On entering into office, he declared his determined opposition to the "black laws" of Ohio. Those "black laws" are black indeed. They are the foul blot of this otherwise honoured State. One of them is intended to prevent the coloured citizens of other States from removing to Ohio. It was enacted in 1807, and is to this effect,—that within twenty days after the entrance of an emigrant into the State, he is to find two freehold sureties in the sum of 500 dollars for his good behaviour, and likewise for his maintenance, should he, at any future period, be unable to maintain himself. The Legislature well knew that it would be utterly impossible, generally speaking, for a black or coloured stranger to find such securities. In 1800 there were only 337 free blacks in the territory; but in 1830, notwithstanding the "black laws," there were 9,500. A large portion of them entered in entire ignorance of this iniquitous law, and some perhaps in bold defiance of it. But it has by no means remained a dead letter. In 1829 a very general effort was made to enforce it,—about 1,000 free blacks being driven from the State, to take refuge in the more free and Christian country of Canada. Sir J. Colebrook, the Governor of Upper Canada, said to the coloured deputation that waited upon him, "Tell the Republicans on your side of the line that we Royalists do not know men by their colour. Should you come to us, you will be entitled to all the privileges of the rest of His Majesty's subjects." A noble sentiment! and one calculated to make a "Britisher" proud of his country, particularly since the abolition of slavery in our other colonies. At the time these people were thus driven away, the State of Ohio contained but 23 inhabitants to one square mile!

In 1838 official notice was given to the inhabitants of the town of Fairfield, in Ohio, that all "black or mulatto persons" residing there were to comply with the requirements of the law of 1807 within twenty days, or it would be enforced against them. The proclamation addresses the white inhabitants in the following remarkable terms: "Whites, look out! If any person or persons employing any black or mulatto person, contrary to the 3rd section of this law, you may look out for the breakers!"

At the very time I was in Ohio an attempt was made, in Mercer County, to eject by force a number of inoffensive black people. Originally slaves in Virginia, they had been liberated by the will of their late master, and located on a suitable quantity of land which he had secured for them. But the magnanimous and liberty-boasting Americans would not allow them to enjoy their little settlement unmolested; and it was extremely doubtful whether the Governor would be able to protect them from outrage.

In 1839 a number of coloured inhabitants of Ohio addressed a respectful petition to the Legislature, praying for the removal of certain legal disabilities under which they were labouring. The answer was a denial, not merely of the prayer of the petition, but of the very right of petition! "Resolved, that the blacks and mulattoes who may be residents within this State have no constitutional right to present their petitions to the General Assembly for any purpose whatsoever; and that any reception of such petitions on the part of the General Assembly is a mere act of privilege or policy, and not imposed by any expressed or implied power of the Constitution!"

But the blackest of these black laws is the following: "That no black or mulatto person or persons shall hereafter be permitted to be sworn, or give evidence in any court of record or elsewhere in this State, in any cause depending, or matter of controversy, when either party to the same is a white person; or in any prosecution of the State against any white person!"

Under such a law a white man may with perfect impunity defraud or abuse a negro to any extent, provided that he is careful to avoid the presence of any of his own caste at the execution of his contract, or the commission of his crime!

To these "black laws" Governor Bebb has avowed an uncompromising hostility; but the first session of the State Legislature after his election had just closed, and the black laws were still in force. Mr. Bebb was not sufficiently supported in his just and humane intentions to enable him to carry those intentions out. I was assured, however, by those who knew him well, that he was only "biding his time," being as determined as ever to wipe away from the statute-book every remnant of these foul enactments. If he succeed, the poor old Welsh-woman, in her obscurity and widowhood, will have rendered an important service to the cause of humanity and justice. Let mothers think of this, and be encouraged!

The day after our arrival in Cincinnati, being the 22nd of February, we obtained, by the aid of Dr. Weed (one of Mr. Boynton's deacons), a suitable private lodging. Dr. Weed in early life studied for the medical profession, and graduated in physic. Afterwards he spent some years as a missionary among the Indians. Now he is a bookseller, publisher, and stationer in Cincinnati, affording an illustration of that versatility for which the Americans are distinguished. "Men are to be met with," says M. de Tocqueville, (and the present writer has himself seen many instances,) "who have successively been barristers, farmers, merchants, ministers of the Gospel, and physicians. If the American be less perfect in each craft than the European, at least there is scarcely any trade with which he is utterly unacquainted." I have heard of a man in New York, who, having tried the ministry and completely failed, wisely judged that that was not the way in which he could best serve God, and turned to commerce. He is now a substantial merchant, and supports five other men to preach the Gospel; each of whom, he is wont to say, does it much better than he could ever have done.

The lodging which Dr. Weed kindly found us was at the house of the Misses M'Pherson, five Quaker sisters, living together. It was clean and respectable,—the cheapest and most comfortable lodging we had hitherto met with. The table was bountifully supplied with excellent and well-cooked provisions; for which the charge was only 4 dollars each per week, and half-a-dollar for fuel, making altogether only 9 dollars for us both. Of the kindness and hospitality of these ladies we shall always retain a grateful remembrance.

In the afternoon I had the honour of being introduced to Dr. Beecher, Dr. Stowe, Professor Allen, and several other Presbyterian ministers of the New School. They were assembled for fraternal intercourse in the vestry of one of the "churches." I was struck with the sallowness of their complexions, and the want of polish in their manners. Dr. Beecher invited me to go up some day to see Lane Seminary, about two miles off. To this invitation I readily acceded. I was greatly interested in this veteran, of whose fame I had so often heard.

February 23rd.—In the evening, I went to a meeting of the Democratic party in the town-hall, thinking it would afford me a good opportunity for observing American manners. The place was full; and when I arrived, a gentleman was addressing the meeting with great vehemence of tone and gesture. His speech consisted of innumerable changes rung on the sentiment—"There must be a vigorous prosecution of the war against Mexico." But I must reserve any further account of this meeting for my next letter.



LETTER XVII.

Stay at Cincinnati (continued)—The Democratic Meeting—A Visit to Lane Seminary—"Public Declamation"—Poem on War—Essay on Education.

In resuming my notice of the Democratic meeting, let me observe that the Democratic party in America is not very reputable. It is the war party, the pro-slavery party, the mob party, and, at present, the dominant party,—the party, in fine, of President Polk. It had just been aroused to the highest pitch of indignation, by a telling speech delivered in Congress against the Mexican War by Thomas Corwin, Esq., one of the Ohio senators. This meeting, then, was intended as a demonstration in favour of Polk and his policy; but it turned out a miserable failure.

When the blustering speaker who "had the floor" when I entered sat down, the "president" (for they do not say the chairman) rose, amidst a tremendous storm of favourite names, uttered simultaneously by all present at the top of their voices, and, as soon as he could be heard, said it had been moved and seconded that So-and-so, Esq., be requested to address the meeting: those who were in favour of that motion were to say "Ay,"—those against it, "No." One great "Ay" was then uttered by the mass, and a few "Noes" were heard. The "Ayes" had it. But an unforeseen difficulty occurred. So-and-so, Esq., either was not there, or would not speak. Amidst deafening noise again, the president rose, and said it had been moved and seconded that John Brough, Esq., be requested to address the meeting. "Ay"—"No;" but the "Ayes" had it. "Now, John Brough," said a droll-looking Irishman, apparently a hod-carrier, who was at my elbow,—

"Now, John Brough, Out with the stuff."

Here was Paddy on the western side of the Allegany Mountains, with his native accent and native wit as fresh and unimpaired as if he had but just left his green isle, and landed on one of the quays at Liverpool. But John Brough again declined the honour conferred upon him! Then it was moved and seconded and "ayed" that So-and-so, Esq., be requested to address the meeting, but he also was not forthcoming! Nil desperandum. It was moved and seconded and "ayed" that—Callaghan, Esq., be requested to address the meeting. After some hesitation, and a reference to his own "proverbial modesty," he proceeded to foam, and stamp, and thump, and bluster for "the vigorous prosecution of the war," till the American eagle should "stretch his wings over the halls of the Montezumas." At this stage of the proceedings, the spitting and smoke had become so offensive that I was compelled to retire; and I did so with no very high notions of the intelligence and respectability of the American democrats.

The next day being fine and frosty, and the roads hard, I set off in the morning to pay my intended visit to Lane Seminary. I found it a long two miles, all up hill. The seminary itself, the building in which the students are accommodated, is a large plain brick edifice, four stories high, besides the basement-story, and has very much the appearance of a small Lancashire factory. It is 100 feet long by about 40 feet wide, and contains 84 rooms for students. The situation is pleasant, and at a nice distance from the roadside. A large bell was being tolled awkwardly when I arrived. It was 11 o'clock A.M. I found the front door thrown wide open, with every indication of its being entered by all comers without the least ceremony—not even that of wiping the shoes. There was neither door-bell nor knocker, scraper nor mat; and the floor of the lobby seemed but slightly acquainted with the broom,—to say nothing of the scrubbing-brush. It looked like the floor of a corn or provision warehouse. I had no alternative but to venture in. Immediately after, there entered a young man with a fowling-piece, whom before I had seen at a little distance watching the movements of a flock of wild pigeons. I took him for a sportsman; but he was a young divine! I asked him if Dr. Beecher was about. He replied that he guessed not, but he would be at the lecture-room in a few minutes, for the bell that had just tolled was a summons to that room. "Does the Doctor, then," said I, "deliver a lecture this morning?"—"No, it is declamation this morning." "Is it such an exercise," I continued, "as a stranger may attend?"—"Oh, yes!" he replied; "it is public declamation." He then directed me to the lecture-room. It was across the yard, and under the chapel belonging to the institution. This chapel is a very neat building, after the model of a Grecian temple, having the roof in front carried out and supported by six well-proportioned columns in the form of a portico. In a part of the basement-story was the lecture-room in question. The students were mustering. By-and-by Dr. Stowe entered. He invited me to take a chair by his side, on a kind of platform. Professor Allen then came in, and after him Dr. Beecher. The exercise began with a short prayer by Mr. Allen. He then called upon a Mr. Armstrong, one of the students, to ascend the platform. The young man obeyed; and, somewhat abruptly and vehemently, rehearsed from memory a Poem on War. Suiting the action to the words, he began—

"On—to the glorious conflict—ON!"

