t, this holy sacrament celebrated in the
spirit of its great Founder.

There were only about a half dozen colored members attached to the Elm
Street church, at this time. After the congregation was dismissed,
these descended from the gallery, and took a seat against the wall most
distant from the altar. Brother Bonney was very animated, and sung very
sweetly, "Salvation 'tis a joyful sound," and soon began to administer
the sacrament. I was anxious to observe the bearing of the colored
members, and the result was most humiliating. During the whole ceremony,
they looked like sheep without a shepherd. The white members went
forward to the altar by the bench full; and when it was evident that
all the whites had been served with the bread and wine, Brother
Bonney--pious Brother Bonney--after a long pause, as if inquiring
whether all the whites members had been served, and fully assuring
himself on that important point, then raised his voice to an unnatural
pitch, and looking to the corner where his black sheep seemed penned,
beckoned with his hand, exclaiming, "Come forward, colored friends! come
forward! You, too, have an interest in the blood of Christ. God is no
respecter of persons. Come forward, and take this holy sacrament
to your{275} comfort." The colored members poor, slavish souls went
forward, as invited. I went out, and have never been in that church
since, although I honestly went there with a view to joining that body.
I found it impossible to respect the religious profession of any who
were under the dominion of this wicked prejudice, and I could not,
therefore, feel that in joining them, I was joining a Christian church,
at all. I tried other churches in New Bedford, with the same result, and
finally, I attached myself to a small body of colored Methodists, known
as the Zion Methodists. Favored with the affection and confidence of the
members of this humble communion, I was soon made a classleader and a
local preacher among them. Many seasons of peace and joy I experienced
among them, the remembrance of which is still precious, although I could
not see it to be my duty to remain with that body, when I found that it
consented to the same spirit which held my brethren in chains.

In four or five months after reaching New Bedford, there came a young
man to me, with a copy of the _Liberator_, the paper edited by WILLIAM
LLOYD GARRISON, and published by ISAAC KNAPP, and asked me to subscribe
for it. I told him I