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.

LETTER XXX.

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.