,–what time does your service commence?” “At 4 o’clock.”–“Very well.” “Where shall I find you?”–“Where will you be?” “I shall be in the pulpit five minutes before the time.”–“Oh! _very_ well, _very_ well.”

In the morning I went to hear the Doctor. His introductory prayer was long. In it he prayed for Mexico–that it might have a “free and religious government,” and that the present war might result in the overthrow there of the “man of sin;” but no reference to American slavery. The Doctor, bear in mind, is an Old School Presbyterian, and a supporter of the Colonization Society. His text was John v. 23: “That all men should honour the Son, even as they honour the Father,” &c. His divisions were–

I. What honours are ascribed to the Father.

1. Appropriate names and titles. Jehovah, &c.

2. Ascription of most glorious attributes. Eternal–Immutable –Omnipotent, &c.

3. Great and glorious works. Creation–Preservation–Redemption –Atonement–Regeneration–Justification–Raising the dead–Judging the world–Destroying it–Glory of the righteous–Punishment of the wicked. (All these were supported by appropriate quotations of Scripture.)

4. Duties enjoined in reference to Him. Confidence–Worship, &c.

II. That the same honours are ascribed to the Son. (He went over each of the above particulars, showing from Scripture their application to the Son.)

III. That, therefore, the Son is properly and truly God.

1. We cannot believe the Scriptures would ascribe the same honours to Him as to the Father, if He were not equal to the Father.

2. If He be not truly God, the Scriptures tempt to idolatry.

3. If He be not truly God, the accounts which the Scriptures give of Him are self-contradictory.

4. If He be not truly God, there is no evidence from Scripture that there is a God at all.

This was a massive and compact argument for the Divinity of Christ. It occupied upwards of an hour in the delivery, and was read.

In the afternoon I took care to be in the pulpit five minutes before the time. The Doctor shortly after came, and took his seat behind me. This to me is always an annoyance,–I would almost as soon have a man with me in bed as in the pulpit;–and in this instance it was peculiarly so, as towards the close, although I had not exceeded forty minutes, I felt quite persuaded that the Doctor was pulling at my coat-tail, which led me rather abruptly to conclude. In this, however, I was mistaken; and the Doctor assured me it was what he had never done in his life, except in one instance,–and that was when the preacher, having occupied two hours with his sermon, was entering upon a third.

In the evening of the 27th of April I heard, at the Tabernacle, New York, the celebrated Gough deliver a lecture on Temperance. It was to commence at 8 o’clock; but we had to be there an hour before the time, in order to get a comfortable place. That hour was a dreary one. The scraping of throats and the spitting were horrible. It seemed as if some hundreds of guttural organs were uttering the awfully guttural sentence, _”Hwch goch dorchog a chwech o berchill cochion.”_

At last Gough made his appearance on the platform. He is a slender young man of three or four and twenty. He told us he had spoken every night except three for the last thirty nights, and was then very weary, but thought “what a privilege it is to live and labour in the present day.” He related his own past experience of _delirium tremens_,–how an iron rod in his hand became a snake,–how a many-bladed knife pierced his flesh,–how a great face on the wall grinned at and threatened him; “and yet,” he added, “I _knew_ it was a delusion!”

A temperance man, pointing to Gough, had once observed to another, “What a miserable-looking fellow that is!” “But,” replied the other, “you would not say so, if you saw how he keeps everybody in a roar of laughter at the public-house till 1 or 2 in the morning.” “But I _was_ miserable,” said Gough; “I _knew_ that the parties who courted and flattered me really _despised_ me.” He told us some humorous tales,–how he used to mortify some of them by claiming acquaintance with them in the street, and in the presence of their respectable friends. He returned scorn for scorn. “Gough,” said a man once to him, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself to be always drinking in this manner.” “Do I drink at your expense?”–“No.” “Do I owe you anything?”–“No.” “Do I ever ask you to treat me?”–“No.” “Then mind your own business,” &c. He introduced this to show that that mode of dealing with the drunkard was not likely to answer the purpose.

“Six years ago,” said he, “a man on the borders of Connecticut, sat night after night on a stool in a low tavern to scrape an old fiddle. Had you seen him, with his old hat drawn over his eyebrows, his swollen lips, and his silly grin, you would have thought him adapted for nothing else. But he signed the pledge, and in two years became a United States senator, and thrilled the House with his eloquence.”

In one place, after Gough had delivered a lecture, some ladies gathered around him, and one of them said, “I wish you would ask Joe to ‘sign the pledge,”–referring to a wretched-looking young man that was sauntering near the door. Gough went up to him, spoke _kindly_ to him, and got him to sign: the ladies were delighted, and heartily shook hands with Joe. A year after Gough met Joe quite a dandy, walking arm-in-arm with a fine young lady. “Well, Joe, did you stick to the pledge?” said Gough to him. “Yes,” said Joe with an exulting smile, “and the lady has stuck to me.”

