The conduct of this base hypocrite proved that the warning presentiment against him had not been without foundation. Grieved and indignant at the wrong he had done to a helpless and unoffending fellow-creature, Friend Hopper wrote to him as follows: "Yesterday, I visited the poor old man in prison, whom thou hast so perfidiously betrayed. Gloomy and hopeless as his case is, I would prefer it to thine. Thou hast received fifty dollars as the reward of thy treachery; but what good can it do thee? Canst thou lay down thy head at night, without feeling the sharp goadings of a guilty conscience? Canst thou ask forgiveness of thy sins of our Heavenly Father, whom thou hast so grievously insulted by thy hypocrisy? Judas betrayed his master for thirty pieces of silver, and afterward hung himself. Thou hast betrayed thy brother for fifty; and if thy conscience is not seared, as with hot iron, thy compunction must be great. I feel no disposition to upbraid thee. I have no doubt thy own heart does that sufficiently; for our beneficent Creator will not suffer any to be at ease in their sins. Thy friend, I.T.H."

The worthy old Quaker in New-Jersey was not aware of his son's villainous conduct until some time after. When the circumstances were made known to the family they were exceedingly mortified and afflicted.

Friend Hopper used to tell another story, which forms a beautiful contrast to the foregoing painful narrative. I repeat it, because it illustrates the tenderness of spirit, which has so peculiarly characterized the Society of Friends, and because I hope it may fall like dew on hearts parched by vindictive feelings. Charles Carey lived near Philadelphia, in a comfortable house with a few acres of pasture adjoining. A young horse, apparently healthy, though lean, was one day offered him in the market for fifty dollars. The cheapness tempted him to purchase; for he thought the clover of his pastures would soon put the animal in good condition, and enable him to sell him at an advanced price. He was too poor to command the required sum himself, but he borrowed it of a friend. The horse, being well fed and lightly worked, soon became a noble looking animal, and was taken to the city for sale. But scarcely had he entered the market, when a stranger stepped up and claimed him as his property, recently stolen. Charles Carey's son, who had charge of the animal, was taken before a magistrate. Isaac T. Hopper was sent for, and easily proved that the character of the young man and his father was above all suspicion. But the stranger produced satisfactory evidence that he was the rightful owner of the horse, which was accordingly delivered up to him. When Charles Carey heard the unwelcome news, he quietly remarked, "It is hard for me to lose the money; but I am glad the man has recovered his property."

About a year afterward, having occasion to go to a tavern in Philadelphia, he saw a man in the bar-room, whom he at once recognized as the person who had sold him the horse. He walked up to him, and inquired whether he remembered the transaction. Being answered in the affirmative, he said, "I am the man who bought that horse. Didst thou know he was stolen?" With a stupified manner and a faltering voice, the stranger answered, "Yes."

"Come along with me, then," said Charles; "and I will put thee where thou wilt not steal another horse very soon."

The thief resigned himself to his fate with a sort of hopeless indifference. But before they reached the magistrate's office, the voice within began to plead gently with the Quaker, and turned him from the sternness of his purpose. "I am a poor man," said he, "and thou hast greatly injured me. I cannot afford to lose fifty dollars; but to prosecute thee will not compensate me for the loss. Go thy way, and conduct thyself honestly in future."

The man seemed amazed. He stood for a moment, hesitating and confused; then walked slowly away. But after taking a few steps, he turned back and said, "Where can I find you, if I should ever be able to make restitution for the wrong I have done?"

Charles replied, "I trust thou dost not intend to jest with me, after all the trouble thou hast caused me?"

"No, indeed I do not," answered the stranger. "I hope to repay you, some time or other."

"Very well," rejoined the Friend, "if thou ever hast anything for me, thou canst leave it with Isaac T. Hopper, at the corner of Walnut and Dock-streets." Thus they parted, and never met again.

About a year after, Friend Hopper found a letter on his desk, addressed to Charles Carey. When it was delivered to him, he was surprised to find that it came from the man who had stolen the horse, and contained twenty dollars. A few months later, another letter containing the same sum, was left in the same way. Not long after, a third letter arrived, enclosing twenty dollars; the whole forming a sum sufficient to repay both principal and interest of the money which the kind-hearted Quaker had lost by his dishonesty.

This last letter stated that the writer had no thoughts of stealing the horse ten minutes before he did it. After he had sold him, he was so haunted by remorse and fear of detection, that life became a burthen to him, and he cared not what became of him. But when he was arrested, and so unexpectedly set at liberty, the crushing weight was taken from him. He felt inspired by fresh courage, and sustained by the hope of making some atonement for what he had done. He made strenuous efforts to improve his condition, and succeeded. He was then teaching school, was assessor of the township where he resided, and no one suspected that he had ever committed a dishonest action.

The good man, to whom this epistle was addressed, read it with moistened eyes, and felt that the reward of righteousness is peace.

For many years after Isaac T. Hopper joined the Society of Friends, a spirit of peace and of kindly communion prevailed among them. No sect has ever arisen which so nearly approached the character of primitive christianity, in all relations with each other and with their fellow men. But as soon as the early christians were relieved from persecution, they began to persecute each other; and so it was with the Quakers. Having become established and respected by the world, the humble and self-denying spirit which at the outset renounced and contended with the world gradually departed. Many of them were rich, and not unfrequently their fortunes were acquired by trading with slave-holders. Such men were well satisfied to have the testimonies of their spiritual forefathers against slavery read over among themselves, at stated seasons; but they felt little sympathy with those of their cotemporaries, who considered it a duty to remonstrate publicly and freely with all who were connected with the iniquitous system.

A strong and earnest preacher, by the name of Elias Hicks, made himself more offensive than others in this respect. He appears to have been a very just and conscientious man, with great reverence for God, and exceedingly little for human authority. Everywhere, in public and in private, he lifted up his voice against the sin of slavery. He would eat no sugar that was made by slaves, and wear no garment which he supposed to have been produced by unpaid labor. In a remarkable manner, he showed this "ruling passion strong in death." A few hours before he departed from this world, his friends, seeing him shiver, placed a comfortable over him. He felt of it with his feeble hands, and made a strong effort to push it away. When they again drew it up over his shoulders, he manifested the same symptoms of abhorrence. One of them, who began to conjecture the cause, inquired, "Dost thou dislike it because it is made of cotton?" He was too far gone to speak, but he moved his head in token of assent. When they removed the article of slave produce, and substituted a woolen blanket, he remained quiet, and passed away in peace.

He was accustomed to say, "It takes live fish to swim up stream;" and unquestionably he and his friend Isaac T. Hopper were both very much alive. The quiet boldness of this man was altogether unmanageable. In Virginia or Carolina, he preached more earnestly and directly against slavery, than he did in New-York or Pennsylvania; for the simple reason that it seemed to be more needed there. Upon one of these occasions, a slaveholder who went to hear him from curiosity, left the meeting in great wrath, swearing he would blow out that fellow's brains if he ventured near his plantation. When the preacher heard of this threat, he put on his hat and proceeded straightway to the forbidden place. In answer to his inquiries, a slave informed him that his master was then at dinner, but would see him in a short time. He seated himself and waited patiently until the planter entered the room. With a calm and dignified manner, he thus addressed him: "I understand thou hast threatened to blow out the brains of Elias Hicks, if he comes upon thy plantation. I am Elias Hicks."

The Virginian acknowledged that he did make such a threat, and said he considered it perfectly justifiable to do such a deed, when a man came to preach rebellion to his slaves.

"I came to preach the Gospel, which inculcates forgiveness of injuries upon slaves as well as upon other men," replied the Quaker. "But tell me, if thou canst, how this Gospel can be truly preached, without showing the slaves that they are injured, and thus making a man of thy sentiments feel as if they were encouraged in rebellion."

This led to a long argument, maintained in the most friendly spirit. At parting, the slaveholder shook hands with the preacher, and invited him to come again. His visits were renewed, and six months after, the Virginian emancipated all his slaves.

When preaching in the free states, he earnestly called upon all to abstain from slave-produce, and thus in a measure wash their own hands from participation in a system of abominable wickedness and cruelty. His zeal on this subject annoyed some of his brethren, but they could not make him amenable to discipline for it; for these views were in accordance with the earliest and strongest testimonies of the Society of Friends; moreover, it would have been discreditable to acknowledge such a ground of offence. But the secret dissatisfaction showed itself in a disposition to find fault with him. Charges were brought against his doctrines. He was accused of denying the authority of Scripture, and the divinity of Christ.