It quite startled me! Soon afterwards I heard,—

"And Montezuma's halls shall ring."

What! (reasoned I) is this the sequel to the Democratic meeting of last night? Has Mars, who presided at the town-hall, a seat in the lecture-room of this Theological Seminary? As the young man proceeded, however, I perceived that his poem was, in fact, a denunciation of the horrors of war,—not, as I had supposed, the composition of another person committed to memory, and now rehearsed as an exercise in elocution, but entirely his own. It was altogether a creditable performance. The Professors at the close made their criticisms upon it, which were all highly favourable. Dr. Beecher said, "My only criticism is, Print it, print it." The venerable Doctor, with the natural partiality of a tutor, afterwards observed to me he had never heard anything against war that took so strong a hold of his feelings as that poem. Dr. Stowe also told me that Mr. Armstrong was considered a young man of fine talents and great devotion; and that some of the students had facetiously said, "Brother Armstrong was so pious that even the dogs would not bark at him!"

Mr. Armstrong was not at all disposed to take his tutor's advice. But he favoured me with a copy of his poem, on condition that I would not cause it to be printed in America,—in England I might. It contains some turgid expressions, some halting and prosaic lines, and might be improved by a severe revision; but, besides its interest as a Transatlantic college-exercise, I feel it possesses sufficient merit to relieve the tediousness of my own prose.

"'On—to the glorious conflict—ON!'— Is heard throughout the land, While flashing columns, thick and strong, Sweep by with swelling band. 'Our country, right or wrong,' they shout, 'Shall still our motto he: With this we are prepared to rout Our foes from sea to sea. Our own right arms to us shall bring The victory and the spoils; And Montezuma's halls shall ring, When there we end our toils.' ON, then, ye brave' like tigers rage, That you may win your crown, Mowing both infancy and age In ruthless carnage down. Where flows the tide of life and light, Amid the city's hum, There let the cry, at dead of night, Be heard, 'They come, they come!' Mid scenes of sweet domestic bliss, Pour shells of livid fire, While red-hot balls among them hiss, To make the work entire And when the scream of agony Is heard above the din, Then ply your guns with energy, And throw your columns in Thro' street and lane, thro' house and church, The sword and faggot hear, And every inmost recess search, To fill with shrieks the air Where waving fields and smiling homes Now deck the sunny plain, And laughter-loving childhood roams Unmoved by care or pain; Let famine gaunt and grim despair Behind you stalk along, And pestilence taint all the air With victims from the strong Let dogs from mangled beauty's cheeks The flesh and sinews tear, And craunch the bones around for weeks, And gnaw the skulls till bare Let vultures gather round the heaps Made up of man and beast, And, while the widowed mother weeps, Indulge their horrid feast, Till, startled by wild piteous groans, On dreary wings they rise, To come again, mid dying moans, And tear out glazing eyes Tho' widows' tears, and orphans' cries, When starving round the spot Where much-loved forms once met their eyes Which now are left to rot, With trumpet-tongue, for vengeance call Upon each guilty head That drowns, mid revelry and brawls, Remembrance of the dead. Tho' faint from fighting—wounded—wan, To camp you'll turn your feet, And no sweet, smiling, happy home, Your saddened hearts will greet: No hands of love—no eyes of light— Will make your wants their care, Or soothe you thro' the dreary night, Or smooth your clotted hair. But crushed by sickness, famine, thirst, You'll strive in vain to sleep, Mid corpses mangled, blackened, burst, And blood and mire deep; While horrid groans, and fiendish yells, And every loathsome stench, Will kindle images of hell You'll strive in vain to quench. Yet on—press on, in all your might, With banners to the field, And mingle in the glorious fight, With Satan for your shield: For marble columns, if you die, May on them bear your name; While papers, tho' they sometimes lie, Will praise you, or will blame. Yet woe! to those who build a house, Or kingdom, not by right,— Who in their feebleness propose Against the Lord to fight. For when the Archangel's trumpet sounds, And all the dead shall hear, And haste from earth's remotest bounds In judgment to appear,— When every work, and word, and thought, Well known or hid from sight, Before the Universe is brought To blaze in lines of light,— When by the test of perfect law Your 'glorious' course is tried, On what resources will you draw?— In what will you confide? For know that eyes of awful light Burn on you from above, Where nought but kindness meets the sight, And all the air is love. When all unused to such employ As charms the angelic hands, How can you hope to share their joy Who dwell in heavenly lands?"

Such was the poem of Frederick Alexander Armstrong. After its rehearsal, a young gentleman read a prose Essay on Education. It was clever, and indicated a mind of a high order, but was too playful; and the performance was severely criticised. Here ended the "public declamation."



LETTER XVIII.

Visit to Lane Seminary (continued)—Dr. Beecher and his Gun—The College Library—Dr. Stowe and his Hebrew Class—History of Lane Seminary—Qualifications for Admission—The Curriculum—Manual Labour—Expenses of Education—Results—Equality of Professors and Students.

The "public declamation" ended, Dr. Beecher asked me to accompany him to his house. It was about an eighth of a mile from the institution, over a very bad road, or rather over no road at all. He conducted me into a snug little sitting-room, having no grate; but a wood fire on the floor under the chimney. It looked primitive and homely. This style of fire is not uncommon in America. The logs of wood lie across two horizontal bars of iron, by which they are raised four or six inches from the floor. The Doctor's first care was to replenish the fire with a few sturdy pieces of wood. All through the States, I have observed that the task of feeding the fire generally devolves on the head of the family. In this little room I was introduced to Mrs. Beecher. She is, I believe, the third lady on whom the Doctor has conferred his name. In one corner of this apartment was a gun, and on the sofa a heap of shot. Thousands of wild pigeons were flying about. The visit of these birds made the Doctor very uneasy. He was ever and anon snatching up his gun, and going out to have a pop at them. Though upwards of seventy years of age, he is an excellent marksman. It was to me a little odd to see a venerable D.D., a Professor of Theology, handling a fowling-piece! The Americans, have by circumstances been trained to great skill in the use of fire-arms. The gun, however, proved a fatal instrument in the hands of one of the Doctor's sons, a young man of great promise, who was killed by the accidental explosion of one. Nevertheless, Dr. Beecher has five sons, all (like himself) in the ministry! He has a maiden daughter, who has distinguished herself by her literary attainments and active benevolence. The excellent and accomplished wife of Dr. Stowe was also a Miss Beecher.

At 1 o'clock P.M. we dined. The Professors never dine, or take any other meal, with the assembled students. This is a disadvantage. But in America eating, under any circumstances, is not so sociable a matter as in England.

After dinner, I took my leave of Dr. Beecher, and went to see the library of the institution. This is over the chapel, but so arranged as not at all to detract from the just proportions of the building. Indeed, no one would suspect that there was a story above. This library was collected with great care and judgment by Dr. Stowe, in England and on the continent of Europe, and contains 10,000 volumes! The library-room is capable of receiving 30,000 volumes. But even now it is the largest library on this side the Allegany Mountains. It comprises not only the standard works in all the departments of a theological course, but also a very rich variety of authors in general literature and science. The books are arranged in alcoves according to their character,—Theology—Biblical Literature—Classics—History—Philosophy; and so forth.

There is a "Society of Inquiry" in connection with the seminary, which has a distinct library of 326 volumes. "The Reading Room and Athenaeum" is furnished with 21 newspapers, and several of the best literary and theological periodicals.

From the library, my guide (one of the students) led me down into the lecture-room, where Professor Stowe was engaged with a Hebrew class. They were reading in the Song of Solomon. The exhibition did not strike me as much superior to what we used to have at Rotherham College ten or twelve years ago. In point of domestic comfort, the latter is incomparably before Lane Seminary, and in literary advantages not far behind. Professor Stowe kindly drove me back to Cincinnati in his buggy, or waggon, or phaeton.

Lane Seminary is an institution devoted entirely to theological education, in connection with the New-School Presbyterians. The building, including chapel and library, cost about 50,000 dollars, or 10,000l., and must have been very cheap at that. In 1828-30, Ebenezer Lane, Esq., and his brother Andrew Lane, Esq., made a donation of 4,000 dollars for the purpose of establishing the seminary, whereupon it was incorporated under the name of "Lane Seminary," and trustees were appointed. To these trustees the Rev. Mr. Kemper and his sons made over, for the benefit of the institution, 60 acres of land, including the site on which the buildings stand. In 1832 Arthur Tappan, Esq., of New York, subscribed 20,000 dollars for the Professorship of Theology. In the same year 15,000 dollars were raised for the Professorship of Ecclesiastical History; the largest contributor to which was Ambrose White, Esq., of Philadelphia: and an equal sum was contributed for the Professorship of Biblical Literature,—Stephen Van Rennselaer, Esq., of Albany, being the chief contributor. In 1835, a fund of 20,000 dollars was raised for the Professorship of Sacred Rhetoric, of which a large portion was given by John Tappan, Esq., of Boston. A literary department was organized in 1829, which was discontinued in 1834; at which period the institution, in its full operation as a Theological Seminary, may be said to have commenced. Since then it has sent forth about 250 ministers!

