A Peep at the House of Representatives in Albany—"The Chair is but a Man," &c.—Sailing down the Hudson—Dr. Spring—His Morning Sermon—Afternoon Service—Gough the great Lecturer—The Tract House and Steam-presses—May-day in New York—Staten Island—Immigrants—A hurried Glance.

On the 22nd we left Utica at 11 A.M., and reached Albany at 5 P.M. At Schenectady Mr. Delevan got into the same carriage with us; and we had his company to Albany. He had caused to be put into the hand of every passenger by that train a tract on the claims of the Sabbath, a large number of which he had printed at his own expense. He spends an immense fortune in doing good, chiefly by means of the press.

In the evening I strolled out to see a little of Albany, the capital of the State of New York. I gazed with interest on Dr. Sprague's Church, and wandered until I came to a large building brilliantly lighted. It was the State House or Capitol. The legislature was then in session. I marched on, and got in without the least hinderance. There was no crowd and no stir about the doors. A simple rail divided the part allotted to the spectators from that which was used by the members. About a hundred of the latter were present. The Senate, whose hall was in another part of the same building, had been adjourned till next day. This was the House of Representatives; and they seemed to be in the midst of a very angry discussion. Their cheeks swelled with rage, or with—quids of tobacco. A spittoon, constantly used, was placed by the side of each member. They were rebelling against the speaker; and, of all mortals, I never saw one in a more unenviable position than he. All that his little hammer, his tongue, and his hands could do was of no avail. The storm raged. The words "honourable member," "unparliamentary," "order," "chair," and "in-quiry," were bandied about in all directions. One of the "honourable members," rushing out past me, said with a loud voice, "I'll go and get a segar," &c. At last the speaker—poor fellow!—in tones of humiliation and despair said, "The chair is but a man; and, if we err, we are ready to acknowledge our error."

The next day we left by the steam-boat "Roger Williams," and sailed down the majestic Hudson to New York, a distance of 145 miles; fare one dollar each. This river has so often been described by travellers that I need not repeat the attempt.

The following day was Saturday. In the afternoon I met Dr. Spring at the Tract House. After the usual salutation, he said, "Shall we hear your voice at our place to-morrow afternoon?"—"I have no objection, sir,—what time does your service commence?" "At 4 o'clock."—"Very well." "Where shall I find you?"—"Where will you be?" "I shall be in the pulpit five minutes before the time."—"Oh! very well, very well."

In the morning I went to hear the Doctor. His introductory prayer was long. In it he prayed for Mexico—that it might have a "free and religious government," and that the present war might result in the overthrow there of the "man of sin;" but no reference to American slavery. The Doctor, bear in mind, is an Old School Presbyterian, and a supporter of the Colonization Society. His text was John v. 23: "That all men should honour the Son, even as they honour the Father," &c. His divisions were—

I. What honours are ascribed to the Father.

1. Appropriate names and titles. Jehovah, &c.

2. Ascription of most glorious attributes. Eternal—Immutable —Omnipotent, &c.

3. Great and glorious works. Creation—Preservation—Redemption —Atonement—Regeneration—Justification—Raising the dead—Judging the world—Destroying it—Glory of the righteous—Punishment of the wicked. (All these were supported by appropriate quotations of Scripture.)

4. Duties enjoined in reference to Him. Confidence—Worship, &c.

II. That the same honours are ascribed to the Son. (He went over each of the above particulars, showing from Scripture their application to the Son.)

III. That, therefore, the Son is properly and truly God.

1. We cannot believe the Scriptures would ascribe the same honours to Him as to the Father, if He were not equal to the Father.

2. If He be not truly God, the Scriptures tempt to idolatry.

3. If He be not truly God, the accounts which the Scriptures give of Him are self-contradictory.

4. If He be not truly God, there is no evidence from Scripture that there is a God at all.

This was a massive and compact argument for the Divinity of Christ. It occupied upwards of an hour in the delivery, and was read.

In the afternoon I took care to be in the pulpit five minutes before the time. The Doctor shortly after came, and took his seat behind me. This to me is always an annoyance,—I would almost as soon have a man with me in bed as in the pulpit;—and in this instance it was peculiarly so, as towards the close, although I had not exceeded forty minutes, I felt quite persuaded that the Doctor was pulling at my coat-tail, which led me rather abruptly to conclude. In this, however, I was mistaken; and the Doctor assured me it was what he had never done in his life, except in one instance,—and that was when the preacher, having occupied two hours with his sermon, was entering upon a third.

In the evening of the 27th of April I heard, at the Tabernacle, New York, the celebrated Gough deliver a lecture on Temperance. It was to commence at 8 o'clock; but we had to be there an hour before the time, in order to get a comfortable place. That hour was a dreary one. The scraping of throats and the spitting were horrible. It seemed as if some hundreds of guttural organs were uttering the awfully guttural sentence, "Hwch goch dorchog a chwech o berchill cochion."

At last Gough made his appearance on the platform. He is a slender young man of three or four and twenty. He told us he had spoken every night except three for the last thirty nights, and was then very weary, but thought "what a privilege it is to live and labour in the present day." He related his own past experience of delirium tremens,—how an iron rod in his hand became a snake,—how a many-bladed knife pierced his flesh,—how a great face on the wall grinned at and threatened him; "and yet," he added, "I knew it was a delusion!"