It was a departure from the original basis of the Society to assume any standard whatsoever concerning creeds. It is true that the early Quakers wrote volumes of controversy against many of the prevailing opinions of their day; such as the doctrine of predestination, and of salvation depending upon faith, rather than upon works. All the customary external observances, such as holy days, baptism, and the Lord's Supper, they considered as belonging to a less spiritual age, and that the time had come for them to be done away. Concerning the Trinity, there appears to have been difference of opinion among them from the earliest time. When George Fox expressed a fear that William Penn had gone too far in defending "the true unity of God," Penn replied that he had never heard any one speak more plainly concerning the manhood of Christ, than George Fox himself. Penn was imprisoned in the Tower for "rejecting the mystery of the Trinity," in a book called "The Sandy Foundation Shaken." He afterward wrote "Innocency with her Open Face," regarded by some as a compromise, which procured his release. But though various popular doctrines naturally came in their way, and challenged discussion, while they were endeavoring to introduce a new order of things, the characteristic feature of their movement was attention to practical righteousness rather than theological tenets. They did not require their members to profess faith in any creed. They had but one single bond of union; and that was the belief that every man ought to be guided in his actions, and in the interpretation of Scripture, by the light within his own soul. Their history shows that they mainly used this light to guide them in the application of moral principles. Upon the priesthood, in every form, they made unsparing warfare; believing that the gifts of the Spirit ought never to be paid with money. They appointed committees to visit the sick, the afflicted, and the destitute, and to superintend marriages and funerals. The farmer, the shoemaker, the physician, or the merchant, followed his vocation diligently, and whenever the Spirit moved him to exhort his brethren, he did so. The "First, and Fifth Day" of the week, called by other denominations Sunday and Thursday, were set apart by them for religious meetings. Women were placed on an equality with men, by being admitted to this free Gospel ministry, and appointed on committees with men, to regulate the affairs of the Society. They abjured war under all circumstances, and suffered great persecution rather than pay military taxes. They early discouraged the distillation or use of spirituous liquors, and disowned any of their members who distilled them from grain. Protests against slavery were among their most earnest testimonies, and it was early made a rule of discipline that no member of the Society should hold slaves. When the Quakers first arose, it was a custom in England, as it still is on the continent of Europe, to say thou to an inferior, or equal, and you to a superior. They saw in this custom an infringement of the great law of human brotherhood; and because they would "call no man master," they said thou to every person, without distinction of rank. To the conservatives of their day, this spiritual democracy seemed like deliberate contempt of authority; and as such, deserving of severe punishment. More strenuously than all other things, they denied the right of any set of men to prescribe a creed for others. The only authority they recognized was "the light within;" and for freedom to follow this, they were always ready to suffer or to die.

On all these subjects, there could be no doubt that Elias Hicks was a Quaker of the old genuine stamp. But he differed from many others in some of his theological views. He considered Christ as "the only Son of the most high God;" but he denied that "the outward person," which suffered on Calvary was properly the Son of God. He attached less importance to miracles, than did many of his brethren. He said he had learned more of his own soul, and had clearer revelations of God and duty, while following his plough, than from all the books he had ever read. He reverenced the Bible as a record of divine power and goodness, but did not consider a knowledge of it essential to salvation; for he supposed that a Hindoo or an African, who never heard of the Scriptures, or of Christ, might become truly a child of God, if he humbly and sincerely followed the divine light within, given to every human soul, according to the measure of its faithfulness.

Many of his brethren, whose views assimilated more with orthodox opinions, accused him of having departed from the principles of early Friends. But his predecessors had been guided only by the light within; and he followed the same guide, without deciding beforehand precisely how far it might lead him. This principle, if sincerely adopted and consistently applied, would obviously lead to large and liberal results, sufficient for the progressive growth of all coming ages. It was so generally admitted to be the one definite bond of union among early Friends, that the right of Elias Hicks to utter his own convictions, whether they were in accordance with others or not, would probably never have been questioned, if some influential members of the Society had not assumed more power than was delegated to them; thereby constituting themselves a kind of ecclesiastical tribunal. It is the nature of such authority to seek enlargement of its boundaries, by encroaching more and more on individual freedom.

The friends of Elias Hicks did not adopt his views or the views of any other man as a standard of opinion. On the subject of the Trinity, for instance, there were various shadings of opinion among them. The probability seems to be that the influence of Unitarian sects, and of Orthodox sects had, in the course of years, gradually glided in among the Quakers, and more or less fashioned their theological opinions, though themselves were unconscious of it; as we all are of the surrounding air we are constantly inhaling.

But it was not the Unitarianism of Elias Hicks that his adherents fought for, or considered it necessary to adopt. They simply contended for his right to express his own convictions, and denied the authority of any man, or body of men, to judge his preaching by the assumed standard of any creed. Therefore, the real ground of the struggle seems to have been resistance to ecclesiastical power; though theological opinions unavoidably became intertwisted with it. It was a new form of the old battle, perpetually renewed ever since the world began, between authority and individual freedom.

The agitation, which had for some time been heaving under the surface, is said to have been brought into open manifestation by a sermon which Elias Hicks preached against the use of slave produce, in 1819. A bitter warfare followed. Those who refused to denounce his opinions were accused of being infidels and separatists; and they called their accusers bigoted and intolerant. With regard to disputed doctrines, both claimed to find sufficient authority in the writings of early Friends; and each side charged the other with mutilating and misrepresenting those writings. As usual in theological controversies, the skein became more and more entangled, till there was no way left but to cut it in two. In 1827 and 1828, a separation took place in the Yearly Meetings of Philadelphia, New-York, and several other places. Thenceforth, the members were divided into two distinct sects. In some places the friends of Elias Hicks were far the more numerous. In others, his opponents had a majority. Each party claimed to be the genuine Society of Friends, and denied the other's right to retain the title. The opponents of Elias Hicks called themselves "Orthodox Friends," and named his adherents "Hicksites." The latter repudiated the title, because they did not acknowledge him as their standard of belief, though they loved and reverenced his character, and stood by him as the representative of liberty of conscience. They called themselves "Friends," and the others "the Orthodox."

The question which was the genuine Society of Friends was more important than it would seem to a mere looker on; for large pecuniary interests were involved therein. It is well known that Quakers form a sort of commonwealth by themselves, within the civil commonwealth by which they are governed. They pay the public school-tax, and in addition build their own school-houses, and employ teachers of their own Society. They support their own poor, while they pay the same pauper tax as other citizens. They have burying grounds apart from others, because they have conscientious scruples concerning monuments and epitaphs. Of course, the question which of the two contending parties was the true Society of Friends involved the question who owned the meeting-houses, the burying grounds, and the school funds. The friends of Elias Hicks offered to divide the property, according to the relative numbers of each party; but those called Orthodox refused to accept the proposition. Lawsuits were brought in various parts of the country. What a bitter state of animosity existed may be conjectured from the fact that the "Orthodox" in Philadelphia refused to allow "Hicksites" to bury their dead in the ground belonging to the undivided Society of Friends. On the occasion of funerals, they refused to deliver up the key; and after their opponents had remonstrated in vain, they forced the lock.

I believe in almost every instance, where the "Hicksites" were a majority, and thus had a claim to the larger share of property, they offered to divide in proportion to the relative numbers of the two parties. After the separation in New-York, they renewed this offer, which had once been rejected; and the "Orthodox" finally agreed to accept a stipulated sum for their interest in the property. The Friends called "Hicksites" numbered in the whole more than seventy thousand.

Quakers in England generally took part against Elias Hicks and his friends. Some, who were styled "The Evangelical Party," went much beyond their brethren in conformity with the prevailing denominations of Christians called Orthodox. Many of them considered a knowledge of the letter of Scripture essential to salvation; and some even approved of baptism by water; a singular departure from the total abrogation of external rites, which characterized Quakerism from the beginning. William and Mary Howitt, the well known and highly popular English writers, were born members of this religious Society. In an article concerning the Hicksite controversy, written for the London Christian Advocate, the former says: "My opinion is, that Friends will see cause to repent the excision of that great portion of their own body, on the plea of heretical opinions. By sanctioning it, they are bound, if they act impartially and consistently, to expel others also for heterodox opinions. This comes of violating the sacred liberty of conscience; of allowing ourselves to be infected with the leaven of a blind zeal, instead of the broad philanthropy of Christ. Is there no better alternative? Yes. To adopt the principle of William Penn; to allow freedom of opinion; and while we permit the Evangelical party to hold their favorite notions, so long as they consent to conform to our system of public worship, to confess that we have acted harshly to the Hicksites, and open our arms to all who are sincere in their faith, and orderly in their conduct."