Candidates for admission must produce satisfactory testimonials, that they are members, in good standing, of some Christian Church; that they possess competent talents; and that they have regularly graduated at some college or university, or have pursued a course of study equivalent to the common college course.

The course of study occupies three years; and every student is expected to enter with the intention of completing the full course. So far as practicable, the different branches are pursued simultaneously. Thus the department of Biblical Literature, during the first year, occupies three days in the week; during the second, two; and during the third, one: Church History, one day in the week: Sacred Rhetoric and Pastoral Theology, one day in the week during the first year, two the second, and three the third. The object of this arrangement is to afford a pleasant variety in study, and to keep up a proper interest in all the departments through the whole course. "Hitherto," it is stated, "the plan has been pursued with results highly satisfactory to the Faculty." Theological students may be glad to learn the following particulars of the whole course.

I. BIBLICAL LITERATURE.—This department embraces—1. Biblical Geography and Antiquities. 2. Principles of Biblical Interpretation. 3. General Introduction to the Old and New Testaments, and Particular Introduction to the Pentateuch, Gospels, and Acts. 4. Interpretation of the Gospels in Harmony and of the Acts. 5. Interpretation of the Historical Writings of Moses. 6. Particular Introduction to the several Books of the Old and New Testaments. 7. Hebrew Poetry, including Figurative and Symbolical Language of Scripture. 8. Interpretation of Psalms, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes. 9. Epistles to Romans, Corinthians, Timothy, and I Peter. 10. Nature and Fulfilment of Prophecy, particularly in reference to the Messiah. 11. Interpretation of Isaiah, Zechariah, and Nahum. 12. The Revelation, in connection with Daniel.

II. CHURCH HISTORY AND POLITY.—In this department a regular course of lectures is given on the History of Doctrines to all the classes, and on Church Polity to the senior classes.

III. SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY.—In this department are included—1. Cause and Effect. 2. Mental Philosophy. 3. Atheism, its History and Hypothesis, Arguments, Objections, and Folly. 4. The Being, Character, and Attributes of God. 5. Reason, Light of Nature, Necessity of Revelation. 6. The Truth and Inspiration of the Bible. 7. Doctrine of Revelation.

IV. SACRED RHETORIC AND PASTORAL THEOLOGY. First Year.—Lectures on Rhetoric and Elocution. Exercises in Reading and Elocution. Second Year.—Written Discussions, with Public Criticism in the class. Third Year.—Exercises in criticising Skeletons continued. Public and Private Criticism of Sermons. Lectures on Preaching and on Pastoral Duties.

The annual term of study begins on the second Wednesday in September, and closes on the second Wednesday in June, which is the Anniversary. The term closes with a public examination.

Dr. Andrew Reed, who visited Lane Seminary in 1834, refers to it as a model manual-labour institution. With the advancement of society around, it has lost in a great measure that peculiarity. There is now but little done in that way, though it is still recorded in italics among its regulations, that "every student is expected to labour three hours a day at some agricultural or mechanical business." "While the leading aim of this regulation," it is added, "is to promote health and vigour of both body and mind, compensation is received according to the value of the labour."

No charge is made for tuition. Rooms are fully furnished and rented at 5 dollars a year from each student. The incidental expenses, including fuel and light for public rooms, ringing the bell, and sweeping, are 5 dollars more. The room-rent and incidental bill are paid in advance. For the aid of indigent students funds are collected annually, by means of which board is furnished to such gratuitously. To those who receive no assistance from the funds, the price of board is about 90 cents a week. The cost of fuel and lights for each student, in his own room, will average from 8 to 12 dollars a year. Thus the entire expense to a young man for a whole term of nine months is only from 50 to 60 dollars, or from 10 to 12 guineas of our money.

"The results of these thirteen years of labour," say the trustees in a document recently issued, "considering the difficulties attending the establishment of such an institution in a new country, amid a population as yet unassimilated in feelings and habits, and whose schools, academies, and colleges are of comparatively recent origin, are indeed highly encouraging. The friends of the institution, and of religion and learning generally, thankful for what has already been accomplished, will feel encouraged to do whatever may be necessary for the highest efficiency of the seminary; and will give their prayers that the labours of the 300 young men, who have enjoyed or now enjoy its advantages," (there being about 50 then in the house,) "may be abundantly blessed by the Head of the Church."

Lane Seminary is a valuable and catholic institution. At their entrance, the students have to subscribe to no confession of faith; and, when they have completed their curriculum, they are at perfect liberty to exercise their ministry among whatever denomination they please. Congregational as well as Presbyterial Churches obtain pastors from this "school of the prophets."

The "Faculty" at present consists of the Rev. Lyman Beecher, D.D., President, and Professor of Theology; the Rev. Calvin E. Stowe, D.D., Professor of Biblical Literature, and Lecturer on Church History; and the Rev. D. Howe Allen, Professor of Sacred Rhetoric and Pastoral Theology, and Lecturer on Church Polity.

Nothing struck me more than the feeling of equality that seemed to subsist between students and professors. The latter, in speaking to or of any of the former, would generally say "Brother" So-and-so. The students also, in their bearing towards the professors, seemed each to say, "I am as good a man as you are." This is the genius of America. You meet it everywhere. There man is man (except his skin be black), and he expects to be treated as such. Respect to superiors is not among the maxims of our Transatlantic brethren. The organ of veneration is, perhaps, imperfectly developed.



LETTER XIX.

A Sabbath at Cincinnati—The Second Presbyterian Church—Mutilation of a Popular Hymn—The Rushing Habit—A wrong "Guess"—A German Sunday-School—Visit to a Church of Coloured People—Engagement at the Welsh "Church"—Monthly Concert—The Medical College of Ohio—Tea at the House of a Coloured Minister.

On the previous Friday, Professor Allen called to request me to preach in his stead at the Second Presbyterian Church on Sunday morning, the 28th of February, as he had to go some twenty miles into the country to "assist at a revival." I agreed to do so. Sunday morning was excessively cold, with a heavy fall of snow. On arriving at the "church," I found there was no vestry. Indeed, a vestry, as a private room for the minister, is seldom found in America. The places are exceedingly neat and comfortable, but they want that convenience. I had therefore to go with my hat and top-coat, covered with snow, right into the pulpit. This church outside is a noble-looking building, with massive pillars in front, and a bell-tower containing a town-clock; but the interior seemed comparatively small. It had a gallery at one end, which held only the singers and the organ. The seats below were not more than one-third full. Dr. Beecher ministered in this place for about ten years. It was now without a pastor, but was temporarily supplied by Professor Allen. The congregation was far more decorous and attentive than those in New Orleans. After the introductory service, and while the hymn before sermon was being sung, a man came trudging down the aisle, bearing an immense scuttle full of coals to supply the stoves. How easy it would have been before service to place a box of fuel in the vicinity of each stove, and thereby avoid this unseemly bustle! But in the singing of the hymn, I found something to surprise and offend me even more than the coal-scuttle. The hymn was—

"O'er the gloomy hills of darkness," &c.

I had selected it myself; but when I got to the second verse, where I had expected to find

"Let the Indian, let the negro, Let the rude barbarian see," &c.,

lo! "the Indian." and "the negro" had vanished, and

"Let the dark benighted pagan"

was substituted. A wretched alteration,—as feeble and tautological in effect as it is suspicious in design. The altered reading, I learned, prevails universally in America, except in the original version used by the Welsh congregations. Slave-holders, and the abettors of that horrid system which makes it a crime to teach a negro to read the Word of God, felt perhaps that they could not devoutly and consistently sing

"Let the Indian, let the negro," &c.

This church, I heard, was more polluted with a pro-slavery feeling than any other in Cincinnati of the same denomination,—a circumstance which, I believe, had something to do with Dr. Beecher's resignation of the pastorate.

At the close of the sermon, having pronounced the benediction, I engaged, according to our English custom, in a short act of private devotion. When I raised my head and opened my eyes, the very last man of the congregation was actually making his exit through the doorway; and it was quite as much as I could manage to put on my top-coat and gloves and reach the door before the sexton closed it. This rushing habit in the House of God strikes a stranger as rude and irreverent. You meet with no indications of private devotion, either preceding or following public worship. A man marches into his pew, or his pulpit, sits down, wipes his nose, and stares at all about him; and at the close, the moment the "Amen" is uttered, he is off with as much speed as if the house were on fire. In this instance, the service had not exceeded an hour and a half; and yet they hurried out as if they thought the beef was all burnt, and the pudding all spoiled. Of course, there were no thanks to the stranger for his services,—to say nothing of the quiddam honorarium, which to a man travelling for health, at his own expense, with an invalid wife, might have been supposed not unacceptable.

