Wright. The life of his first wife was sacrificed to this heartless and
unmanly feeling. He was travelling with her by steam-boat between New
York and Boston. They had to be out all night, and a bitter cold
winter's night it was. Being coloured people, their only accommodation
was the "hurricane-deck." Mrs. Wright was delicate. Her husband offered
to pay any money, if they would only let her be in the kitchen or the
pantry. No,--she was a "nigger," and could not be admitted. Mr. Wright
wrapped her in his own cloak, and placed her against the chimney to try
to obtain for her a little warmth. But she took a severe cold, and soon
died. _His_ colour, it would seem, hastened his own exit to rejoin her
in that world where such absurd and inhuman distinctions are unknown.
Dr. Patton's oration is now ended. But--did you ever hear such a thing
at a funeral?--that minister in the table pew is actually giving out--
"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!"
and they sing it to a funeral tune!
We start for the place of burial. But it is a long way off, and I had
better spare you the journey. The great men fell off one after another;
but my pall-bearing office compelled me to remain to the last.
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