As the adherents of Elias Hicks at that time represented freedom of conscience, of course Isaac T. Hopper belonged to that party, and advocated it with characteristic zeal. In fact, he seems to have been the Napoleon of the battle. It was not in his nature intentionally to misrepresent any man; and even when the controversy was raging most furiously, I believe there never was a time when he would not willingly have acknowledged a mistake the moment he perceived it. But his temperament was such, that wherever he deemed a principle of truth, justice, or freedom was at stake, he could never quit an adversary till he had demolished him completely, and convinced him that he was demolished; though he often felt great personal kindness toward the individual thus prostrated, and was always willing to render him any friendly service. He used to say that his resistance in this controversy was principally roused by the disposition which he saw manifested "to crush worthy, innocent Friends, for mere difference of opinion;" and no one, who knew him well, could doubt that on this subject, as on others, he was impelled by a sincere love of truth and justice. But neither he nor any other person ever entered the lists of theological controversy without paying dearly for the encounter. Perpetual strife grieved and disturbed his own spirit, while his energy, perseverance, and bluntness of speech, gained him many enemies. Wherever this unfortunate sectarian schism was introduced, it divided families, and burst asunder the bonds of friendship. For a long time, they seemed to be a Society of Enemies, instead of a Society of Friends. In this respect, no one suffered more acutely than Isaac T. Hopper. It was his nature to form very strong friendships; and at this painful juncture, many whom he had long loved and trusted, parted from him. Among them was his cousin Joseph Whitall, who had embraced Quakerism at the same period of life, who had been the friend of his boyhood, and the cherished companion of later years. They had no personal altercation, but their intimacy gradually cooled off, and they became as strangers.

He had encountered other difficulties also, at a former period of his life, the shadows of which still lay across his path. About twelve or fifteen years after his marriage, his health began to fail. His vigorous frame pined away to a mere shadow, and he was supposed to be in a consumption. At the same time, he found himself involved in pecuniary difficulties, the burden of which weighed very heavily upon him, for many reasons. His strong sense of justice made it painful for him to owe debts he could not pay. He had an exceeding love of imparting to others, and these pecuniary impediments tied down his large soul with a thousand lilliputian cords. He had an honest pride of independence, which chafed under any obligation that could be avoided. His strong attachment to the Society of Friends rendered him sensitive to their opinion; and at that period their rules were exceedingly strict concerning any of their members, who contracted debts they were unable to pay. People are always ready to censure a man who is unprosperous in worldly affairs; and if his character is such as to render him prominent, he is all the more likely to be handled harshly. Of these trials Friend Hopper had a large share, and they disturbed him exceedingly; but the consciousness of upright intentions kept him from sinking under the weight that pressed upon him.

He was always a very industrious man, and whatever he did was well done. But the fact was, the claims upon his time and attention were too numerous to be met by any one mortal man. He had a large family to support, and during many years his house was a home for poor Quakers, and others, from far and near. He had much business to transact in the Society of Friends, of which he was then an influential and highly respected member. He was one of the founders and secretary of a society for the employment of the poor; overseer of the Benezet school for colored children; teacher, without recompense, in a free school for colored adults; inspector of the prison, without a salary; member of a fire-company; guardian of abused apprentices; the lawyer and protector of slaves and colored people, upon all occasions. When pestilence was raging, he was devoted to the sick. The poor were continually calling upon him to plead with importunate landlords and creditors. He was not unfrequently employed to settle estates involved in difficulties, which others were afraid to undertake. He had occasional applications to exert influence over the insane, for which he had peculiar tact. When he heard of a man beginning to form habits likely to prove injurious to himself or his family, he would go to him, whether his rank were high or low, and have private conversations with him. He would tell him some story, or suppose some case, and finally make him feel, "Thou art the man." He had a great gift in that way, and the exertion of it sometimes seasonably recalled those who were sliding into dangerous paths.

When one reflects upon the time that must have been bestowed on all these avocations, do his pecuniary embarrassments require any further explanation? A member of his own Society summed up the case very justly in few words. Hearing him censured by certain individuals, she replied, "The whole amount of it is this:—the Bible requires us to love our neighbor as well as ourselves; and Friend Isaac has loved them better."

These straitened circumstances continued during the remainder of his residence in Philadelphia; and his family stood by him nobly through the trial. Household expenses were reduced within the smallest possible limits. His wife opened a tea-store, as an available means of increasing their income. The simple dignity of her manners, and her pleasing way of talking, attracted many ladies, even among the fashionable, who liked to chat with the handsome Quaker matron, while they were purchasing household stores. The elder daughters taught school, and took upon themselves double duty in the charge of a large family of younger children. How much they loved and honored their father, was indicated by their zealous efforts to assist and sustain him. I have heard him tell, with much emotion, how one of them slipped some of her earnings into his pocket, while he slept in his arm-chair. She was anxious to save him from the pain of being unable to meet necessary expenses, and at the same time to keep him ignorant of the source whence relief came.

His spirit of independence never bent under the pressure of misfortune. He was willing to deprive himself of everything, except the simplest necessaries of life; but he struggled manfully against incurring obligations. There was a Quaker fund for the gratuitous education of children; but when he was urged to avail himself of it, he declined, because he thought such funds ought to be reserved for those whose necessities were greater than his own.

The government added its exactions to other pecuniary annoyances; but it had no power to warp the inflexibility of his principles. He had always refused to pay the militia tax, because, in common with all conscientious Quakers, he considered it wrong to do anything for the support of war. It seems no more than just that a sect, who pay a double school-tax, and a double pauper-tax, and who almost never occasion the state any expense by their crimes, should be excused for believing themselves bound to obey the injunction of Jesus, to return good for evil; but politicians have decided that practical Christianity is not always consistent with the duty of citizens. Accordingly, when Friend Hopper refused to pay for guns and swords, to shoot and stab his fellow men, they seized his goods to pay the tax. The articles chosen were often of much greater value than their demand, and were sacrificed by a hurried and careless sale. His wife had received a handsome outfit from her father, at the time of her marriage; but she was destined to see one article of furniture after another seized to pay the military fines, which were alike abhorrent to her heart and her conscience. Among these articles, was a looking glass, of an unusually large and clear plate, which was valuable as property, and dear to her as a bridal gift from her parents. She could not see it carried off by the officer, to meet the expenses of military reviews, without a sigh—perhaps a tear. But she was not a woman ever to imply a wish to have her husband compromise his principles.

Thus bearing up bravely against the pelting storms of life, he went on, hand in hand with his beloved Sarah. But at last, he was called to part with the steady friend and pleasant companion of his brightest and his darkest hours. She passed from him into the spiritual world on the eighteenth of the Sixth Month, (June,) 1822, in the forty-seventh year of her age. She suffered much from the wasting pains of severe dyspepsia; but religious hope and faith enabled her to endure all her trials with resignation, and to view the approach of death with cheerful serenity of soul. Toward the close of her life, the freshness of her complexion was injured by continual suffering; but though pale, she remained a handsome woman to the last. During her long illness, she received innumerable marks of respect and affection from friends and neighbors; for she was beloved by all who knew her. A short time before her death, she offered the following prayer for the dear ones she was so soon to leave; "O Lord, permit me to ask thy blessing for this family. Thy favor is better than all the world can give. For want of keeping close to thy counsel, my soul has often been pierced with sorrow. Pity my weakness. Look thou from heaven, and forgive. Enable me, I beseech thee, to renew my covenant, and so to live under the influence of thy Holy Spirit, as to keep it. Preserve me in the hour of temptation. Thou alone knowest how prone I am to err on the right side and on the left. Bless the children! O Lord, visit and re-visit their tender minds. Lead them in the paths of uprightness, for thy name's sake. I ask not riches nor honor for them; but an inheritance in thy ever-blessed truth." She left nine children, the youngest but six years old, to mourn the loss of a most tender careful and self-sacrificing mother.

While her bereaved husband was still under the shadow of this great grief, he was called to part with his son Isaac, who in little more than a year, followed his mother, at the early age of fifteen. He was a sedate gentle lad, and had always been a very pleasant child to his parents. His father cherished his memory with great tenderness, and seldom spoke of him without expressing his conviction that if he had lived he would have become a highly acceptable minister in the Society of Friends; a destiny which would have been more agreeable to his parental feelings, than having a son President of the United States.

Soon after this melancholy event, Friend Hopper went to Maryland, to visit two sisters who resided there. He was accompanied in this journey by his wife's brother, David Tatum. At an inn where they stopped for refreshment, the following characteristic incident occurred: A colored girl brought in a pitcher of water. "Art thou a slave?" said Friend Hopper. When she answered in the affirmative, he started up and exclaimed, "It is against my principles to be waited upon by a slave." His more timid brother-in-law inquired, in a low tone of voice, whether he were aware that the mistress was within hearing. "To be sure I am," answered Isaac aloud. "What would be the use of saying it, if she were not within hearing?" He then emptied the pitcher of water, and went out to the well to re-fill it for himself. Seeing the landlady stare at these proceedings, he explained to her that he thought it wrong to avail himself of unpaid labor. In reply, she complained of the ingratitude of slaves, and the hard condition of their masters. "It is very inconvenient to live so near a free state," said she. "I had sixteen slaves; but ten of them have run away, and I expect the rest will soon go."

"I hope they will," said Isaac. "I am sure I would run away, if I were a slave."