When, however, I got to the portico outside, a gentleman, with his wife, was waiting to see me before they stepped into their carriage. Here was some token of politeness and hospitality,—an invitation to dinner, no doubt.—"Thank you, sir, I am very much obliged to you; but I left my wife very ill at our lodgings this morning, and therefore I cannot have the pleasure to dine with you to-day," was the civil excuse I was preparing. Never was expectation more beside the mark. My "guess" was altogether wrong. "What are you going to do with yourself this afternoon?" was the gentleman's blunt salutation. "What have you to propose, sir?" was my reply. "I am the superintendent," he said, "of a German Sunday-school in the upper part of the city, and I should like you to come and address the children this afternoon." I promised to go, and he to send to my "lodgings" for me. We both kept our appointment. The number of scholars was about 100. This effort to bring the Germans under a right religious influence is very laudable; for there are about 10,000 of that people in Cincinnati. One quarter of the city is entirely German. You see nothing else on the sign-boards; you hear nothing else in the streets. Of these Germans the greater part are Roman Catholics.

After visiting the school, I found myself in time to attend one of the chapels of the coloured people at 3 P.M. A medical student, whom I had met in the morning, and again at the German school, accompanied me. He was a New Englander, and a thorough anti-slavery man. When we got to the chapel—a Baptist one—they were at prayer. Walking in softly, we entered a pew right in the midst of them. The minister—a mulatto of about thirty years of age, with a fine intelligent eye—was very simple in dress, and unostentatious in manner. His language, too, was appropriate and correct. He was evidently a man of good common sense. His text was Psalm li. l2, l3. He referred very properly to the occasion on which the Psalm was composed, and drew from the text a large mass of sound practical instruction. The chapel (capable of containing about 150 people) was only half-full. Before the sermon, I had observed a very old negro, in a large shabby camlet cloak and a black cap, ascending the pulpit-stairs. I supposed that, being dull of hearing, he had taken that position that he might better listen to the service. However, when the sermon was over, this patriarchal-looking black man rose to pray; and he prayed "like a bishop," with astonishing correctness and fluency! He was formerly a slave in Kentucky, and was at this time about eighty years of age. They call him "Father Watkins." At the close I introduced myself to him and to the minister. They both expressed regret that they had not had me up in the pulpit, to tell them something, as "Father Watkins" said, about their "brothers and sisters on the other side of the water." The minister gave me his card, and invited me and my wife to take tea with him on Tuesday afternoon. This was the first invitation I received within the city of Cincinnati to take a meal anywhere; and it was the more interesting to me as coming from a coloured man.

In the evening I went, according to appointment, to the Welsh Chapel. There I met a Mr. Bushnel, an American missionary from the Gaboon River, on the western coast of Africa. He first spoke in English, and I afterwards a little in Welsh; gladly embracing the opportunity to exhort my countrymen in that "Far West" to feel kindly and tenderly towards the coloured race among them; asking them how they would themselves feel if, as Welshmen, they were branded and despised wherever they went! I was grieved to see the excess to which they carried the filthy habit of spitting. The coloured people in their chapel were incomparably cleaner in that respect.

In the morning a notice had been put into my hand at the Presbyterian Church for announcement, to the effect that Mr. Bushnel and myself would address the "monthly concert at the church in Sixth-street" on the morrow evening. Of this arrangement not a syllable had been said to me beforehand. This was American liberty, and I quietly submitted to it. The attendance was not large; and we two missionaries had it all to ourselves. No other ministers were present,—not even the minister of the church in which we were assembled. The people, however, seemed heartily interested in the subject of missions. At the close, a lady from Manchester, who had seen me there in 1845 at the missionary meeting, came forward full of affection to shake hands. She was a member of Mr. Griffin's church in that city, and had removed to America a few months before, with her husband (who is a member of the "Society of Friends") and children. I was glad to find that they were likely to be comfortable in their adopted country.

Next morning I went with Dr. Reuben D. Mussey, a New Englander, to see the Medical College of Ohio. Dr. Mussey is the Professor of Surgery and Dean of the Faculty, and is highly esteemed for his professional skill and general character. He and his son, who was my guide on the Sunday, very kindly showed and explained to me everything of interest in the institution. The cabinet belonging to the anatomical department is supplied with all the materials necessary for acquiring a minute and perfect knowledge of the human frame. These consist of detached bones, of wired natural skeletons, and of dried preparations to exhibit the muscles, bloodvessels, nerves, &c. The cabinet of comparative anatomy is supposed to be more extensively supplied than any other in the United States. Besides perfect skeletons of American and foreign birds and other animals, there is an immense number of detached crania, from the elephant and hippopotamus down to the minuter orders. The cabinet in the surgical department has been formed at great expense, chiefly by Dr. Mussey himself, during the labour of more than forty years. It contains a large number of rare specimens,—600 specimens of diseased bones alone. Other departments are equally well furnished. The Faculty is composed of six Professorships,—Surgery, Anatomy and Physiology, Chemistry and Pharmacy, Materia Medica, Obstetrics and Diseases of Women and Children, and the Theory and Practice of Medicine. The fees of tuition are only 15 dollars, or 3 guineas, to each professor, making an aggregate of 90 dollars. There were 190 students. It will probably be admitted that this institution, formed in a new country, has arrived at an astonishing degree of vigour and maturity. It is only one of many instances in which the Americans are before us in the facilities afforded for professional education.

In the afternoon my wife and myself went to take tea with the coloured minister. His dwelling, though small and humble, was neat and clean. With his intelligence and general information we were quite delighted. He spoke with feeling of the gross insults to which the coloured people, even in this free State, are exposed. When they travel by railway, though they pay the same fare as other people, they are generally put in the luggage-van! He had himself, when on board of steam-boats, often been sent to the "pantry" to eat his food. Nor will the white people employ them but in the most menial offices; so that it is nearly impossible for them to rise to affluence and horse-and-gig respectability. The consequence is that they are deeply and justly disaffected towards the American people and the American laws. They clearly understand that England is their friend. For one month all the free coloured people wore crape as mourning for Thomas Clarkson.



LETTER XX.

Stay at Cincinnati (continued)—The New Roman Catholic Cathedral—The Rev. C. B. Boynton and Congregationalism—"The Herald of a New Era"—American Nationality.

A lady, belonging to the Presbyterian Church at which I preached, kindly sent her carriage to take us about to see the city. We visited the new Roman Catholic Cathedral, one of the principal "lions." It was begun in 1841, and, though used for public worship, is not yet finished. The building is a parallelogram of 200 feet long by 80 feet wide, and is 58 feet from the floor to the ceiling. The roof is partly supported by the side walls, and partly by two rows of freestone columns—nine in each row—at a distance of about 11 feet from the wall inside. These columns are of the Corinthian Order, and are 35 feet high, and 3 feet 6 inches in diameter. There is no gallery, except at one end, for the organ, which cost 5,400 dollars, or about 1,100l. sterling. The floor of the building is furnished with a centre aisle of 6 feet wide, and two other aisles, each 11 feet wide, along the side walls, for processional purposes. The remainder of the area is formed into 140 pews, 10 feet deep. Each pew will accommodate with comfort only six persons; so that this immense edifice affords sitting room for no more than 840 people! It is a magnificent structure, displaying in all its proportions a remarkable degree of elegance and taste. The tower, when finished, will present an elevation of 200 feet, with a portico of twelve Corinthian columns, six in front and three on either side, on the model of the Tower of the Wind at Athens. The entire building will be Grecian in all its parts. One-fourth of the population of Cincinnati are Roman Catholics. They have lately discontinued the use of public government-schools for their children, and have established some of their own, I am not so much alarmed at the progress of Popery in America as I was before I visited that country. Its proselytes are exceedingly few. Its supporters consist chiefly of the thousands of Europeans, already Roman Catholic, who flock to the New World. The real progress of Popery is greater in Britain than in America.

In the evening I preached for Mr. Boynton in the "Sixth-street Church," Mr. Boynton and his Church, heretofore Presbyterians, have recently become Congregationalists. This has given great umbrage to the Presbyterians. Congregationalism is rapidly gaining ground in the Western World, and seems destined there, as in England since Cromwell's time, to swallow up Presbyterianism. I make no invidious comparison between the two systems: I merely look at facts. And it does appear to me that Congregationalism—so simple, so free, so unsectarian, and so catholic—is nevertheless a powerful absorbent. It has absorbed all that was orthodox in the old Presbyterian Churches of England; and it is absorbing the Calvinistic Methodists and the churches named after the Countess of Huntingdon. It has all along exerted a powerful influence on the Presbyterianism of America. The Congregational element diffused among those churches occasioned the division of the Presbyterian Church into Old School and New School.

Mr. Boynton is what a friend of mine called "intensely American." He has lately published, under the title of "Our Country the Herald of a New Era," a lecture delivered before the "Young Men's Mercantile Library Association." To show the magnificent ideas the Americans entertain of themselves and their country, I will transcribe a few passages.

