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

I. What honours are ascribed to the Father.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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