At first, she was disposed to be offended; but he reasoned the matter with her, in a quiet and friendly manner, and they parted on very civil terms. David Tatum often used to tell this anecdote, after they returned home; and he generally added, "I never again will travel in a Southern state with brother Isaac; for I am sure it would be at the risk of my life."

Time soothes all afflictions; and those who have dearly loved their first companion are sometimes more likely than others to form a second connexion; for the simple reason that they cannot learn to do without the happiness to which they have been accustomed. There was an intimate friend of the family, a member of the same religious Society, named Hannah Attmore. She was a gentle and quiet person, of an innocent and very pleasing countenance. Her father, a worthy and tender spirited man, had been an intimate friend of Isaac T. Hopper, and always sympathized with his efforts for the oppressed. A strong attachment had likewise existed between her and Friend Hopper's wife; and during her frequent visits to the house, it was her pleasure to volunteer assistance in the numerous household cares. The fact that his Sarah had great esteem for her, was doubtless a strong attraction to the widower. His suit was favorably received, and they were married on the fourth of the second month, (February) 1824. She was considerably younger than her bridegroom; but vigorous health and elastic spirits had preserved his youthful appearance, while her sober dress and grave deportment, made her seem older than she really was. She became the mother of four children, two of whom died in early childhood. Little Thomas, who ended his brief career in three years and a half, was always remembered by his parents, and other members of the family, as a remarkably bright, precocious child, beautiful as an infant angel.

It has been already stated that the schism in the Society of Friends introduced much controversy concerning the theological opinions of its founders. There was consequently an increased demand for their writings, and the branch called "Hicksites" felt the need of a bookstore. Friend Hopper's business had never been congenial to his character, and of late years it had become less profitable. A large number of his wealthiest customers were "Orthodox;" and when he took part with Elias Hicks, they ceased to patronize him. He was perfectly aware that such would be the result; but whenever it was necessary to choose between his principles and prosperity, he invariably followed what he believed to be the truth. He was considered a suitable person to superintend the proposed bookstore, and as the state of his financial affairs rendered a change desirable, he concluded to accede to the proposition of his friends. For that purpose, he removed to the city of New-York in 1829.

In the autumn of the following year, some disputed claims, which his wife had on the estate of her maternal grandfather in Ireland, made it necessary for him to visit that country. Experience had painfully convinced him that theological controversy sometimes leads to personal animosity; and that few people were so open and direct in their mode of expressing hostility, as he himself was. Therefore, before going abroad, he took the precaution to ask letters from citizens of various classes and sects in Philadelphia; and he found no difficulty in obtaining them from the most respectable and distinguished. Matthew Carey, the well known philanthropist wrote as follows: "As you are about to visit my native country, and have applied to me for a testimonial concerning your character, I cheerfully comply with your request. I have been well acquainted with you for about thirty-five years, and I can testify that, during the whole of that time, you have been a perfect pest to our Southern neighbors. A Southern gentleman could scarcely visit this city, without having his slave taken from him by your instrumentality; so that they dread you, as they do the devil." After enjoying a mutual laugh over this epistle, another was written for the public, certifying that he had known Isaac T. Hopper for many years as "a useful and respectable citizen of the fairest character."

When Friend Hopper arrived in Ireland, he found many of the Quakers prejudiced against him, and many untrue stories in circulation, as he had expected. Sometimes, when he visited public places, he would overhear people saying to each other, in a low voice, "That's Isaac T. Hopper, who has given Friends so much trouble in America." A private letter from an "Orthodox" Quaker in Philadelphia was copied and circulated in all directions, greatly to his disadvantage. It represented him as a man of sanctified appearance, but wholly unworthy of credit; that business of a pecuniary nature was a mere pretence to cover artful designs; his real object being to spread heretical doctrines in Ireland, and thus sow dissension among Friends. In his journal of this visit to a foreign land, Friend Hopper says: "It is astonishing what strange ideas some of them have concerning me. They have been informed that I can find stolen goods, and am often applied to on such occasions. I think it would be no hard matter to make them believe me a wizard." This was probably a serious version of his pleasantry with the Dutchman about finding his goods by calculating the age of the moon.

Many of the Irish Friends had formed from hearsay the most extravagant misconceptions concerning the Friends called "Hicksites." They supposed them to be outright infidels, and that the grossest immoralities were tolerated among them; that they pointed loaded pistols at the "Orthodox" brethren, and drove them out of their own meeting-houses by main force. One of them expressed great surprise when Friend Hopper informed him that they were in the constant habit of reading the Scriptures in their families, and maintained among themselves the same discipline that had always been used in the Society. Sometimes when he attended Quaker meetings during the early portion of his visit, the ministers preached at him, by cautioning young people to beware of the adversary, who was now going about like a cunning serpent, in which form he was far more dangerous, than when he assumed the appearance of a roaring lion. But after a while, this tendency was rebuked by other preachers, who inculcated forbearance in judging others; reminding their hearers that the spirit of the Gospel always breathed peace and good will toward men. As for Isaac himself, he behaved with characteristic openness. When a stranger, in Quaker costume, introduced himself, and invited him to go home and dine with him, he replied, "I am represented by some people as a very bad man; and I do not wish to impose myself upon the hospitality of strangers, without letting them know who I am."

The stranger assured him that he knew very well who he was, and cared not a straw what opinions they accused him of; that he was going to have a company of Friends at dinner, who wished to converse with him. He went accordingly, and was received with true Irish hospitality and kindness.

Upon another occasion, a Quaker lady, who did not know he was a "Hicksite," observed to him, "I suppose the Society of Friends are very much thinned in America, since so many have gone off from them." He replied, "It is always best to be candid. I belong to the party called Hicksites, deists, and schismatics; and I suppose they are the ones to whom thou hast alluded as having gone off from the Society. I should like to talk with thee concerning the separation in America; for we have been greatly misrepresented. But I came to this country solely on business, and I have no wish to say or do anything that can unsettle the mind, or wound the feelings of any Friend." She seemed very much surprised, and for a minute or two covered her face with her hands. But when the company broke up, some hours after, she followed him into the entry, and cordially invited him to visit her. "What! canst thou tolerate the company of a heretic?" he exclaimed. She replied with a smile, "Yes, such a one as thou art."

In fact, wherever he had a chance to make himself known, prejudices melted away under the influence of his frank and kindly manners. Some people of other sects, as well of his own, took an interest in him for the very reasons that caused distrust and dislike in others; viz: because they had heard of him as the champion of perfect liberty of conscience, who considered it unnecessary to bind men by any creed whatsoever. Among these, he mentions in his journal, Professor Stokes of Dublin, who relinquished a salary of two thousand eight hundred pounds a year, because he could not conscientiously subscribe to the doctrine of the Trinity. It was proposed to dismiss him from the college altogether; but he demanded a hearing before the trustees and students. This privilege could not be denied, without infringing the laws of the institution; and deeming that such a discussion might prove injurious, they concluded to retain him, on a salary of eight hundred pounds. Friend Hopper describes him thus: "He is an intelligent and liberal-minded man, and has a faculty of exposing the errors and absurdities of the Athanasian Creed to much purpose. He was of a good spirit, and I was much gratified with his company. He insisted upon accompanying me home in the evening, and though I remonstrated against it, on account of his advanced age, he attended me to the door of my lodgings."

During this visit to Ireland, Friend Hopper was treated with great hospitality and respect by many who were wealthy, and many who were not wealthy; by members of the Society of Friends, and of various other religious sects. He formed a high estimate of the Irish character, and to the day of his death, always spoke with warm affection of the friends he found there. In his journal, he often alludes with pleasure to the children he met with, in families where he visited; for he was always extremely partial to the young. Speaking of a visit to a gentleman in the environs of Dublin, by the name of Wilson, he says: "I rose early in the morning, and the eldest daughter, about ten or eleven years old, very politely invited me to walk with her. We rambled about in the pastures, and through beautiful groves of oak, beech and holly. The little creature tried her very best to amuse me. She told me about the birds and the hares, and other inhabitants of the woods. She inquired whether I did not want very much to see my wife and children; and exclaimed, 'How I should like to see you meet them! It would give you so much pleasure!'" He speaks of a little girl in another family, who seemed very much attracted toward him, and finally whispered to her father, "I want to go and speak to that Friend." She was introduced accordingly, and they had much pleasant chat together.

In one of the families where he visited, they told him an instructive story concerning a Quaker who resided in Dublin, by the name of Joseph Torrey. One day when he was passing through the streets, he saw a man leading a horse, which was evidently much diseased. His compassionate heart was pained by the sight, and he asked the man where he was going. He replied, "The horse has the staggers, and I am going to sell him to the carrion-butchers."

"Wilt thou sell him to me for a crown!" inquired Joseph. The man readily assented, and the poor animal was led to the stable of his new friend, where he was most kindly tended. Suitable remedies and careful treatment soon restored him to health and beauty. One day, when Friend Torrey was riding him in Phoenix Park, a gentleman looked very earnestly at the horse, and at last inquired whether his owner would be willing to sell him. "Perhaps I would," replied Joseph, "if I could get a very good master for him."