"This nation is an enigma, whose import no man as yet may fully know. She is a germ of boundless things. The unfolded bud excites the hope of one-half the human race, while it stirs the remainder with both anger and alarm. Who shall now paint the beauty and attraction of the expanded flower? Our Eagle is scarcely fledged; but one wing stretches over Massachusetts Bay, and the other touches the mouth of the Columbia. Who shall say, then, what lands shall be overshadowed by the full-grown pinion? Who shall point to any spot of the northern continent, and say, with certainty, Here the starry banner shall never be hailed as the symbol of dominion? [The annexation of Canada!] * * * It cannot be disguised that the idea is gathering strength among us, that the territorial mission of this nation is to obtain and hold at least all that lies north of Panama. * * * Whether the millions that are to dwell on the great Pacific slope of our continent are to acknowledge our banner, or rally to standards of their own; whether Mexico is to become ours by sudden conquest or gradual absorption; whether the British provinces, when they pass from beneath the sceptre of England, shall be incorporated with us, or retain an independent dominion;—are perhaps questions which a not distant future may decide. However they may be settled, the great fact will remain essentially the same, that the two continents of this Western Hemisphere shall yet bear up a stupendous social, political, and religious structure, wrought by the American mind, moulded and coloured by the hues of American thought, and animated and united by an American soul. It seems equally certain that, whatever the divisions of territory may be, these United States are the living centre, from which already flows the resistless stream which will ultimately absorb in its own channel, and bear on its own current, the whole thought of the two Americas. * * * If, then, I have not over-rated the moral and intellectual vigour of the people of this nation, and of the policy lately avowed to be acted upon—that the further occupation of American soil by the Governments of Europe is not to be suffered,—then the inference is a direct one, that the stronger elements will control and absorb the lesser, so that the same causes which melted the red races away will send the influence of the United States not only over the territory north of Panama, but across the Isthmus, and southward to Magellan."

The "New Era" of which America is the "Herald" is, he tells us, to be marked by three grand characteristics,—

"First. A new theory and practice in government and in social life, such as the world has never seen, of which we only perceive the germ as yet." Already have you indeed presented before the world your "peculiar institution" of slavery in a light new and striking. Already have you a "theory and practice" in the government of slaves such as the world never beheld!

"Second. A literature which shall not only be the proper outgrowth of the American mind, but which shall form a distinctive school, as clearly so as the literature of Greece!" Under this head he says, "Very much would I prefer that our literature should appear even in the guise of the awkward, speculating, guessing, but still original, strong-minded American Yankee, than to see it mincing in the costume of a London dandy. I would rather see it, if need be, showing the wild rough strength, the naturalness and fervour of the extreme West, equally prepared to liquor with a stranger or to fight with him, than to see it clad in the gay but filthy garments of the saloons of Paris. Nay more, much as every right mind abhors and detests such things, I would sooner behold our literature holding in one hand the murderous Bowie knife, and in the other the pistol of the duellist, than to see her laden with the foul secrets of a London hell, or the gaming-houses of Paris. * * * If we must meet with vice in our literature, let it be the growth of our own soil; for I think our own rascality has yet the healthier aspect."

"Third. A new era in the fine arts, from which future ages shall derive their models and their inspirations, as we do from Greece and Italy. * * * So far as scenery is concerned in the moulding of character, we may safely expect that a country where vastness and beauty are so wonderfully blended will stamp upon the national soul its own magestic and glorious image. It must be so. The mind will expand itself to the measure of things about it. Deep in the wide American soul there shall be Lake Superiors, inland oceans of thought; and the streams of her eloquence shall be like the sweep of the Mississippi in his strength. The rugged strength of the New England hills, the luxuriance of the sunny South, the measureless expanse of the prairie, the broad flow of our rivers, the dashing of our cataracts, the huge battlements of the everlasting mountains,—these are American. On the face of the globe there is nothing like to them. When therefore these various influences have been thoroughly wrought into the national soul, there will be such a correspondence between man and the works of God about him, that our music, our poetry, our eloquence, our all, shall be our own, individual and peculiar, like the Amazon and the Andes, the Mississippi and Niagara, alone in their strength and glory."

Now, mark you! amidst all these splendid visions of the future, there is no vision of liberty for 3,000,000 of slaves. That idea was too small to find a place among conceptions so vast. The lecture contains not a syllable of reference to them. On the contrary, the empty boast of freedom is heard in the following words of solemn mockery: "The soul of man here no longer sits bound and blind amid the despotic forms of the past; it walks abroad without a shackle, and with an uncovered eye." It follows then that there is an essential difference between "the soul of man" and the soul of "nigger," or rather that "niggers" have no soul at all. How can men of sense, and especially ministers of the Gospel, sit down to pen such fustian? These extracts show how intensely national the Americans are, and consequently how futile the apology for the existence of slavery so often presented, that one State can no more interfere with the affairs of another State than the people of England can with France and the other countries of the European continent. The Americans are to all intents and purposes one people. In short, the identity of feeling among the States of the Union is more complete than among the counties of Great Britain.

On the morning of the 4th of March, Dr. Stowe called to invite me to address the students at Lane Seminary, on the following Sabbath evening, on the subject of missions and the working of freedom in the West Indies. I readily promised to comply, glad of an opportunity to address so many of the future pastors of the American Churches, who will occupy the field when emancipation is sure to be the great question of the day. In fact, it is so already.



LETTER XXI.

Stay at Cincinnati (continued)—The Orphan Asylum—A Coloured Man and a White Fop treated as each deserved—A Trip across to Covington—Mr. Gilmore and the School for Coloured Children—"The Fugitive Slave to the Christian"—Sabbath—Mr. Boynton—Dr. Beecher—Lane Seminary—Departure from Cincinnati.

In the afternoon we went with Mrs. Judge B—— to see an Orphan Asylum, in which she took a deep interest. Requested to address the children, I took the opportunity of delivering an anti-slavery and anti-colour-hating speech. The building, large and substantial, is capable of accommodating 300 children; but the number of inmates was at that time not more than 70. While the lady was showing us from one apartment to another, and pointing out to us the comforts and conveniences of the institution, the following colloquy took place.

Myself.—"Now, Mrs. B, this place is very beautiful: I admire it exceedingly. Would you refuse a little coloured orphan admission into this asylum?"

The Lady. (stretching herself up to her full height, and with a look of horror and indignation),—"Indeed, we would!"

Myself.—"Oh, shocking! shocking!"

The Lady.—"Oh! there is another asylum for the coloured children; they are not neglected."

Myself.—"Ay, but why should they not be together?—why should there be such a distinction between the children of our common Father?"

The Lady. (in a tone of triumph).—"Why has God made such a distinction between them?"

Myself.—"And why has he made such a distinction between me and Tom Thumb? Or (for I am not very tall) why has he made me a man of 5 feet 6 inches instead of 6 feet high? A man may as well be excluded from society on account of his stature as his colour."

At this moment my wife, seeing I was waxing warm, pulled me by the coat-tail, and I said no more. The lady, however, went on to say that she was opposed to slavery—was a colonizationist, and heartily wished all the coloured people were back again in their own country. "In their own country, indeed!" I was going to say,—"why, this is their country as much as it is yours;" but I remembered my wife's admonition, and held my peace. These were the sentiments of a lady first and foremost in the charitable movements of the day, and regarded by those around her as a pattern of piety and benevolence. She was shocked at the notion of the poor coloured orphan mingling with fellow-orphans of a fairer hue.

In the evening we went to take tea at the house of an English Quaker. About half-a-dozen friends had been invited to meet us. These were kindred spirits, anti-slavery out-and-out, and we spent the evening very pleasantly. One of the company, in speaking of the American prejudice against colour, mentioned a remarkable circumstance. Some time ago, at an hotel in one of the Eastern States, a highly respectable coloured gentleman, well known to the host and to his guests, was about to sit down at the dinner table. A military officer—a conceited puppy—asked the landlord if that "nigger" was going to sit down? The landlord replied in the affirmative. "Then," said the fop, "I cannot sit down with a nigger." The rest of the company, understanding what was going forward, rose as one man from their seats, ordered another table to be spread, and presented a respectful invitation to the coloured gentleman to take a seat with them. The military dandy was left at the first table, "alone in his glory." When thus humbled, and when he also understood who the coloured man was, he went up to him to apologize in the best way he could, and to beg that the offence might be forgotten. The coloured gentleman's reply was beautiful and touching,—"Favours I write on marble, insults on sand."

On the morning of the 5th of March, the sun shining pleasantly, we were tempted to cross over to Covington, on the Kentucky or slave side of the river. Ferry-steamers ran every five or ten minutes, and the fare was only 5 cents. At this place the Baptists have a large and important college. Why did they erect it on the slave rather than on the free side of the Ohio? This institution I was anxious to see; but I found it too far off, and the roads too bad. Feeling weary and faint, we called at a house of refreshment, where we had a genuine specimen of American inquisitiveness.

In five minutes the daughter of the house had asked us where we came from—what sort of a place it was—how long we had been in the United States—how long it took us to come—how far we were going—how long we should stay—and if we did not like that part of America so well that we would come and settle in it altogether! and in five minutes more our answers to all these important questions had been duly reported to the rest of the family in an adjoining room. This inquisitiveness prevails more in the slave than in the free States, and originates, I believe, in the fidgetty anxiety they feel about their slaves. The stranger must be well catechised, lest he should prove to be an Abolitionist come to give the slaves a sly lesson in geography.

