and comfortable. But the American hotels are not, in point of comfort, to be compared for a moment to those of Old England. My wife was too tired to go out in the evening; and unwilling for my own part to close the Sabbath without going to some place of public worship, I thought I would try to find the sanctuary of "my brethren--my kinsmen according to the flesh"--the Welsh. Following the directions I had received, I arrived at the top of a certain street, when I heard the sound of sacred song; but I could not tell whether it was Welsh or not, nor exactly whence it came. As I stood listening, an overgrown boy came by, of whom I inquired, "Where does that singing come from?"--"I _guess_ it comes from a church down below there." "Is it a Welsh Church?"--"I can't tell, but I _guess_ it is." "Well, then," I rejoined, "I _guess_ I will go and see." I turned, and the youth "guessed" he would follow me. I got to the door. The singing had not ceased. It _was_ Welsh--the language in which I had first heard "_Am Geidwad i'r Colledig!_"[1] How interesting in the "Far West" to hear sounds so sweet and so familiar to my childhood! None but those who have experienced can tell the charm of such an incident. The minister was in the pulpit. His dress and hair were very plain, and his complexion was extremely dark. He was evidently a Welshman: there was no mistake about it: his gravity, plainness, attitude--all told the fact. I ventured forward, and walked along to the stove, which to me was an object of agreeable attraction. Around the stove were two or three chairs. A big aristocratic-looking Welshman, a sort of a "Blaenor," who occupied one of these chairs, invited me to take another that was vacant. The eyes of all in the synagogue were upon me. My "guessing" informant had followed me even there, though he evidently understood not a word of Welsh. The building was about 40 feet by 35, without galleries, and was about two-thirds full. The pulpit was fitted up in the platform style--the "genuine" American mode. The text was, "How shall we escape, if we neglect so great a salvation?" The sermon was good and faithful. The audience--the men on one side of the chapel, and the women on the other--did not excite much interest. The men, especially, were among the worst hearers I had ever seen. I felt ashamed of my countrymen. The spitting was incessant, and attended with certain unmentionable circumstances which render it most disgusting and offensive. What a contrast to my own clean and comely congregation of black and coloured people in New Amsterdam! In about twenty minutes after the preacher had begun his sermon, one-half of the men had their heads down, resting on both arms folded on the tops of the pews before them. Whether they were asleep or not, the attitude was that of deep sleep. This behaviour was grossly rude,--to say nothing of the apathetic state of mind which it indicated. I wondered how the preacher could get on at all, with such hearers before him.