"He so strongly resembles a favorite horse I once had, that I should think he was the same, if I didn't know he was dead," rejoined the stranger.

"Did he die in thy stable?" inquired Joseph.

The gentleman replied, "No. He had the staggers very badly, and I sent him to the carrion-butchers."

"I should be sorry to sell an animal to any man, who would send him to the carrion-butchers because he was diseased," answered Joseph. "If thou wert ill, how wouldst thou like to have thy throat cut, instead of being kindly nursed?"

With some surprise, the gentleman inquired whether he intended to compare him to a horse. "No," replied Joseph; "but animals have feelings, as well as human beings; and when they are afflicted with disease, they ought to be carefully attended. If I consent to sell thee this horse, I shall exact a promise that thou wilt have him kindly nursed when he is sick, and not send him to have his throat cut."

The gentleman readily promised all that was required, and said he should consider himself very fortunate to obtain a horse that so much resembled his old favorite. When he called the next day, to complete the bargain, he inquired whether forty guineas would be a satisfactory price. The conscientious Quaker answered, "I have good reason to believe the horse was once thine; and I am willing to restore him to thee on the conditions I have mentioned. I have saved him from the carrion-butchers, but I will charge thee merely what I have expended for his food and medicine. Let it be a lesson to thee to treat animals kindly, when they are diseased. Never again send to the butchers a faithful servant, that cannot plead for himself, and may, with proper attention, again become useful to thee."

How little Friend Hopper was inclined to minister to aristocratic prejudices, may be inferred from the following anecdote. One day, while he was visiting a wealthy family in Dublin, a note was handed to him, inviting him to dine the next day. When he read it aloud, his host remarked, "Those people are very respectable, but not of the first circles. They belong to our church, but not exactly to our set. Their father was a mechanic."

"Well I am a mechanic myself," said Isaac. "Perhaps if thou hadst known that fact, thou wouldst not have invited me?"

"Is it possible," exclaimed his host, "that a man of your information and appearance can be a mechanic!"

"I followed the business of a tailor for many years," rejoined his guest. "Look at my hands! Dost thou not see marks of the shears? Some of the mayors of Philadelphia have been tailors. When I lived there, I often walked the streets with the Chief Justice. It never occurred to me that it was any honor, and I don't think it did to him."

Upon one occasion, Friend Hopper went into the Court of Chancery in Dublin, and kept his hat on, according to Quaker custom. While he was listening to the pleading, he noticed that a person who sat near the Chancellor fixed his eyes upon him with a very stern expression. This attracted the attention of lawyers and spectators, who also began to look at him, Presently an officer tapped him on the shoulder, and said, "Your hat, sir!"

"What's the matter with my hat?" he inquired.

"Take it off?" rejoined the officer. "You are in his Majesty Court of Chancery."

"That is an honor I reserve for his Majesty's Master," he replied. "Perhaps it is my shoes thou meanest?"

The officer seemed embarrassed, but said no more; and when the Friend had stayed as long as he felt inclined, he quietly withdrew.

One day, when he was walking with a lawyer in Dublin, they passed the Lord Lieutenant's castle. He expressed a wish to see the Council Chamber, but was informed that it was not open to strangers. "I have a mind to go and try," said he to his companion. "Wilt thou go with me?"

"No indeed," he replied; "and I would advise you not to go."

He marched in, however, with his broad beaver on, and found the Lord Lieutenant surrounded by a number of gentleman. "I am an American," said he. "I have heard a great deal about the Lord Lieutenant's castle, and if it will give no offence, I should like very much to see it."

His lordship seemed surprised by this unceremonious introduction, but he smiled, and said to a servant, "Show this American whatever he wishes to see."

He was conducted into various apartments, where he saw pictures, statues, ancient armor, antique coins, and many other curious articles. At parting, the master of the mansion was extremely polite, and gave him much interesting information on a variety of topics. When he rejoined his companion, who had agreed to wait for him at some appointed place, he was met with the inquiry, "Well, what luck?"

"O, the best luck in the world," he replied, "I was treated with great politeness."

"Well certainly, Mr. Hopper, you are an extraordinary man," responded the lawyer. "I wouldn't have ventured to try such an experiment."

At the expiration of four months, having completed the business which rendered his presence in Ireland necessary, he made a short visit to England, on his way home. There also his hat was objected to on several occasions. While in Bristol, he asked permission to look at the interior of the Cathedral. He had been walking about some little time, when a rough-looking man said to him, in a very surly tone, "Take off your hat, sir!"

He replied very courteously, "I have asked permission to enter here to gratify my curiosity as a stranger. I hope it is no offence."

"Take off your hat!" rejoined the rude man. "If you don't, I'll take it off for you."

Friend Hopper leaned on his cane, looked him full in the face, and answered very coolly, "If thou dost, I hope thou wilt send it to my lodgings; for I shall have need of it this afternoon. I lodge at No. 35, Lower Crescent, Clifton." The place designated was about a mile from the Cathedral. The man stared at him, as if puzzled to decide whether he were talking to an insane person, or not. When the imperturbable Quaker had seen all he cared to see, he deliberately walked away.

At Westminster Abbey he paid the customary fee of two shillings sixpence for admission. The door-keeper followed him, saying, "You must uncover yourself, sir."

"Uncover myself!" exclaimed the Friend, with an affectation of ignorant simplicity. "What dost thou mean? Must I take off my coat?"

"Your coat!" responded the man, smiling. "No indeed. I mean your hat."

"And what should I take off my hat for?" he inquired.

"Because you are in a church, sir," answered the door-keeper.

"I see no church here," rejoined the Quaker. "Perhaps thou meanest the house where the church assembles. I suppose thou art aware that it is the people, not the building, that constitutes a church?"

The idea seemed new to the man, but he merely repeated, "You must take off your hat, sir."

But the Friend again inquired, "What for? On account of these images? Thou knowest Scripture commands us not to worship graven images."

The man persisted in saying that no person could be permitted to pass through the church without uncovering his head. "Well friend," rejoined Isaac, "I have some conscientious scruples on that subject; so give me back my money, and I will go out."

The reverential habits of the door-keeper were not quite strong enough to compel him to that sacrifice; and he walked away, without saying anything more on the subject.

When Friend Hopper visited the House of Lords, he asked the sergeant-at-arms if he might sit upon the throne. He replied, "No, sir. No one but his majesty sits there."

"Wherein does his majesty differ from other men?" inquired he. "If his head were cut off, wouldn't he die?"

"Certainly he would," replied the officer.

"So would an American," rejoined Friend Hopper. As he spoke, he stepped up to the gilded railing that surrounded the throne, and tried to open the gate. The officer told him it was locked. "Well won't the same key that locked it unlock it?" inquired he. "Is this the key hanging here?"

Being informed that it was, he took it down and unlocked the gate. He removed the satin covering from the throne, carefully dusted the railing with his handkerchief, before he hung the satin over it, and then seated himself in the royal chair. "Well," said he, "do I look anything like his majesty?"

The man seemed embarrassed, but smiled as he answered, "Why, sir, you certainly fill the throne very respectably."

There were several noblemen in the room, who seemed to be extremely amused by these unusual proceedings.

At a place called Jordans, about twenty-two miles from London, he visited the grave of William Penn.

In his journal, he says: "The ground is surrounded by a neat hedge, and is kept in good order. I picked some grass and moss from the graves of William Penn, Thomas Ellwood, and Isaac Pennington; and some ivy and holly from the hedge; which I intend to take with me to America, as a memorial of my visit. I entered the meeting-house, and sat on the benches which had been occupied by George Fox, William Penn, and George Whitehead, in years long since passed away. It brought those old Friends so distinctly before the view of my mind, that my heart was ready to exclaim, 'Surely this is no other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.' I cannot describe my feelings. The manly and majestic features of George Fox, and the mournful yet benevolent countenance of Isaac Pennington, seemed to rise before me. But this is human weakness. Those men bore the burthen and heat of their own day; they faithfully used the talents committed to their trust; and I doubt not they are now reaping the reward given to faithful servants. It is permitted us to love their memories, but not to idolize them. They could deliver neither son or daughter by their righteousness; but only their own souls."

"In the great city of London everything tended to satisfy me that the state of our religious Society is generally very low. A light was once kindled there, that illuminated distant lands. As I walked the streets, I remembered the labors, the sufferings, and the final triumph of those illustrious sons of the morning, George Fox, George Whitehead, William Penn, and a host of others; men who loved not their lives in comparison with the holy cause of truth and righteousness, in which they were called to labor. These worthies have been succeeded by a generation, who seem disposed to garnish the sepulchres of their fathers, and live upon the fruit of their labors, without submitting to the power of that Cross, which made them what they were. There appears to me to be much formality and dryness among them; though there are a few who mourn, almost without hope, over the desolation that has been made by the world, the flesh, and the devil."