In the afternoon I went to see the school of the coloured children in Cincinnati. This was established about four years ago by a Mr. Gilmore, a white gentleman, who is also a minister of the Gospel. He is a man of some property, and all connected with this school has been done at his own risk and responsibility. On my venturing to inquire what sacrifice of property he had made in the undertaking, he seemed hurt at the question, and replied, "No sacrifice whatever, sir." "But what, may I ask, have these operations cost beyond what you have received in the way of school-fees?" I continued. "About 7,000 dollars," (1,500l.) said he. Including two or three branches, there are about 300 coloured children thus educated. Mr. Gilmore was at first much opposed and ridiculed; but that state of feeling was beginning to wear away. Several of the children were so fair that, accustomed as I am to shades of colour, I could not distinguish them from the Anglo-Saxon race; and yet Mr. Gilmore told me even they would not have been admitted to the other public schools! How discerning the Americans are! How proud of their skin-deep aristocracy! And the author of "Cincinnati in 1841," in speaking of those very schools from which these fair children were excluded, says, "These schools are founded not merely on the principle that all men are free and equal, but that all men's children are so likewise; and that, as it is our duty to love our neighbour as ourselves, it is our duty to provide the same benefits and blessings to his children as to our own. These establishments result from the recognition of the fact also, that we have all a common interest—moral, political, and pecuniary—in the education of the whole community." Those gloriously exclusive schools I had no wish to visit. But I felt a peculiar pleasure in visiting this humbler yet well-conducted institution, for the benefit of those who are despised and degraded on account of their colour. As I entered, a music-master was teaching them, with the aid of a piano, to sing some select pieces for an approaching examination, both the instrument and the master having been provided by the generous Gilmore. Even the music-master, notwithstanding his first-rate ability, suffers considerable loss of patronage on account of his services in this branded school. Among the pieces sung, and sung exceedingly well, was the following touching appeal, headed "The Fugitive Slave to the Christian"—Air, "Cracovienne."

"The fetters galled my weary soul,— A soul that seemed but thrown away: I spurned the tyrant's base control, Resolved at last the man to play: The hounds are haying on my track; O Christian! will you send me back?

"I felt the stripes,—the lash I saw, Red dripping with a father's gore; And, worst of all their lawless law, The insults that my mother bore! The hounds are baying on my track; O Christian! will you send me back?

"Where human law o'errules Divine, Beneath the sheriff's hammer fell My wife and babes,—I call them mine,— And where they suffer who can tell? The hounds are baying on my track; O Christian! will you send me back?

"I seek a home where man is man, If such there be upon this earth,— To draw my kindred, if I can, Around its free though humble hearth. The hounds are baying on my track; O Christian! will you send me back?"

March 7.—This being the Sabbath, we went in the morning to worship at Mr. Boynton's church. The day was very wet, and the congregation small. His text was, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned." The sermon, though read, and composed too much in the essay style, indicated considerable powers of mind and fidelity of ministerial character. Although from incessant rain the day was very dark, the Venetian blinds were down over all the windows! The Americans, I have since observed, are particularly fond of the "dim religious light." Among the announcements from the pulpit were several funerals, which it is there customary thus to advertise.

In the afternoon I heard Dr. Beecher. Here, again, I found the blinds down. The Doctor's text was, "Let me first go and bury my father," &c. Without at all noticing the context,—an omission which I regretted,—he proceeded at once to state the doctrine of the text to be, that nothing can excuse the putting off of religion—that it is every man's duty to follow Christ immediately. This subject, notwithstanding the heaviness of the day, the infirmities of more than threescore years and ten (74), and the frequent necessity of adjusting his spectacles to consult his notes, he handled with much vigour and zeal. Some of his pronunciations were rather antiquated; but they were the elegant New England pronunciations of his youthful days. The sermon was marked by that close and faithful dealing with the conscience in which so many American ministers excel.

Professor Allen called to take me up to Lane Seminary, where I was to address the students in the evening. The service was public, and held in the chapel of the institution; but the evening being wet, the congregation was small. I had, however, before me the future pastors of about fifty churches, and two of the professors. I was domiciled at Mr. Allen's. Both he and his intelligent wife are sound on the subject of slavery. They are also quite above the contemptible prejudice against colour. But I was sorry to hear Mrs. Allen say, that, in her domestic arrangements, she had often had a great deal of trouble with her European servants, who would refuse to take their meals with black ones, though the latter were in every respect superior to the former! I have heard similar remarks in other parts of America. Mr. Allen's system of domestic training appeared excellent. His children, of whom he has as many as the patriarch Jacob, were among the loveliest I had ever seen.

At 8 o'clock in the morning of the 8th of March I left Lane Seminary, with a heavy heart at the thought that in all probability I should never see it again. There was a sharp frost. Dr. Stowe accompanied me to the omnibus. "All right!"—"Pax vobiscum!"—the vehicle moved on, and directly the Doctor was at a distance of a hundred yards waving a farewell. It was the last look.

At 11 A.M. myself, wife, baggage,—all were setting off from the "Queen City" for Pittsburgh, a distance of 496 miles, in the Clipper No. 2, a fine boat, and in good hands.



LETTER XXII.

Cincinnati—Its History and Progress—Its Trade and Commerce—Its Periodical Press—Its Church Accommodation—Its Future Prospects —Steaming up the Ohio—Contrast between Freedom and Slavery—An Indian Mound—Splendid Scenery—Coal Hills.

Before proceeding with our trip to Pittsburg, I will bring together all the material points of information I have gathered relative to Cincinnati.

1. Its History and Progress.—The first year of the present century found here but 750 inhabitants. In 1810 there were 2,540; in 1820, 9,602; in 1830, 24,381; in 1840, 46,382. At present the population is estimated at 80,000. The coloured population forms one twenty-fifth, or 4 per cent., of the whole. The native Europeans form one-fifth of the white population.

2. Its Trade and Commerce.—The principal trade is in pork. Hence the nickname of Porkapolis. The yearly value of pork packed and exported is about five millions of dollars, or one million of guineas! As a proof of the amazing activity which characterizes all the details of cutting, curing, packing, &c., I have been credibly informed that two men, in one of the pork-houses, cut up in less than thirteen hours 850 hogs, averaging 300 lbs. each,—two others placing them on the block for the purpose. All these hogs were weighed singly on scales in the course of eleven hours. Another hand trimmed the hams, 1,700 pieces, in "Cincinnati style," as fast as they were separated from the carcases. The hogs were thus cut up and disposed of at the rate of more than one per minute! And this, I was told, was not much beyond the ordinary day's work at the pork-houses.

Steam-boat building is another important branch of trade in this place.

DOLLARS. In 1840 there were built here 33 boats of 15,341 tons, costing 592,600 1844 " " 37 " 7,838 " 542,500 1845 " " 27 " 6,609 " 506,500

3. Its Periodical Press.—There are sixteen daily papers! Of these, thirteen issue also a weekly number. Besides these, there are seventeen weekly papers unconnected with daily issues. But Cincinnati is liberal in her patronage of eastern publications. During the year 1845 one house, that of Robinson and Jones, the principal periodical depot in the city, and through which the great body of the people are supplied with this sort of literature, sold of

Magazines and Periodicals 29,822 numbers. Newspapers 25,390[1] " Serial Publications 30,826 " Works of Fiction 48,961 " !

[Footnote 1: Besides an immense quantity sent direct per mail!]

It is estimated that the people of the United States, at the present time, support 1,200 newspapers. There being no stamp-duty, no duty on paper, and none on advertisements, the yearly cost of a daily paper, such as the New York Tribune for instance, is only 5 dollars, or one guinea. The price of a single copy of such papers is only 2 cents, or one penny; and many papers are only one cent, or a half-penny per copy.

4. Its Church Accommodation.—By the close of the year 1845 the voluntary principle, without any governmental or municipal aid whatever, had provided the following places of worship:—

Presbyterian 12 New Jerusalem 1 Methodist Episcopal 12 Universalist 1 Roman Catholic 7 Second Advent 1 Baptist 5 Mormons 1 Lutheran 5 Friends 1 Protestant Episcopal 4 Congregational 1 "Christian Disciples" 4 Restorationists 1 Methodist Protestants 3 United Brethren 1 Jewish 2 "Christians" 1 Welsh 2 German Reformed 2 Total 67

This number of places of worship, at an average of 600 persons to each, would afford accommodation for nearly two-thirds of what the entire population was at that time; and surely two-thirds of any community is quite as large a proportion as can, under the most favourable circumstances, be expected to attend places of worship at any given time. Behold, then, the strength and efficiency of the voluntary principle! This young city, with all its wants, is far better furnished with places of worship than the generality of commercial and manufacturing towns in England.

Dr. Reed visited Cincinnati in 1834. He gives the population at that time at 30,000, and the places of worship as follows. I insert them that you may see at a glance what the voluntary principle did in the eleven years that followed.

Presbyterian 6 Campbellite Baptists 1 Methodist 4 Jews 1 Baptist 2 — Episcopalian 2 Total in 1834 21 German Lutheran 2 Do. in 1845 67 Unitarian 1 — Roman Catholic 1 Increase 46 Swedes 1

5. Its Future Prospects.—The author of "Cincinnati in 1841" says, "I venture the prediction that within 100 years from this time Cincinnati will be the greatest city in America, and by the year of our Lord 2,000 the greatest city in the world." Our cousin here uses the superlative degree when the comparative would be more appropriate. Deduct 80 or 90 per cent, from this calculation, and you still leave before this city a bright prospect of future greatness.

We must, however, bid adieu to this "Queen of the West," and pursue our course against the Ohio's current towards Pittsburg. We steam along between freedom and slavery. The contrast is striking. On this subject the remarks of the keen and philosophic M. de Tocqueville are so accurate, and so much to the point, that I cannot do better than transcribe and endorse them.

