ng to sit here to listen to this abolition nonsense any longer." And
so ended my Sabbath in New York.

LETTER XXIX.

The Rev. Theodore Sedgwick Wright--His Testimony against Caste--His
Funeral--Drs. Cox and Patton--The Service in the House--The
Procession--The Church--The Funeral Oration--Mrs. Wright.

During my stay at this time in New York, there died in that city the
Rev. Theodore Sedgwick Wright, a Presbyterian minister of colour. His
attainments and talents were very respectable; and for fifteen years he
had been the successful pastor of a church of coloured people in the
city.

Before you accompany me to his funeral, listen to his voice. Though
"dead, he yet speaketh." He had felt this cruel prejudice against the
colour of his skin as iron entering his soul. Here is his touching
testimony on the subject, delivered in a speech at Boston eleven years
before his death:--

"No man can really understand this prejudice, unless he feels it
crushing him to the dust, because it is a matter of feeling. It has
bolts, scourges, and bars, wherever the coloured man goes. It has bolts
in all the schools and colleges. The coloured parent, with the same
soul as a white parent, sends his child to the seats of learning; and
he finds the door bolted, and he sits down to weep beside his boy.
Prejudice stands at the door, and bars him out. Does the child of the
coloured man show a talent for mechanics, the heart of the parent beats
with hope. He sees the children of the white man engaged in employment;
and he trusts that there is a door open to his boy, to get an honest
living, and become a useful member of society. But, when he comes to
the workshop with his child, he finds a bolt there. But, even suppose
that he can get this first bolt removed, he finds other bars. He can't
work. Let him be ever so skilled in mechanics, up starts prejudice, and
says, 'I won't work in the shop if you do.' Here he is scourged by
prejudice, and has to go back, and sink down to some of the employments
which white men leave for the most degraded. He hears of the death of a
child from home, and he goes in a stage or a steam-boat. His money is
received, but he is scourged there by prejudice. If he is sick, he can
have no bed, he is driven on deck: money will not buy for him the
comforts it gets for all who have not his complexion. He turns to some
friend among the white men. Perhaps that white man had sat at his table
at home, but he does not