There were many poor emigrants on board the merchant ship, in which Friend Hopper returned home. He soon established friendly communication with them, and entered with sympathy into all their troubles. He made frequent visits to the steerage during the long voyage, and always had something comforting and cheering to say to the poor souls. There was a clergyman on board, who also wished to benefit them, but he approached them in an official way, to which they did not so readily respond. One day, when he invited the emigrants to join him in prayer, an old Irish woman replied, "I'd rather play a game o' cards, than hear you prache and pray." She pointed to Friend Hopper, and added, "He comes and stays among us, and always spakes a word o' comfort, and does us some good. But you come and prache and pray, and then you are gone. One look from that Quaker gintleman is worth all the praching and praying that be in you."

The vessel encountered a dense fog, and ran on a sand bank as they approached the Jersey shore. A tremendous sea was rolling, and dashed against the ship with such force, that she seemed every moment in danger of being shattered into fragments. If there had been a violent gale of wind, all must have been inevitably lost. The passengers were generally in a state of extreme terror. Screams and groans were heard in every direction. But Friend Hopper's mind was preserved in a state of great equanimity. He entreated the people to be quiet, and try to keep possession of their faculties, that they might be ready to do whatever was best, in case of emergency. Seeing him so calm, they gathered closely round him, as if they thought he had some power to save them. There was a naval officer on board, whose frenzied state of feeling vented itself in blasphemous language. Friend Hopper, who was always disturbed by irreverent use of the name of Deity, was peculiarly shocked by it under these solemn circumstances. He walked up to the officer, put his hand on his shoulder, and looking him in the face, said, "From what I have heard of thy military exploits, I supposed thou wert a brave man; but here thou art pouring forth blasphemies, to keep up the appearance of courage, while thy pale face and quivering lips show that thou art in mortal fear. I am ashamed of thee. If thou hast no reverence for Deity thyself, thou shouldst show some regard for the feelings of those who have." The officer ceased swearing, and treated his adviser with marked respect. A friendship was formed between them, which continued as long as the captain lived.

The clergyman on board afterward said to Friend Hopper, "If any other person had talked to him in that manner, he would have knocked him down."

In about two hours, the vessel floated off the sandbar and went safely into the harbor of New-York. At the custom-house, the clergyman was in some perplexity about a large quantity of books he had brought with him, on which it was proposed to charge high duties. "Perhaps I can get them through for thee," said Friend Hopper. "I will try." He went up to the officer, and said, "Isn't it a rule of the custom-house not to charge a man for the tools of his trade?" He replied that it was. "Then thou art bound to let this priest's books pass free," rejoined the Friend. "Preaching is the trade he gets his living by; and these books are the tools he must use." The clergyman being aware of Quaker views with regard to a paid ministry, seemed doubtful whether to be pleased or not, with such a mode of helping him out of difficulty. However, he took the joke as good naturedly as it was offered, and the books passed free, on the assurance that they were all for his own library.

Friend Hopper's bookstore in New-York was a place of great resort for members of his own sect. His animated style of conversation, his thousand and one anecdotes of runaway slaves, his descriptions of keen encounters with the "Orthodox," in the process of separation, attracted many listeners. His intelligence and well-known conscientiousness commanded respect, and he was held in high estimation by his own branch of the Society, though the opposite party naturally entertained a less favorable opinion of the "Hicksite" champion. Such a character as he was must necessarily always be a man of mark, with warm friends and bitter enemies.

His resemblance to Bonaparte attracted attention in New-York, as it had done in Philadelphia. Not long after he removed to that city, there was a dramatic representation at the Park Theatre, in which Placide personated the French Emperor. While this play was attracting public attention, the manager happened to meet Friend Hopper in the street. As soon as he saw him, he exclaimed, "Here is Napoleon himself come back again!" He remarked to some of his acquaintance that he would gladly give that Quaker gentleman one hundred dollars a night, if he would consent to appear on the stage in the costume of Bonaparte.

About this period northern hostility to slavery took a new form, more bold and uncompromising than the old Abolition Societies. It demanded the immediate and unconditional emancipation of every slave, in a voice which has not yet been silenced, and never will be, while the oppressive system continues to disgrace our country. Of course, Friend Hopper could not otherwise than sympathize with any movement for the abolition of slavery, based on pacific principles. Pictures and pamphlets, published by the Anti-Slavery Society were offered for sale in his book-store. During the popular excitement on this subject, in 1834, he was told that his store was about to be attacked by an infuriated rabble, and he had better remove all such publications from the window. "Dost thou think I am such a coward as to forsake my principles, or conceal them, at the bidding of a mob?" said he. Presently, another messenger came to announce that the mob were already in progress, at the distance of a few streets. He was earnestly advised at least to put up the shutters, that their attention might not be attracted by the pictures. "I shall do no such thing," he replied. The excited throng soon came pouring down the street, with loud and discordant yells. Friend Hopper walked out and stood on the steps. The mob stopped in front of his store. He looked calmly and firmly at them, and they looked irresolutely at him, like a wild animal spell-bound by the fixed gaze of a human eye. After a brief pause, they renewed their yells, and some of their leaders called out, "Go on, to Rose-street!" They obeyed these orders, and in the absent of Lewis Tappan, a well-known abolitionist, they burst open his house, and destroyed his furniture.

In 1835, Judge Chinn, of Mississippi, visited New-York, and brought with him a slave, said to have cost the large sum of fifteen hundred dollars. A few days after their arrival in the city, the slave eloped, and a reward of five hundred dollars was offered for his apprehension. Friend Hopper knew nothing about him; but some mischievous person wrote a note to Judge Chinn, stating that the fugitive was concealed at his store, in Pearl-street. A warrant was procured and put into the hands of a constable frequently employed in that base business. At that season of the year, many Southerners were in the city to purchase goods. A number of them accompanied the judge to Pearl-street, and distributed themselves at short distances, in order to arrest the slave, in case he attempted to escape. They preferred to search the store in the absence of Friend Hopper, and watched nearly an hour for a favorable opportunity. Meanwhile, he was entirely unconscious of their proceedings; and having occasion to call at a house a few doors below, he left the store for a short time in charge of one of his sons. As soon as he was gone, four or five men rushed in. Not finding the object of their pursuit, they jumped out of a back window, and began to search some buildings in the rear. When people complained of such unceremonious intrusion upon their premises, the constable excused himself by saying they were trying to apprehend a felon. Friend Hopper's son called out that it was a slave, not a felon, they were in search of; for he heard them say so. This made the constable very angry; for, like most slave-catchers, he was eager for the reward, but rather ashamed of the services by which he sought to obtain it. He swore roundly, and one of his party gave the young man a blow on his face.

Friend Hopper, being sent for, returned immediately; and for some time after, he observed a respectable looking person occasionally peeping into the store, and skulking out of sight as soon as he thought himself observed. At last, he went to the door, and said, "My friend, if thou hast business with me, come in and let me know what it is; but don't be prying about my premises in that way." He walked off, and joined a group of people, who seemed to be much excited. Friend Hopper followed, and found they were the men who had been recently searching his store. He said to their leader, "Art thou the impertinent fellow who has been intruding upon my premises, in my absence?" The constable replied that he had a warrant, and was determined to execute it. Though a stranger to his countenance, Friend Hopper was well aware that he was noted for hunting slaves, and being unable to disguise his abhorrence of the odious business, he said, "Judas betrayed his master for thirty pieces of silver; and for a like sum, I suppose thou wouldst seize thy brother by the throat, and send him into interminable bondage. If thy conscience were as susceptible of conviction as his was, thou wouldst do as he did; and thus rid the community of an intolerable nuisance."

One of the Southerners repeated the word "Brother!" in a very sneering tone.

"Yes," rejoined Friend Hopper, "I said brother."

He returned to his store, but was soon summoned into the street again, by a complaint that the constable and his troop of slaveholders were very roughly handling a colored man, saying he had no business to keep in their vicinity. When Friend Hopper interfered, to prevent further abuse, several of the Southerners pointed bowie-knives and pistols at him. He told the constable it was his duty, as a police-officer, to arrest those men for carrying deadly weapons and making such a turmoil in the street; and he threatened to complain of him if he did not do it. He complied very reluctantly, and of course the culprits escaped before they reached the police-office.

A few days after, as young Mr. Hopper was walking up Chatham-street, on his way home in the evening, some unknown person came behind him, knocked him down, and beat him in a most savage manner, so that he was unable to leave his room for many days. No doubt was entertained that this brutal attack was by one of the company who were on the search for Judge Chinn's slave.

It was afterward rumored that the fugitive had arrived safely in Canada. I never heard that he returned to the happy condition of slavery; though his master predicted that he would do so, and said he never would have been so foolish as to leave it, if it had not been for the false representations of abolitionists.

