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

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

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

LETTER XXXIV.

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

On Sabbath morning the 11th of April I preached for the Rev. Mr. Blagden, in the Old South Church.  This is a large old-fashioned square building, having two galleries, one above the other, on three of its sides.  It is rich in historical recollections.  Here Whitfield preached.  Here patriotic meetings were held even before Faneuil Hall was built; and here the British troops were quartered at the time of the Revolutionary War.  Here, too, the lamp of truth was kept feebly burning when all around had sunk into darkness and heresy.  At the commencement of this century, the ministry in all the other Congregational