that he appeared in the pulpit with such dignity and independence as if
"while engaged in his Master's work he could put a king in his pocket."
Here is his tomb, dated 1647. Two eventful centuries have rolled away,
during which this church has had only nine pastors; all of whom, except
the last, Dr. Hawes, who still survives, died in their charge, and were
interred in this place. Interments here are no longer continued; but an
old bachelor, of independent means, a descendant of the Pilgrims,
spends nearly the whole of his time "among the tombs" of the fathers
and prophets, and, _con amore_, keeps the ground and the graves in the
most beautiful order.

Our host Mr. Hosmer took us to see the new burying-ground outside of
the city. Here the Catholics and the coloured people had each a parcel
of ground allotted for themselves,--the former because they _would_
not, and the latter because they _should_ not, mingle their dust with
that of other people!

On our way back I said to my friend, "How was it that neither Mr.
Pennington nor any of his people (coloured congregation) were at the
meeting last night? I should have thought they would have come to hear
about their own brethren in Guiana." "Why," he replied, "the fact was I
did not send a notice to them on Sunday: I knew that in the 'Fourth'
Church they would have been scattered all over the place; it would have
been so unpleasant, and talked of for months." Here then was a man of a
large heart, a friend of missions and of all that is good, one who
seemed as if he could embrace the whole world in his sympathies, under
the dominion of a prejudice you would have expected him to scorn!

At Hartford lives Mrs. Sigourney, the graceful American poetess. She is
a pious member of one of the Congregational Churches. Mr. Hosmer kindly