In 1836, the hatred which Southerners bore to Friend Hopper's name was manifested in a cruel and altogether unprovoked outrage on his son, which caused the young man a great deal of suffering, and well nigh cost him his life. John Hopper, Esq., now a lawyer in the city of New-York, had occasion to go to the South on business. He remained in Charleston about two months, during which time he was treated with courtesy in his business relations, and received many kind attentions in the intercourse of social life. One little incident that occurred during his visit illustrates the tenacious attachment of Friends to their own mode of worship. When he left home, his father had exhorted him to attend Friends' meeting while he was in Charleston. He told him that a meeting had been established there many years ago, but he supposed there were not half a dozen members remaining, and probably they had no ministry; for the original settlers had died, or left Carolina on account of their testimony against slavery. But as Quakers believe that silent worship is often more blessed to the soul, than the most eloquent preaching, he had a strong desire that his son should attend the meeting constantly, even if he found but two or three to unite with him. The young man promised that he would do so. Accordingly, when he arrived in Charleston, he inquired for the meeting-house, and was informed that it was well nigh deserted. On the first day of the week, he went to the place designated, and found a venerable, kind-looking Friend seated under the preachers' gallery. In obedience to a signal from him, he took a seat by his side, and they remained there in silence nearly two hours. Then the old man turned and shook hands with him, as an indication that the meeting was concluded, according to the custom of the Society of Friends. When he found that he was talking to the son of Isaac T. Hopper, and that he had promised to attend meeting there, during his stay in Charleston, he was so much affected, that his eyes filled with tears. "Oh, I shall be glad of thy company," said he; "for most of the time, this winter, I am here all alone. My old friends and companions have all died, or moved away. I come here twice on First days, and once on Fifth day, and sit all, all alone, till I feel it right to leave the house and go home."

This lonely old worshipper once had an intimate friend, who for a long time was his only companion in the silent meeting. At the close, they shook hands and walked off together, enjoying a kindly chat on their way home. Unfortunately, some difficulty afterward occurred between them, which completely estranged them from each other. Both still clung to their old place of worship. They took their accustomed seats, and remained silent for a couple of hours; but they parted without shaking hands, or speaking a single word. This alienation almost broke the old man's heart. After awhile, he lost even, this shadow of companionship, and there remained only "the voice within," and echoes of memory from the empty benches.

While Mr. Hopper remained in Charleston, he went to the Quaker meeting-house every Sunday, and rarely found any one there except the persevering old Friend, who often invited him to go home with him. He seemed to take great satisfaction in talking with him about his father, and listening to what he had heard him say concerning the Society of Friends. When the farewell hour came, he was much affected; for he felt it not likely they would ever meet again; and the conversation of the young stranger had formed a link between him and the Quakerism he loved so well. The old man continued to sit alone under the preacher's gallery till the house took fire and was burned to the ground. He died soon after that event, at a very advanced age.

Another incident, which occurred during Mr. Hopper's stay in Charleston, seemed exceedingly trivial at the time, but came very near producing fatal consequences. One day, when a clergyman whom he visited was showing him his library, he mentioned that his father had quite an antiquarian taste for old documents connected with the Society of Friends. At parting, the clergyman gave him several pamphlets for his father, and among them happened to be a tract published by Friends in Philadelphia, describing the colony at Sierra Leone, and giving an account of the slave trade on the coast of Africa. He put the pamphlets in his trunk, and started for Savannah, where he arrived on the twenty-eighth of January. At the City Hotel, he unfortunately encountered a marshal of the city of New-York, who was much employed in catching runaway slaves, and of course sympathized with slaveholders. He pointed the young stranger out, as a son of Isaac T. Hopper, the notorious abolitionist. This information kindled a flame immediately, and they began to discuss plans of vengeance. The traveller, not dreaming of danger, retired to his room soon after supper. In a few minutes, his door was forced open by a gang of intoxicated men, escorted by the New-York marshal. They assailed him with a volley of blasphemous language, struck him, kicked him, and spit in his face. They broke open and rifled his trunk, and searched his pockets for abolition documents. When they found the harmless little Quaker tract about the colony at Sierra Leone, they screamed with exultation. They shouted, "Here is what we wanted! Here is proof of abolitionism!" Some of them rushed out and told the mob, who crowded the bar-room and entries, that they had found a trunk full of abolition tracts. Others seized Mr. Hopper violently, telling him to say his last prayers, and go with them. The proprietor of the City Hotel was very naturally alarmed for the safety of the building. He was in a great passion, and conjured them to carry their victim down forthwith; saying he could do nothing with the mob below, who were getting very impatient waiting for him. Turning to Mr. Hopper, he said, "Young man, you are in a very unfortunate situation. You ought never to have left your home. But it is your own doing; and you deserve your fate." When appealed to for protection, he exclaimed, "Good God! you must not appeal to me. This is a damned delicate business. I shall not be able to protect my own property. But I will go for the mayor."

One of the bar-keeper's confidential friends sent him a slip of paper, on which was written, "His only mode of escape is by the window;" and the bar-keeper, who had previously shown himself decidedly unfriendly, urged him again and again to profit by this advice. He occupied the third story, and the street below his window was thronged with an infuriated mob, thirsting and clamoring for his blood. In view of these facts, it seems not very uncharitable to suppose that the advice was given to make sure of his death, apparently by his own act, and thus save the city of Savannah from the disgrace of the deed. Of the two terrible alternatives, he preferred going down-stairs into the midst of the angry mob, who were getting more and more maddened by liquor, having taken forcible possession of the bar. He considered his fate inevitable, and had made up his mind to die. But at the foot of the stairs, he was met by the mayor and several aldermen, whose timely arrival saved his life. After asking some questions, and receiving the assurance that he came to Savannah solely on commercial business, the magistrates accompanied Mr. Hopper to his room, and briefly examined his books and papers. The mayor then went down and addressed the mob, assuring them that he should be kept in custody during the night; that strict investigation should be made, and if there was the slightest evidence of his being an abolitionist, he should not be suffered to go at large. The mayor and a large body of civil officers accompanied the prisoner to the guard-house, and a number of citizens volunteered their services, to strengthen the escort; but all their efforts scarcely sufficed to keep him from the grasp of the infuriated multitude. He was placed in a noisome cell, to await his trial, and the customary guard was increased for his protection. Portions of the mob continued howling round the prison all night, and the mayor was sent for several times to prevent their bursting in. A gallows was erected, with a barrel of feathers and a tub of tar in readiness under it, that they might amuse themselves with their victim before they murdered him.

Next morning, at five o'clock, the prisoner was brought before the mayor for further examination. Many of the mob followed him to the door of the office to await the issue. The evidence was satisfactory that he belonged to no anti-slavery society, and that his business in Savannah had no connection whatever with that subject. As for the pamphlet about Sierra Leone, the mayor said he considered that evidence in his favor; because it was written in support of colonization. Before the examination closed, there came a driving rain, which dispersed the mob lying in wait round the building. Aided by this lucky storm their destined victim passed out without being observed. At parting, the mayor said to him, "Young man, you may consider it a miracle that you have escaped with your life."

He took refuge on board the ship Angelique, bound for New-York, and was received with much kindness and sympathy by Captain Nichols, the commander. There was likewise a sailor on board, who happened to be one of the many that owed a debt of gratitude to Friend Hopper; and he swore he would shoot anybody that attempted to harm his son. In a short time, a messenger came from the mayor to announce that the populace had discovered where Mr. Hopper was secreted, and would probably attack the vessel. In this emergency, the captain behaved nobly toward his hunted fellow-citizen. He requested him to lie down flat in the bottom of a boat, which he himself entered and conducted to a brig bound for Providence. The captain was a New-England man, but having been long engaged in Southern trade, his principles on the subject of slavery were adapted to his interest. He gave the persecuted young traveller a most ungracious reception, and said if he thought he was an abolitionist he would send him directly back to Savannah. However, the representations of Captain Nichols induced him to consent that he should be put on board. They had a tedious passage of thirty-five days, during which there was a long and violent storm, that seemed likely to wreck the vessel. The mob had robbed Mr. Hopper of his money and clothing. He had no comfortable garments to shield him from the severe cold, and his hands and feet were frozen. At last, he arrived at Providence, and went on board the steamer Benjamin Franklin, bound for New-York. There he had the good fortune to meet with a colored waiter, whose father had been redeemed from slavery by Friend Hopper's exertions. He was assiduously devoted to the son of his benefactor, and did everything in his power to alleviate his distressed condition.

When the traveller arrived at his home, he was so haggard and worn down with danger and fatigue, that his family scarcely recognized him. His father was much excited and deeply affected, when he heard what perils he had gone through merely on account of his name. He soon after addressed the following letter to the mayor of Savannah:

"New-York, 4th month, 18th, 1836.

