Thus
prejudice scourges us from the table; it scourges us from the cabin,
from the stage-coach, from the bed. Wherever we go, it has for us
bolts, bars, and rods."
And now let us attend the speaker's funeral. Professor Whipple will be
our guide. As we proceed, crowds of coloured people are hastening in
the same direction from all quarters. We are at the house. But so great
is the throng that it is impossible to get in. Here, however, comes Dr.
Cox. "Make room for Dr. Cox!"--"Make room for Dr. Cox!" is now heard on
every hand. A path is opened for the great man, and we little men slip
in at his skirt. On reaching the room where the remains of the good man
lie, we find Dr. Patton and the Rev. Mr. Hatfield. They and Dr. Cox are
there in a semi-official capacity, as representing the Presbytery with
which Mr. Wright was connected. Louis Tappan, the long-tried and
faithful friend of the coloured race, is there also. I am asked to be a
pall-bearer: without at all reflecting on the duties and inconveniences
of the office, I good-naturedly consent. A _white_ cotton scarf is
instantly thrown over my shoulder.
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