"A century had scarcely elapsed since the foundation of the colonies, when the attention of the planters was struck by the extraordinary fact that the provinces which were comparatively destitute of slaves increased in population, in wealth, and in prosperity, more rapidly than those which contained the greatest number of negroes. In the former, however, the inhabitants were obliged to cultivate the soil themselves, or by hired labourers; in the latter, they were furnished with hands for which they paid no wages: yet, although labour and expense were on the one side, and ease with economy on the other, the former were in possession of the most advantageous system. * * * The more progress was made, the more was it shown that slavery, which is so cruel to the slave, is prejudicial to the master.

"But this truth was most satisfactorily demonstrated when civilization reached the banks of the Ohio. The stream which the Indians had distinguished by the name of Ohio, or Beautiful River, waters one of the most magnificent valleys which have ever been made the abode of man. Undulating lands extend upon both shores of the Ohio, whose soil affords inexhaustible treasures to the labourer. On either bank the air is wholesome and the climate mild; and each of those banks forms the extreme frontier of a vast State: that which follows the numerous windings of the Ohio on the left is Kentucky [in ascending the river it was on our right]; that on the right [our left] bearing the name of the river. These two States differ only in one respect,—Kentucky has admitted slavery, but the State of Ohio has not. * * *

"Upon the left bank of the stream the population is rare; from time to time one descries a troop of slaves loitering in the half-desert fields; the primeval forest recurs at every turn; society seems to be asleep, man to be idle, and nature alone offers a scene of activity and life.

"From the right bank, on the contrary, a confused hum is heard, which proclaims the presence of industry; the fields are covered with abundant harvests; the elegance of the dwellings announces the taste and activity of the labourer; and man appears to be in the enjoyment of that wealth and contentment which are the reward of labour."

The Kentucky and the Ohio States are nearly equal as to their area in square miles. Kentucky was founded in 1775, and Ohio in 1788. In 1840 the population of Kentucky was 779,828, while that of Ohio was 1,519,467—nearly double that of the former. By this time it is far more than double.

"Upon the left bank of the Ohio," continues De Tocqueville, "labour is confounded with the idea of slavery; upon the right bank it is identified with that of prosperity and improvement: on the one side it is degraded, on the other it is honoured. On the former territory no white labourers can be found, for they would be afraid of assimilating themselves to the negroes; on the latter no one is idle, for the white population extends its activity and its intelligence to every kind of improvement. Thus the men whose task it is to cultivate the rich soil of Kentucky are ignorant and lukewarm; while those who are active and enlightened either do nothing or pass over into the State of Ohio, where they may work without dishonour."

March the 9th was a dull day; but the scenery was of surpassing beauty. At night a terrible storm of thunder and lightning, accompanied with rain, compelled us to "lie to." A charming morning succeeded. During the forenoon, we passed a small town on the Virginia side called Elizabeth Town. An Indian mound was pointed out to me, which in size and shape resembled "Tomen y Bala" in North Wales. These artificial mounds are very numerous in the valleys of the Ohio and the Mississippi. The ancient relics they are sometimes found to contain afford abundant proofs that these fertile regions were once peopled by a race of men in a far higher state of civilization than the Indians when first discovered by the white man. The innocent and imaginative speculations of a Christian minister in the State of Ohio on these ancient remains laid the foundation of the curious book of "Mormon."

Nature being now arrayed in her winter dress, we could form but a faint conception of her summer loveliness when clothed in her gayest green. Hills were seen rising up, sometimes almost perpendicularly from the stream, and sometimes skirted with fertile fields extending to the river's edge. Here a house on the brow of a hill, and there another at its base. Here the humble log hut, and there the elegant mansion, and sometimes both in unequal juxtaposition. The hills are in parts scolloped in continuous succession, presenting a beautiful display of unity and diversity combined; but often they appear in isolated and distinct grandeur, like a row of semi-globes; while, in other instances, they rise one above another like apples in a fruit-vase. Sometimes the rivulets are seen like silver cords falling perpendicularly into the river; at other times, you discern them only by their musical murmurs as they roll on through deep ravines formed by their own action. These hills, for more than 100 miles before you come to Pittsburg, are literally heaps of coal. In height they vary from 100 to 500 feet, and nothing more is required than to clear off the soil, and then dig away the treasure.

What struck me most was the immense number of children everywhere gazing upon us from the river's banks. At settlements of not more than half-a-dozen houses, I counted a groupe of more than twenty children.



LETTER XXIII.

Arrival at Pittsburg—Its Trade and Prospects—Temperance—Newspapers —Trip up the Monongahela to Brownsville—Staging by Night across the Alleghany Mountains—Arrival at Cumberland—The Railway Carriages of America.

Arriving at Pittsburg in the middle of the night of the 10th of March, we remained on board till morning. As we had been accustomed on this "Clipper No. 2" to breakfast at half-past 7, I thought they surely would not send us empty away. But no! we had to turn out at that early hour of a morning piercingly cold, and get a breakfast where we could, or remain without. This was "clipping" us rather too closely, after we had paid seven dollars each for our passage and provisions.

Pittsburg is in the State of Pennsylvania. Its progress has been rapid, and its prospects are bright. Seventy years ago the ground on which it stands was a wilderness, the abode of wild beasts and the hunting ground of Indians. Its manufactures are chiefly those of glass, iron, and cotton. It is the Birmingham of America. Indeed one part of it, across the river, is called "Birmingham," and bids fair to rival its old namesake. Its advantages and resources are unparalleled. It occupies in reference to the United States, north and south, east and west, a perfectly central position. It is surrounded with, solid mountains of coal, which—dug out, as I have intimated, with the greatest ease—is conveyed with equal ease down inclined planes to the very furnace mouths of the foundries and factories! This great workshop communicates directly, by means of the Ohio, the Mississippi, Red River, &c., with immense countries, extending to Texas, to Mexico, and to the Gulph. Its population, already 70,000, is (I believe) incomparably more intelligent, more temperate, more religious, and more steady than that of any manufacturing town in England. In fact, England has not much chance of competing successfully with America, unless her artizans copy more extensively the example of the American people in the entire abandonment of intoxicating liquors. In travelling leisurely from New Orleans to Boston (the whole length of the United States), and sitting down at all sorts of tables, on land and on water, private and public, I have never once seen even wine brought to the table. Nothing but water was universally used!

At Pittsburg I bought three good-sized newspapers for 5 cents, or twopence-halfpenny. One of them, The Daily Morning Post, was a large sheet, measuring 3 feet by 2, and well filled on both sides with close letter-press, for 2 cents, or one penny. The absence of duty on paper and of newspaper stamps is no doubt one great cause of the advanced intelligence of the mass of the American people. What an absurd policy is that of the British Government, first to impose taxes upon knowledge, and then to use the money in promoting education!

At Pittsburg the Ohio ends, or rather begins, by the confluence of the Alleghany and the Monongahela rivers. We ascended the latter to Brownsville, about 56 miles. Having booked ourselves at an office, we had to get into a smaller steamer on the other side of the bridge which spans the river. The entire charge to Philadelphia was 12 dollars each. We went by the "Consul," at half-past 8 A.M. of the 11th of March. The water was very high, as had been the case in the Ohio all the way from Cincinnati. We had not proceeded far when I found the passengers a-stir, as if they had got to their journey's end. What was the matter? Why, we had come to falls, which it was very doubtful whether the steamer could get over. The passengers were soon landed, and the steamer, with the crew, left to attempt the ascent. There were locks at hand by which, under ordinary circumstances, boats evaded the difficulty; but the flood was now so great that they could not be used. Our steamer, therefore, stirred up her fires, raised her steam, brought all her powers to bear, faced the difficulty, dashed into it, cut along, and set at defiance the fury of the flood. "There she goes!"—"No!"—"Yes!"—"No!"—"She's at a stand,"—the next moment she was gliding back with the torrent: she had failed! But nil desperandum. "Try—try—try again!" An immense volume of smoke issued from her chimney, and soon she seemed again to be fully inflated with her vapoury aliment. I expected every moment an explosion, and, while rejoicing in our own safety on terra firma, felt tremblingly anxious for the lives of those on board. Having had sufficient time to "recover strength," she made for the foaming surge once more. "There she goes!"—"No!"—"Yes!"—she paused—but it was only for the twinkling of an eye,—the next moment she was over, and the bank's of the Monongahela resounded with the joyful shouts of the gazing passengers. We now breathed more freely, and were soon on board again; but we had not advanced very far before we had to get out once more, in consequence of other falls, which were stemmed with the same inconvenience, the same anxiety, and the same success as in the preceding instance.

But ere long an obstacle more formidable than the falls presented itself—a bridge across the river. This bridge the boats were accustomed to pass under, but the water was now so high that it could not be done; and we had to wait till another boat belonging to the same company, above the bridge, came down from Brownsville, and enabled us to effect an exchange of passengers; for neither of the boats could get under the bridge. The down boat soon made its appearance; and a scene of confusion ensued which I know not how to describe. Imagine two sets of passengers, about 150 persons in each set, exchanging boats! Three hundred travellers jostling against each other, with "plunder" amounting to some thousands of packages, to be removed a distance of 300 or 400 yards, at the risk and responsibility of the owners, without any care or concern on the part of the officers of the boats! Trunks seemed to run on wheels, carpet-bags to have wings, and portmanteaus to jump about like grasshoppers. If you had put down one article while looking for the rest, in an instant it would be gone. In this amusing scuffle were involved several members of Congress, returning in the "down" boat from their legislative duties. The celebrated Judge M'Lean was among them. But the safety of some box or parcel was just then—to most of us—of more importance than all the great men in the world. The baggage storm being over, and the great division and trans-shipment effected, we moved forward in peace. By-and-by, however, each one was called upon to show his baggage, that it might be set apart for the particular coach to which it would have to be consigned. This was a most troublesome affair. At half-past 6 in the evening we arrived at Brownsville, having been ten hours in getting over the 56 miles from Pittsburg.

