Chapter 13

There were many highly respectable individuals among the colored people of Philadelphia. Richard Allen, who had been a slave, purchased freedom with the proceeds of his own industry. He married, and established himself as a shoemaker in that city, where he acquired considerable property, and built a three-story brick house. He was the principal agent in organizing the first congregation of colored people in Philadelphia, and was their pastor to the day of his death, without asking or receiving any compensation. During the latter part of his life, he was Bishop of their Methodist Episcopal Church. Absalom Jones, a much respected colored man, was his colleague. In 1793, when the yellow fever was raging, it was extremely difficult to procure attendants for the sick on any terms; and the few who would consent to render service, demanded exorbitant prices. But Bishop Allen and Rev. Mr. Jones never hesitated to go wherever they could be useful; and with them, the compensation was always a secondary consideration. When the pestilence had abated, the mayor sent them a certificate expressing his approbation of their conduct. But even these men, whose worth commanded respect, were not safe from the legalized curse that rests upon their hunted race. A Southern speculator arrested Bishop Allen, and claimed him as a fugitive slave, whom he had bought running. The constable employed to serve the warrant was ashamed to drag the good man through the streets; and he merely said, in a respectful tone, "Mr. Allen, you will soon come down to Alderman Todd's office, will you?"

The fugitive, whom they were seeking, had absconded only four years previous; and everybody in Philadelphia, knew that Richard Allen had been living there more than twenty years. Yet the speculator and his sons swore unblushingly that he was the identical slave they had purchased. Mr. Allen thought he ought to have some redress for this outrage; "For," said he, "if it had not been for the kindness of the officer, I might have been dragged through the streets like a felon."

Isaac T. Hopper was consulted, and a civil suit commenced. Eight hundred dollars bail was demanded, and the speculator, being unable to procure it, was lodged in the debtor's prison. When he had been there three months, Mr. Allen caused him to be discharged; saying he did not wish to persecute the man, but merely to teach him not to take up free people again, for the purpose of carrying them into slavery.

The numerous instances of respectability among the colored people were doubtless to be attributed in part to the protecting influence extended over them by the Quakers. But even in those days, the Society of Friends were by no means all free from prejudice against color; and in later times, I think they have not proved themselves at all superior to other sects in their feelings and practice on this subject. Friend Hopper, Joseph Carpenter, and the few who resemble them in this respect, are _exceptions_ to the general character of modern Quakers, not the _rule._ The following very characteristic anecdote shows how completely Isaac was free from prejudice on account of complexion. It is an unusual thing to see a colored Quaker; for the African temperament is fervid and impressible, and requires more exciting forms of religion. David Maps and his wife, a very worthy couple, were the only colored members of the Yearly Meeting to which Isaac T. Hopper belonged. On the occasion of the annual gathering in Philadelphia, they came with other members of the Society to share the hospitality of his house. A question arose in the family whether Friends of white complexion would object to eating with them. "Leave that to me," said the master of the household. Accordingly when the time arrived, he announced it thus: "Friends, dinner is now ready. David Maps and his wife will come with me; and as I like to have all accommodated, those who object to dining with them can wait till they have done." The guests smiled, and all seated themselves at the table.

The conscientiousness so observable in several anecdotes of Isaac's boyhood was strikingly manifested in his treatment of a colored printer, named Kane. This man was noted for his profane swearing. Friend Hopper had expostulated with him concerning this bad habit, without producing the least effect. One day, he encountered him in the street, pouring forth a volley of terrible oaths, enough to make one shudder. Believing him incurable by gentler means, he took him before a magistrate, who fined him for blasphemy.

He did not see the man again for a long time; but twenty years afterward, when he was standing at his door, Kane passed by. The Friend's heart was touched by his appearance; for he looked old, feeble, and poor. He stepped out, shook hands with him, and said in kindly tones, "Dost thou remember me, and how I caused thee to be fined for swearing?"

"Yes, indeed I do," he replied. "I remember how many dollars I paid, as well as if it were but yesterday."

"Did it do thee any good;" inquired Friend Hopper.

"Never a bit," answered he. "It only made me mad to have my money taken from me."

The poor man was invited to walk into the house. The interest was calculated on the fine, and every cent repaid to him. "I meant it for thy good," said the benevolent Quaker; "and I am sorry that I only provoked thee." Kane's countenance changed at once, and tears began to flow. He took the money with many thanks, and was never again heard to swear.

Friend Hopper's benevolence was by no means confined to colored people. Wherever there was good to be done, his heart and hand were ready. From various anecdotes in proof of this, I select the following.

JOHN McGRIER.

