On our return to the city at evening, we were invited to attend a grand soiree, got up in honor of the Bishop’s first visit to that place.  Several families of colored people combined to provide the splendid entertainment, while one lady presided at the board.  She was very beautiful and very dark; but a complete model of grace and elegance, conversing with perfect ease and intelligence with all, both black and white ministers, who surrounded the festive board, as well as our Irish friends, not a few of whom were present.  One honest son of the Emerald Isle entered, and not understanding the matter, inquired of his brother “Pat,” in rather a loud whisper, “What’s all them nagurs setting to that table for?” He, however, soon satisfied himself, and all passed off quietly and in excellent order.  At a late hour the company, after a benediction, withdrew and dispersed.

We left Hamilton the following morning, feeling grateful and pleased with our meeting and visit.

It was a beautiful morning; the lake was still, no sound was heard but the rushing waves, as our boat moved on through its placid waters, toward our destination, then called Fort George, now Niagara, where we took stage for the Falls.

At that place of resort, we stopped to view the stupendous work of Almighty God, and listen to the ceaseless thundering of the cataract.  How tame appear the works of art, and how insignificant the bearing of proud, puny man, compared with the awful grandeur of that natural curiosity.  Yet there, the rich from all parts of the world, do congregate!  There you will find the idle, swaggering slaveholder, blustering about in lordly style; boasting of his wealth; betting and gambling; ready to fight, if his slightest wish is not granted, and lavishing his cash on all who have the least claim upon him.  Ah, well can he afford to be liberal,—­well can he afford to spend thousands yearly at our Northern watering places; he has plenty of human chattels at home, toiling year after year for his benefit.  The little hoe-cake he gives them, takes but a mill of the wealth with which they fill his purse; and should his extravagance lighten it somewhat, he has only to order his brutal overseer to sell—­soul and body —­some poor creature; perchance a husband, or a wife, or a child, and forward to him the proceeds of the sale.  While the wretched slave marches South with a gang, under the lash, he lavishes his funds in extravagant living,—­funds gathered from the tears and blood of a helpless human being.  Have you, dear reader, ever watched the slaveholder at such places as I have, gliding through the shady groves, or riding in his splendid carriage, dressed in the richest attire, and with no wish ungratified that gold can purchase; and have you ever been guilty of envying him, or of wishing yourself in his condition?  If so, think of the curse which rests on him who grinds the face of the poor.  Think of his doom in the day of final retribution, when he shall receive at the bar