"as one having authority," and placed himself in a front pew on the
right-hand side of the pulpit. Two black women shortly followed, taking
their seats in the same region. Others succeeded, till ultimately there
were from forty to fifty of the sable race in that part of the gallery.
Not one white was to be seen among the blacks, nor one black among the
whites. There, then, was the "Negro Pew!" It was the first time even my
West India eyes ever beheld a distinction of colour maintained in the
house of God!

At eleven o'clock precisely, a man of tall but stooping figure and dark
complexion, about forty years of age, muffled up in a cloak, took his
stand at the bottom of the pulpit or platform stairs. It was Dr. S----.
He appeared to beckon to some one in the congregation. A tall, lank old
gentleman, with a black cravat, and shirt-collar turned over it _à
l'Américain_, stepped forward, and, ascending the steps before the
Doctor, occupied one of the two chairs with which the rostrum was
furnished, the Doctor taking the other. I supposed him to be one of the
elders, going to give out the hymns, or to assist in the devotional
exercises. At this moment the organ--a fine-toned instrument--struck
up, and the choir sang some piece--known, I presume, only to
themselves, for no others joined in it. This prelude I have since found
is universal in America. In all places of worship provided with an
organ, a "voluntary" on that instrument is the first exercise. In the
present instance the choir had no sooner ceased than the Doctor stood
up, having his cloak still resting upon his shoulders, and stretched
forth his right hand. At this signal all the people stood up, and he
offered a short prayer. "Where is Abel, thy brother?" thought I, during
this address to the Father of the spirits of all flesh. He then read
the 23rd and 24th Psalms. "Where is Abel, thy brother?" was still
ringing in my ears. The 33rd Psalm was then sung. "Where is Abel, thy