s improve as we approach
New England, and are much better even there than they were a few years
ago.

But here comes the captain muffled up. He brings with him a poor
sickly-looking woman, begs the ladies' pardon, and bids her sit down by
the stove and warm herself. He then tells the passengers her painful
story. The night before, in New York, this woman came on board, from
one of the Philadelphia boats, bringing with her a bed and a child. On
being spoken to by the captain, she informed him that she was on her
way from St. Louis to her home in Massachusetts,--that she had been
fifteen days upon the journey, and had two children with her. On being
asked where the other was, she replied, "There it is," pointing to the
bed, where, clad in its usual dress, the little sufferer, released from
the trials of life, lay extended in death. It had caught cold, and died
in her arms in New York. She was friendless and penniless, and wanted a
passage to New Haven. The captain had obtained a coroner's inquest over
the body, purchased for it a little coffin, had it decently laid out,
and gratified her maternal feelings by allowing her to bring it with
her, that it might be buried in her village-home in Massachusetts. All
this he had done without money and without price, had also given her a
free passage to New Haven, and was about to forward her home by railway
at his own expense! Captain _Stone_--"what's in a name?"--at the close
of this statement had to take out his pocket-handkerchief, and wipe
away a few manly tears from his weather-beaten cheeks, as he added, "I
have met in my life with many cases of distress, but with none that
came so much to my heart as this." His object, in introducing the woman
and her case, was to make an appeal to the passengers on her behalf. He
did so; and the result was a subscription amounting to about five
pounds sterling, which was handed over to her. Captain Stone's was a
deed worthy of a golden inscription!

It is half-past 11 A.M., and we are now at the landing-place in the
harbour of New Haven, having accomplished the distance from New York,
about 80 miles, in five hours! We have a long wharf of 3,943 feet to
travel; and then we set foot for the first time on the soil of New
England. We have been invited to make our abode here with the Rev.
Leicester Sawyer, who makes his abode at Deacon Wilcoxon's, corner of
Sherman-avenue and Park-street. Thither, therefore, let us go. Mr.
Sawyer, whom we had