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 took us to call upon her; and we were greatly pleased with our brief visit. At 2 P.M. we left with regret this delightful little city, and shall always cherish a grateful remembrance of the Christian kindness and hospitality with which we were treated. In all the States we met with nothing to be compared, in all that was pleasing, to the two cities of Connecticut--New Haven and Hartford. In passing, on our way to Boston, through Worcester in Massachusetts, I cast a hurried glance at every place that looked like a smithy, wondering whether it was there that Elihu Burritt had wielded his forge-hammer and scattered his "sparks from the anvil." We reached Boston at 9 P.M., and stopped at the United States Hotel. The next day I called to deliver notes of introduction to several of the Boston divines. Among them was one to the Rev. Seth Bliss, at the Tract Depository. Having glanced at the note, he very hurriedly said to me, "Ah, how do you do?--very glad to see you!--where are you stopping at?"--"At the United States Hotel, sir." "Oh," he replied all in a breath, "you had better come to my house,--it'll be cheaper for you,--they'll charge you 2 dollars a day at the United States Hotel,--I only charge a dollar and a half,--I have a room at liberty now. Besides, if you want to get acquainted with ministers, you can't do better than come to my house. In fact, the wags call my house the 'Saints' Rest,'--because, I suppose, they see I sell the book here." The conjuncture of "Bliss" and "Saints' Rest!" Who could refuse? We went. But I will not tell how far the accommodation tended to realize our conceptions of those beatitudes. On the morrow we went to see Faneuil Hall, the "Cradle of Liberty." A notice was up at the door to say the key was to be found at such a store in the neighbourhood. I asked for the key; had it without a single question being put; went, opened the door myself, and staid as long as we pleased. There was no hanger-on, to try to squeeze a fee out of us, as would have been the case in a country I know.