For more than an hour Gough kept the vast audience enchained by his varied and charming talk.

On the 29th I went over the Tract House in New York, and was delighted to see there six steam-presses,–four of which were then at work, pouring forth in rapid succession sheet after sheet impressed with that kind of literature which in my judgment is admirably adapted to meet the wants of this growing country. They were then printing on an average 27,000 publications, including nearly 2,400 of each kind, _per diem!_ and employing sixty women in folding and stitching. During the last year they printed 713,000 volumes, and 8,299,000 smaller publications, making a total of 217,499,000 pages, or 58,154,661 pages more than in any previous year! Of the _volumes_ issued, I may mention 14,000 sets of four volumes of D’Aubigne’s History of the Reformation, 17,000 of Bunyan’s Pilgrim, 10,000 of Baxter’s Saints’ Rest, 9,000 of Doddridge’s Rise and Progress, 7,000 of Pike’s Persuasives, 13,000 of Alleine’s Alarm, and 41,000 of Baxter’s Call! The two Secretaries, whose business it is to superintend the publishing department and matters relating to the raising of funds, the Rev. Wm. A. Hallock and the Rev. O. Eastman, are enterprising and plodding men. They told me they were brought up together in the same neighbourhood, and had both worked at the plough till they were 20 years of age!

The 1st of May is the great moving day in New York. Throughout the city one house seems to empty itself into another. Were it to the next door, it might be done with no great inconvenience; but it is not so. Try to walk along the causeway, and you are continually blocked up with tables, chairs, and chests of drawers. Get into an omnibus, and you are beset with fenders, pokers, pans, Dutch ovens, baskets, brushes, &c. Hire a cart, and they charge you double fare.

One day at the water-side, happening to see the steamer for Staten Island about to move off, we stepped on board, and in less than half an hour found ourselves there. The distance is 6 miles, and the island is 18 miles long, 7 miles wide, and 300 feet high. Here are a large hospital for mariners and the quarantine burying-ground. It is also studded with several genteel residences. In 1657 the Indians sold it to the Dutch for 10 shirts, 30 pairs of stockings, 10 guns, 30 bars of lead, 30 lbs. of powder, 12 coats, 2 pieces of duffil, 30 kettles, 30 hatchets, 20 hoes, and one case of knives and awls.

Several emigrant vessels were then in the bay. On our return, we saw with painful interest many of them setting their foot for the first time on the shore of the New World. They were then arriving in New York, chiefly from the United Kingdom, at the rate of one thousand a day. The sight affected me even to tears. It was like a vision of the British Empire crumbling to pieces, and the materials taken to build a new and hostile dominion.

I should draw too largely upon your patience, were I to describe many objects of interest and many scenes of beauty I witnessed in New York and the neighbourhood. The Common Schools; the Croton Waterworks, capable of yielding an adequate supply for a million-and-a-half of people; Hoboken, with its sibyl’s cave and elysian fields; the spot on which General Hamilton fell in a duel; the Battery and Castle Garden–a covered amphitheatre capable of accommodating 10,000 people; the Park, and the City Hall with its white marble front; Trinity Church; and its wealthy Corporation; Long Island, or Brooklyn, with its delightful cemetery, &c., &c. Suffice it to say that New York has a population of about 400,000; and that it has for that population, without an Established Church, 215 places of worship. Brooklyn has also a population of 60,000, and 30 places of worship.


The May Meetings–Dr. Bushnell’s Striking Sermon–Two Anti-Slavery Meetings–A Black Demosthenes–Foreign Evangelical Society–A New Thing in the New World–The Home-Missionary Society–Progress and Prospects of the West–Church of Rome–Departure from New York–What the Author thinks of the Americans.

The American May Meetings held in New York do not last a month as in England,–a week suffices. That week is the second in the month. On the Sabbath preceding, sermons on behalf of many of the societies are preached in various churches. On the morning of the Sabbath in question we went to the Tabernacle, not knowing whom we should hear. To our surprise and pleasure, my friend Dr. Baird was the preacher. His text was, “Let thy kingdom come;” and the object for which he had to plead was the Foreign Evangelical Society, of which he was the Secretary. His sermon was exceedingly simple, and the delivery quite in an off-hand conversational style. There was no reading.

In the evening we heard Dr. Bushnell preach, on behalf of the American Home-Missionary Society, at the “Church of the Pilgrims” in Brooklyn. This is a fine costly building, named in honour of the Pilgrim Fathers, and having a fragment of the Plymouth Rock imbedded in the wall. The sermon was a very ingenious one on Judges xvii. 13: “Then said Micah, Now know I that the Lord will do me good, seeing I have a Levite to my priest.” The preacher observed that Micah lived in the time of the Judges–what might be called the “emigrant age” of Israel,–that he was introduced on the stage of history as a thief,–that he afterwards became in his own way a saint, and must have a priest. First, he consecrates his own son; but his son not being a Levite, it was difficult for so pious a man to be satisfied. Fortunately a young Levite–a strolling mendicant probably–comes that way; and he promptly engages the youth to remain and act the _padre_ for him, saying, “Dwell with me, and be a _father_ unto me.” Having thus got up a religion, the thief is content, and his mental troubles are quieted. Becoming a Romanist before Rome is founded, he says, “Now know I that the Lord will do me good, seeing I have a Levite to my priest.” Religion to him consisted in a fine silver apparatus of gods, and a priest in regular succession. In this story of Micah it was seen that _emigration, or a new settlement of the social state, involves a tendency to social decline_. “Our first danger,” said the preacher, “is barbarism –Romanism next.”