And now for the stage-coaches; for, nolens volens, "a-head" we must go that very night. About seven or eight coaches were filled by those of our fellow-passengers who, like ourselves, were going to cross the mountains. Some of the vehicles set off immediately; but three waited to let their passengers get tea or supper, meals which in America are identical. About 8 P.M. we started on our cold and dreary journey of 73 miles across the Alleghany Mountains. A stage-coach in America is a very different thing from the beautiful machine that used to pass by that name in England.

It has no outside accommodation, except for one person on the box along with the driver. The inside, in addition to the fore seat and the hind seat, has also a middle seat across the vehicle. Each of these three seats holds three persons, making nine in all. In our stage we had ten persons; but the ten, in a pecuniary point of view, were only eight and a half. The night was fearfully dark, and the roads were altogether unworthy of the name. Yet there is an immense traffic on this route, which is the highway from East to West. The Americans, with all their "smartness," have not the knack of making either good roads or good streets. About 11 P.M. we arrived at Uniontown, 12 miles from Brownsville. There the horses were to be changed, an operation which took about an hour to accomplish. Three coaches were there together. The passengers rushed out of the inn, where we had been warming ourselves, and jumped into the coaches. Crack went the whips, off went the horses, and round went the wheels. But, alas! while we could hear the rattling of the other coaches, our own moved not at all! "Driver, why don't you be off?" No answer. "Driver, push on." No reply. "Go a-head, driver,—don't keep us here all night." No notice taken. We began to thump and stamp. No response. At last I put my head out through the window. There was no driver; and, worse still, there were no horses! How was this? There was no "team," we were told, for our coach! I jumped out, and began to make diligent inquiry: one told me one thing, and another another. At length I learned that there was a "team" in the stable, but there was no driver disposed to go. The one who should have taken us was cursing and swearing in bed, and would not get up. This was provoking enough. "Where is the agent of the stage-coach company?"—"He lives about 47 miles off." "Where is the landlord of this house?"—"He is in bed." There we were helpless and deserted on the highroad, between 12 and 1 o'clock, in an extremely cold night, without any redress or any opportunity of appeal! It was nobody's business to care for us. I groped my way, however, to some outbuilding, where about half-a-dozen drivers were snoring in their beds, and, with the promise of making it "worth his while," succeeded in inducing one of them to get up and take us to the next place for changing horses. But before we could get off it was 2 o'clock in the morning. We reached the next station, a distance of 10 miles, at 5 P.M., and paid our driver two dollars. In America drivers are not accustomed to receive gratuities from passengers, but ours was a peculiar case. After a most wearisome day of travel, being tossed about in the coach like balls, expecting every moment to be upset, and feeling bruised all over, we reached Cumberland at 9 P.M., having been 25 hours in getting over 73 miles, at the amazing rate of 3 miles an hour! In Cumberland we had to stay all night.

At 8 A.M. the next day we set off by railway, or (as the Americans would say) "by the cars," to Baltimore. In committing my trunk to the luggage-van, I was struck with the simplicity and suitableness of the check system there adopted. A piece of tin, with a certain number upon it, was fastened by a strap to each article of baggage, and a duplicate piece given to the passenger. I also remarked the size, shape, and fittings-up of the cars. They are from 30 to 50 feet long, having an aisle right through the middle from end to end, and on each side of that aisle rows of seats, each of sufficient length to accommodate two persons. The arrangement reminded me of a little country meeting-house, the congregation amounting to from 50 to 100 persons. Each carriage contained a stove,—at that season a most important article of furniture. The seats, which were very nicely cushioned, had their hacks so arranged as that the passengers could easily turn them as they pleased, and sit with either their faces or their backs "towards the horses" as they might feel disposed. This part of the arrangement is indispensable, as these long carriages can never be turned. The hind part in coming is the fore part in going, and vice versa. The distinctions of first, second, and third class carriages are unknown. That would be too aristocratic. But the "niggers" must go into the luggage-van. These republican carriages are very neatly fitted up, being mostly of mahogany with crimson velvet linings; but you often feel annoyed that such dirty people should get in.



LETTER XXIV.

Journey by Railroad from Cumberland to Baltimore—A Tedious Stoppage —A Sabbath in Baltimore—Fruitless Inquiry—A Presbyterian Church and Dr. Plummer—Richmond and its Resolutions—Dr Plummer's Pro slavery Manifesto—The Methodist Episcopal Church.

The railway from Cumberland to Baltimore is 178 miles long, and (like most lines in the States) is single. This fact is important, for our cousins, in boasting of the hundreds or thousands of miles of railway they have constructed, forget to tell us that they are nearly all single. Here and there they have a double set of rails, like our sidings, to enable trains to pass each other.

The ground was covered with snow, otherwise the scenery would have been magnificent. For a long time the Potomac was our companion. More than once we had to cross the stream on wooden bridges; so that we had it sometimes on our right and sometimes on our left, ourselves being alternately in Virginia and in Maryland. When within 14 miles of Baltimore, and already benighted, we were told we could not proceed, on account of some accident to a luggage-tram that was coming up. The engine, or (as the Americans invariably say) the "locomotive," had got off the rail, and torn up the ground in a frightful manner; but no one was hurt. We were detained for 7 hours; and instead of getting into Baltimore at 8 P.M., making an average of about 15 miles an hour, which was the utmost we had been led to expect, we did not get there till 3 A.M., bringing our average rate per hour down to about 9-1/2 miles. The tediousness of the delay was considerably relieved by a man sitting beside me avowing himself a thorough Abolitionist, and a hearty friend of the coloured race. He spoke out his sentiments openly and fearlessly, and was quite a match for any one that dared to assail him. His name was Daniel Carmichael, of Brooklyn. He is a great railway and canal contractor, and has generally in his employ from 500 to 800 people. He is also a very zealous "teetotaler." We had also a Mrs. Malaprop, from Baltimore, with us, who told us, among other marvellous things, that in that city they took the senses (census) of the people every month. She was very anxious to let all around her know that her husband was a medical man: she therefore wondered what "the Doctor" was then doing, what "the Doctor" thought of the non-arrival of the train, whether "the Doctor" would be waiting for her at the station, and whether "the Doctor" would bring his own carriage, or hire one, to meet her, &c.

March 14.—The day on which we arrived at Baltimore was the Sabbath. In a public room in the National Hotel, at which we were stopping, was hung up a nicely-framed announcement of the order of services in one of the Presbyterian Churches. We wished, however, to find a Congregational place of worship, and set off with that view. It was a beautiful day, and Baltimore seemed to send forth its inhabitants by streets-full to the various churches. In the Old World I never saw anything like it, nor elsewhere in the New, except perhaps at Boston. All secular engagements seemed to be entirely suspended, and the whole city seemed to enjoy a Sabbath! As we walked along, I asked a young man if he could direct me to a Congregational church. He stared at me for a moment, and then said, "Do you mean a church with pews in it?" I asked another, "Can you tell me where I shall find a Congregational church in this city?"—"What congregation do you mean, sir?" was the reply. They evidently knew nothing at all about Congregationalism. The fact was, as I afterwards understood, we had not yet come into its latitude; for in America Presbyterianism and Congregationalism have hitherto been matters of latitude and longitude rather than of earnest conviction and firm adherence. We now inquired for a Presbyterian church, and were told that there was one not far from where we then stood, in which Mr. Plummer—a very popular minister just come into the city—preached. Following the directions given, we came to a certain church, in front of which two or three grave men stood talking to each other. In answer to the question, "What church is this?" one of these grave men said, with a good broad Scotch accent, "It's a Presbyterian church." The accent gave a double confirmation to the answer. "Is it Mr. Plummer's church?" I continued. With the same accent, and in a tone of gentle rebuke, I was told, "Yes, it is Doctor Plummer's." We entered. The congregation were assembling. We were left either to stand in the aisle or to take a seat as we pleased. We preferred the latter. The building was new, but built in the old Gothic style. The pews, the pulpit, the front of the gallery, the organ, and the framework of the roof, which was all exposed, were of oak, which had been made to resemble in colour wood that has stood the test of 400 or 500 years. The windows also were darkened. The whole affair was tremendously heavy, enough to mesmerize any one. The congregation was large, respectable, and decorous. After a few glances around, to see if there was a negro pew anywhere, I observed several coloured faces peeping from a recess in the gallery, on the left side of the organ,—there was the "Negro Pew," In due time Doctor Plummer ascended the pulpit. He was a fine tall man, grey-haired, well dressed, with commanding aspect and a powerful voice. I ceased to wonder at the emphasis with which the Scotchman called him Doctor Plummer. He was quite the ideal of a Doctor. His text was John iii. 18: "He that believeth on Him is not condemned, but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God." His subject was, that "man is justly accountable to God for his belief." This truth he handled in a masterly manner, tossing about as with a giant's arm Lord Brougham and the Universalists. Notwithstanding my want of rest on the previous night, the absurd heaviness of the building, and the fact that the sermon—which occupied a full hour—was all read, I listened with almost breathless attention, and was sorry when he had done.