"Friend,

"My object in addressing thee is to express my heartfelt gratitude for thy exertions in saving the life of my son, which I have cause to believe was in imminent peril, from the violence of unreasonable men, while in your city a few weeks ago. I am informed that very soon after his arrival in Savannah, the fact became known to a marshal of this city, who was then there, and who, by his misrepresentations, excited the rabble to a determination to perpetrate the most inhuman outrage upon him, and in all probability to take his life; and that preparations were made, which, if carried into effect, would doubtless have produced that result.

"Tar and feathers, as a mode of punishment, I am inclined to think is rather of modern invention; and I am doubtful whether they will be more efficient than whipping, cutting off ears, the rack, the halter, and the stake. Superstition and intolerance have long ago called in all these to their aid, in suppressing reformation in religion; but they were unable to accomplish the end designed; and if I am not greatly mistaken, they would prove entirely insufficient to stop the progress of emancipation.

"If it is the determination of the people of Savannah to deliver up to a lawless and blood-thirsty mob every person coming among them whose sentiments are opposed to slavery, I apprehend there are very few at the North who would not be obnoxious to their hostility. For I believe they all view slavery as an evil that must be abolished at no very distant day. Would it not be well for the people of the South to reflect upon the tendency of their conduct? Where such aggressions upon humanity are committed, the slaves will naturally inquire into the cause; and when they are informed that it is in consequence of their oppressed and degraded condition, and that the persons thus persecuted are charged with being their friends, they cannot feel indifferent. One such scene as was witnessed in the case of my son would tend more to excite a spirit of insurrection and insubordination among them, than ten thousand 'incendiary pamphlets,' not one word of which any of them could read. My son went to Savannah solely on his own private business, without any intention of interfering with the slaves, or with the subject of slavery in any way. But even supposing the charge to have been true, do not your laws award sufficient punishment? How could you stand silently by, and witness proceedings that would put to blush the Arab, or the untutored inhabitant of the wilderness in our own country? The negroes, whom you affect to despise so much, would set an example of benevolence and humanity, when on their own soil, if a stranger came among them, which you cannot be prepared to imitate, till you have made great improvements in civilization.

"The people of Savannah profess Christianity; but what avails profession, where latitude is given to the vilest and most depraved passions of the human heart? Suppose the mob had murdered my son; a young man who went among you in the ordinary course of his business, and who, even according to your understanding of the term, had done no evil; a young man of fair reputation, with numerous near relatives and friends to mourn over the barbarous deed; would you have been guiltless? I think the just witness in your consciences would answer No.

"I have long deplored the evils of slavery, and my sympathy has often been much excited for the master, as well as the slave. I am aware of the difficulties attending the system, and I should rejoice if I could aid in devising some mode of relief, that would satisfy the claims of justice and humanity, and at the same time be acceptable to the inhabitants of the South.

"It is certainly cause of deep regret that the Southern people suffer their angry passions to become so highly excited on this subject, which, of all others, ought to be calmly considered. For it remains a truth that 'the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God,' neither can it open his eyes to see in what his best interest consists. O, that your ears may be open to the voice of wisdom before it is too late! The language of an eminent statesman, who was a slaveholder, often occurs to me: 'I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just, and that his justice will not sleep forever.' Surely we have high authority for believing that 'For the crying of the poor, and the sighing of the needy, God will arise.' I hope I shall not be suspected of entertaining hostile or unkind feelings toward the people of the South, when I say that I believe slavery must and will be abolished. As sure as God is merciful and good, it is an evil that cannot endure forever.

"An inspired apostle says, that our gracious Creator 'hath made of one blood all nations of men;' and our Saviour gave this commandment: 'As ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.' If we believe these declarations, and I hope none doubt their authority, I should think reasoning unnecessary to convince us that to oppress and enslave our fellow men cannot be pleasing to Him, who is just and equal in all his ways.

"My concern for the welfare of my fellow men is not confined to color, or circumscribed by geographical lines. I can never see human suffering without feeling compassion, and I would always gladly alleviate it, if I had it in my power. I remember that we are all, without distinction of color or locality, children of the same Universal Parent, who delights to see the human family dwell together in peace and harmony. I am strongly inclined to the opinion that the proceedings of that portion of the inhabitants of the North who are called abolitionists, would not produce so much agitation and excitement at the South, if the people there felt entirely satisfied that slavery was justifiable in the sight of infinite purity and justice. An eminent minister of the Gospel, about the middle of the seventeenth century, often urged upon the attention of people this emphatic injunction: 'Mind the light!' 'All things that are reproved are made manifest by the light; for whatsoever doth make manifest is light.' Now, if this light, or spirit of truth, 'a manifestation of which is given to every man to profit withal,' should be found testifying in your consciences against injustice and oppression, regard its admonitions! It will let none remain at ease in their sins. It will justify for well doing; but to those who rebel against it, and disregard its reproofs, it will become the 'worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched.'

"I am aware that complaints are often made, because obstacles are thrown in the way of Southerners reclaiming their fugitive slaves. But bring the matter home to yourselves. Suppose a white man resided among you, who, for a series of years, had conducted with sobriety, industry, and probity, and had given frequent evidence of the kindness of his heart, by a disposition to oblige whenever opportunity offered; suppose he had a wife and children dependent upon him, and supported them comfortably and respectably; could you see that man dragged from his bed, and from the bosom of his family, in the dead time of night, manacled, and hurried away into a distant part of the country, where his family could never see him again, and where they knew he must linger out a miserable existence, more intolerable than death, amid the horrors of slavery? I ask whether you could witness all this, without the most poignant grief? This is no picture of the fancy. It is a sober reality. The only difference is, the men thus treated are black. But in my view, this does not diminish the horrors of such cruel deeds. Can it be expected then, that the citizens of this state, or indeed of any other, would witness all this, without instituting the severest scrutiny into the legality of the proceedings? More especially, when it is known that the persons employed in this nefarious business of hunting up fugitive slaves are men destitute of principle, whose hearts are callous as flint, and who would send a free man into bondage with as little compunction as they would a slave, if they could do it with impunity.

"Of latter time, we hear much said about a dissolution of the Union. Far better, in my view, that this should take place, if it can be effected without violence, than to remain as we are; when a peaceable citizen cannot enter your territory on his own lawful business, without the risk of being murdered by a ruthless mob.

"With reverent thankfulness to Him, who numbers the hairs of our heads, without whose notice not even a sparrow falls to the ground, and to whose providence I consider myself indebted for the redemption of my beloved son from the hands of barbarians, permit me again to say that I feel sincerely grateful to thee and others, who kindly lent aid, though late, in rescuing him from the violence of unreasonable and wicked men, who sought his life without a cause. I may never have it in my power to do either of you personally a kindness; but some other member of the great family of mankind may need assistance in a way that I can relieve him. If this should be the case, I hope I shall not fail to embrace the opportunity.

"With fervent desires that the beneficent Creator and Father of the Universe may open the eyes of all to see that 'the fast which he hath chosen is to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke.'

"I am thy sincere friend,

"ISAAC T. HOPPER."

Soon after the circumstances above related, the mayor of New-York revoked the warrant of the marshal, who had been so conspicuous in the outrage. This step was taken in consequence of his own admissions concerning his conduct.

In 1837, a little incident occurred, which may be interesting to those who are curious concerning phrenology. At a small social party in New-York, a discussion arose on that subject; and, as usual, some were disposed to believe and others to ridicule. At last the disputants proposed to test the question by careful experiment. Friend Hopper was one of the party, and they asked him to have his head examined by the well-known O.S. Fowler. Having a good-natured willingness to gratify their curiosity, he consented. It was agreed that he should not speak during the operation, lest the tones of his voice might serve as an index of his character. It was further stipulated that no person in the room should give any indication by which the phrenologist might be enabled to judge whether he was supposed to be speaking correctly or not. The next day, Mr. Fowler was introduced blindfolded into a room, where Isaac T. Hopper was seated with the party of the preceding evening. Having passed his hands over the strongly developed head, he made the following statement, which was taken down by a rapid writer, as the words fell from his lips.

"The first and strongest manifestation of this character is efficiency. Not one man in a thousand is capable of accomplishing so much. The strong points are very strong; the weak points are weak; so that he is an eccentric and peculiar character.

"The pole-star of his character is moral courage.

"He has very little reverence, and stands in no awe of the powers that be. He pays no regard to forms or ceremonies, or established customs, in church or state. He renders no homage to great names, such as D.D.; L.L.D.; or Excellency. He treats his fellow men with kindness and affection, but not with sufficient respect and courtesy.

"He is emphatically republican in feeling and character. He makes himself free and familiar with every one. He often lets himself down too much. This constitutes a radical defect in his character.

"He will assert and maintain human rights and liberty at every hazard. In this cause, he will stake anything, or suffer anything. This constitutes the leading feature of his character. Every other element is blended into this.