The tendency to barbarism was illustrated by historic references. The emigration headed by Abraham soon developed a mass of barbarism,–Lot giving rise to the Moabites and the Ammonites; meanwhile, Abraham throwing off upon the world in his son Ishmael another stock of barbarians–the Arabs,–a name which according to some signifies _Westerners_. One generation later, and another ferocious race springs from the family of Isaac–the descendants of Esau, or the Edomites. Then coming down to the time of the Judges we find that violence prevailed, that the roads were destroyed, and that the arts had perished: there was not even a smith left in the land; and they were obliged to go down to the Philistines to get an axe or a mattock sharpened. Then the preacher came to the great American question itself. It was often supposed that in New England there had always been an upward tendency. It was not so. It had been downward until the “great revival” about the year 1740. The dangers to which society in the South and “Far West” is now exposed were powerfully described. The remedies were then pointed out.

“First of all, we must not despair.” “And what next? We must get rid, if possible, of slavery.” “‘We must have peace.'”. Also “Railways and telegraphs.” “Education, too, we must favour and promote.” “Above all, provide a talented and educated body of Christian teachers, and keep them pressing into the wilderness as far as emigration itself can go.” The conclusion of this great sermon was so remarkable that I cannot but give it in the Doctor’s own words.

“And now, Jehovah God, thou who, by long ages of watch and discipline, didst make of thy servant Abraham a people, be thou the God also of this great nation. Remember still its holy beginnings, and for the fathers’ sakes still cherish and sanctify it. Fill it with thy Light and thy Potent Influence, till the glory of thy Son breaks out on the Western sea as now upon the Eastern, and these uttermost parts, given to Christ for his possession, become the bounds of a new Christian empire, whose name the believing and the good of all people shall hail as a name of hope and blessing.”

On the Tuesday I attended two Anti-slavery Meetings in the Tabernacle. The one in the morning was that of Mr. Garrison’s party. The chief speakers were Messrs. Garrison, Wendell Phillips, and Frederick Douglass. This party think that the constitution of the United States is so thoroughly pro-slavery that nothing can be done without breaking it up. Another party, at the head of which is Lewis Tappan, think that there are elements in the constitution which may be made to tell powerfully against slavery, and ultimately to effect its overthrow. Both parties mean well; but they unhappily cherish towards each other great bitterness of feeling. Mr. Tappan’s party held their meeting in the afternoon. Among the speakers was the Rev. Mr. Patton from Hartford, son of Dr. Patton, who made a very effective speeches. The Rev. Samuel Ward also, a black man of great muscular power, and amazing command of language and of himself, astonished and delighted me. I could not but exclaim, “There speaks a black Demosthenes!” This man, strange to say, is the pastor of a Congregational church of white people in the State of New York. As a public speaker he seemed superior to Frederick Douglass. It was pleasing at those anti-slavery meetings to see how completely intermingled were the whites and the coloured.

I had been invited in the evening to speak at the public meeting of the Foreign Evangelical Society, and to take tea at Dr. Baird’s house. While I was there, Dr. Anderson, one of the Secretaries of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, and Mr. Merwin, called to invite me to address the public meeting of that society on the Friday. I promised to do so, if I should not previously have left for the West Indies. The public meeting of Dr. Baird’s society was held in the Dutch Reformed Church, Dr. Hutton’s, a magnificent Gothic building. Dr. De Witt took the chair. The attendance was large and respectable. Dr. Baird, as Secretary, having recently returned from Europe, where he had conversed on the subject of his mission with fourteen crowned heads, read a most interesting report. The writer had then to address the meeting. After him three other gentlemen spoke. There was no collection! Strange to say, that, with all their revivals, our friends in America seem to be morbidly afraid of doing anything under the influence of excitement. Hence the addresses on occasions like this are generally stiff and studied, half-an-hour orations. This feeling prevents their turning the voluntary principle, in the support of their religious societies, to so good an account as they otherwise might. At the close of this meeting, there seemed to be a fine state of feeling for making a collection; and yet no collection was made. This society is one of great value and importance. It is designed to tell in the promotion of evangelical truth on the Catholic countries of Europe and South America. In those countries, it employs a hundred colporteurs in the sale and distribution of religious publications.

The next morning I addressed a breakfast meeting of about 400 people, in a room connected with the Tabernacle. This was a new thing in the