A temperance man, pointing to Gough, had once observed to another, "What a miserable-looking fellow that is!" "But," replied the other, "you would not say so, if you saw how he keeps everybody in a roar of laughter at the public-house till 1 or 2 in the morning." "But I was miserable," said Gough; "I knew that the parties who courted and flattered me really despised me." He told us some humorous tales,—how he used to mortify some of them by claiming acquaintance with them in the street, and in the presence of their respectable friends. He returned scorn for scorn. "Gough," said a man once to him, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself to be always drinking in this manner." "Do I drink at your expense?"—"No." "Do I owe you anything?"—"No." "Do I ever ask you to treat me?"—"No." "Then mind your own business," &c. He introduced this to show that that mode of dealing with the drunkard was not likely to answer the purpose.

"Six years ago," said he, "a man on the borders of Connecticut, sat night after night on a stool in a low tavern to scrape an old fiddle. Had you seen him, with his old hat drawn over his eyebrows, his swollen lips, and his silly grin, you would have thought him adapted for nothing else. But he signed the pledge, and in two years became a United States senator, and thrilled the House with his eloquence."

In one place, after Gough had delivered a lecture, some ladies gathered around him, and one of them said, "I wish you would ask Joe to 'sign the pledge,"—referring to a wretched-looking young man that was sauntering near the door. Gough went up to him, spoke kindly to him, and got him to sign: the ladies were delighted, and heartily shook hands with Joe. A year after Gough met Joe quite a dandy, walking arm-in-arm with a fine young lady. "Well, Joe, did you stick to the pledge?" said Gough to him. "Yes," said Joe with an exulting smile, "and the lady has stuck to me."

For more than an hour Gough kept the vast audience enchained by his varied and charming talk.

On the 29th I went over the Tract House in New York, and was delighted to see there six steam-presses,—four of which were then at work, pouring forth in rapid succession sheet after sheet impressed with that kind of literature which in my judgment is admirably adapted to meet the wants of this growing country. They were then printing on an average 27,000 publications, including nearly 2,400 of each kind, per diem! and employing sixty women in folding and stitching. During the last year they printed 713,000 volumes, and 8,299,000 smaller publications, making a total of 217,499,000 pages, or 58,154,661 pages more than in any previous year! Of the volumes issued, I may mention 14,000 sets of four volumes of D'AubignÉ's History of the Reformation, 17,000 of Bunyan's Pilgrim, 10,000 of Baxter's Saints' Rest, 9,000 of Doddridge's Rise and Progress, 7,000 of Pike's Persuasives, 13,000 of Alleine's Alarm, and 41,000 of Baxter's Call! The two Secretaries, whose business it is to superintend the publishing department and matters relating to the raising of funds, the Rev. Wm. A. Hallock and the Rev. O. Eastman, are enterprising and plodding men. They told me they were brought up together in the same neighbourhood, and had both worked at the plough till they were 20 years of age!

The 1st of May is the great moving day in New York. Throughout the city one house seems to empty itself into another. Were it to the next door, it might be done with no great inconvenience; but it is not so. Try to walk along the causeway, and you are continually blocked up with tables, chairs, and chests of drawers. Get into an omnibus, and you are beset with fenders, pokers, pans, Dutch ovens, baskets, brushes, &c. Hire a cart, and they charge you double fare.

One day at the water-side, happening to see the steamer for Staten Island about to move off, we stepped on board, and in less than half an hour found ourselves there. The distance is 6 miles, and the island is 18 miles long, 7 miles wide, and 300 feet high. Here are a large hospital for mariners and the quarantine burying-ground. It is also studded with several genteel residences. In 1657 the Indians sold it to the Dutch for 10 shirts, 30 pairs of stockings, 10 guns, 30 bars of lead, 30 lbs. of powder, 12 coats, 2 pieces of duffil, 30 kettles, 30 hatchets, 20 hoes, and one case of knives and awls.

Several emigrant vessels were then in the bay. On our return, we saw with painful interest many of them setting their foot for the first time on the shore of the New World. They were then arriving in New York, chiefly from the United Kingdom, at the rate of one thousand a day. The sight affected me even to tears. It was like a vision of the British Empire crumbling to pieces, and the materials taken to build a new and hostile dominion.

I should draw too largely upon your patience, were I to describe many objects of interest and many scenes of beauty I witnessed in New York and the neighbourhood. The Common Schools; the Croton Waterworks, capable of yielding an adequate supply for a million-and-a-half of people; Hoboken, with its sibyl's cave and elysian fields; the spot on which General Hamilton fell in a duel; the Battery and Castle Garden—a covered amphitheatre capable of accommodating 10,000 people; the Park, and the City Hall with its white marble front; Trinity Church; and its wealthy Corporation; Long Island, or Brooklyn, with its delightful cemetery, &c., &c. Suffice it to say that New York has a population of about 400,000; and that it has for that population, without an Established Church, 215 places of worship. Brooklyn has also a population of 60,000, and 30 places of worship.