On April 3d we arrived at New Orleans at nine A. M., in time to attend a colored Sunday-school. At its close I gave them a little talk. From thence we were piloted to the Bethel Methodist Church (colored) and found a quarterly meeting being held. Here we listened to a very interesting and intelligent discourse by Rev. William Dove. I made a few remarks on the comparison of present times with the former. At the close of the service many came forward to shake hands and tell us of the time when ministers and people were hauled out of this church of their own building and taken to jail. The free people were compelled to pay twenty-five dollars' fine, and slaves were punished with twenty-five lashes on the bare back, well laid on. This persecution the authorities deemed necessary in order to keep these poor people from rising in insurrection. They locked up their churches two years and a half, until the Union soldiers unlocked them. Though the authorities forbade their meeting at all, they often stole away two and three miles and held little meetings in deep ravines and in clumps of bushes and trees, to hide from their cruel pursuers; but they could not even there long escape their vigilant enemies. "_Insurrection_! INSURRECTION!" was constantly inflaming the guilty multitude. Imprisoning, putting into stocks, and all sorts of punishments seemed to be the order of the day. A few months after the closing of their church the spotted fever broke out, slaying its thousands. An old pious colored woman said to one who was losing all his family, and called upon her to assist them: "Now, who is plotting insurrection? Who you gwine to take to jail now? Who you gwine to whip an' hang now? You can't take God out to jail." They heard that their enemies had concluded to stop their praying, for it was thought to be through the prayers of the colored people that all this trouble was sent upon them; for the plague was almost entirely confined to the white people. This class of accusers became even more bitter than before. No one can look at this volume of history without calling to mind the hardness of heart of the ancient Egyptians. CHAPTER XII. MISSION WORK IN NEW ORLEANS. At New Orleans, where we arrived April 6, 1864, our home was a very pleasant one. Beneath the windows of our room was a grove of fig-trees. We had the kindest of friends.