John was an Irish orphan, whose parents died of yellow fever, when he was very young. He obtained a scanty living by doing errands for cartmen. In the year 1800, when he was about fourteen years old, there was a long period during which he could obtain scarcely any employment. Being without friends, and in a state of extreme destitution, he was tempted to enter a shop and steal two dollars from the drawer. He was pursued and taken. Isaac T. Hopper, who was one of the inspectors of the prison at that time, saw a crowd gathered, and went to inquire the cause. The poor boy's history was soon told. Friend Hopper liked the expression of his countenance, and pitied his forlorn condition. When he was brought up for trial, he accompanied him, and pleaded with the judge in his favor. He urged that the poor child's education had been entirely neglected, and consequently he was more to be pitied than blamed. If sent to prison, he would in all probability become hardened, if not utterly ruined. He said if the judge would allow him to take charge of the lad, he would promise to place him in good hands, where he would be out of the way of temptation. The judge granted his request, and John was placed in prison merely for a few days, till Friend Hopper could provide for him. He proposed to his father to have the boy bound to him. The old gentleman hesitated at first, on account of his neglected education and wild way of living; but pity for the orphan overcame his scruples, and he agreed to take him. John lived with him till he was twenty-one years of age, and was remarkably faithful and industrious. But about two years after, a neighbor came one night to arrest him for stealing a horse. Old Mr. Hopper assured him it was not possible John had done such a thing; that during all the time he had lived in his family he had proved himself entirely honest and trustworthy. The neighbor replied that his horse had been taken to Philadelphia and sold; and the ferryman from Woodbury was ready to swear that the animal was brought over by Hopper's John, as he was generally called. John was in bed, but was called up to answer the accusation. He did not attempt to deny it, but gave up the money at once, and kept repeating that he did know what made him do it. He was dreadfully ashamed and distressed. He begged that Friend Isaac would not come to see him in prison, for he could not look him the face. His anguish of mind was so great, that when the trial came on, he was emaciated almost to a skeleton. Old Mr. Hopper went into court and stated the adverse circumstances of his early life, and his exemplary conduct during nine years that he had lived in his family. He begged that he might be fined instead of imprisoned, and offered to pay the fine himself. The proposition was accepted, and the kind old man took the culprit home.

This lenient treatment completely subdued the last vestige of evil habits acquired in childhood. He was humble and grateful in the extreme, and always steady and industrious. He conducted with great propriety ever afterward, and established such a character for honesty, that the neighbors far and wide trusted him to carry their produce to market, receiving a small commission for his trouble. Eventually, he came to own a small house and farm, where he lived in much comfort and respectability. He always looked up to Isaac as the friend who had early raised him from a downward and slippery path; and he was never weary of manifesting gratitude by every little attention he could devise.

LEVI BUTLER.

Some one having told Friend Hopper of an apprentice who was cruelly treated, he caused investigation to be made, and took the lad under his own protection. As he was much bent upon going to sea, he was placed in a respectable boarding-house for sailors, till a fitting opportunity could be found to gratify his inclination. One day, a man in the employ of this boarding-house brought a bill to be paid for the lad. He was very ragged, but his manners were those of a gentleman, and his conversation showed that he had been well educated. His appearance excited interest in Friend Hopper's mind, and he inquired into his history. He said his name was Levi Butler; that he was of German extraction, and had been a wealthy merchant in Baltimore, of the firm of Butler and Magruder. He married a widow, who had considerable property, and several children. After her death, he failed in business, and gave up all his own property, but took the precaution to secure all her property to her children. His creditors were angry, and tried various ways to compel him to pay them with his wife's money. He was imprisoned a long time. He petitioned the Legislature for release, and the committee before whom the case was brought made a report in his favor, highly applauding his integrity in not involving his own affairs with the property belonging to his wife's children, who had been intrusted to his care. Poverty and persecution had broken down his spirits, and when he was discharged from prison he left Baltimore and tried to obtain a situation as clerk in Philadelphia. He did not succeed in procuring employment. His clothes became thread-bare, and he had no money to purchase a new suit. In this situation, some people to whom he applied for employment treated him as if he were an impostor. In a state of despair he went one day to drown himself. But when he had put some heavy stones in his pocket to make him sink rapidly, he seemed to hear a voice calling to him to forbear; and looking up, he saw a man watching him. He hurried away to avoid questions, and passing by a sailor's boarding-house, he went in and offered to wait upon the boarders for his food. They took him upon those terms; and the gentleman who had been accustomed to ride in his own carriage, and be waited upon by servants, now roasted oysters and went of errands for common seamen. He was in this forlorn situation, when accident introduced him to Friend Hopper's notice. He immediately furnished him with a suit of warm clothes; for the weather was cold, and his garments thin. He employed him to post up his account-books, and finding that he did it in a very perfect manner, he induced several of his friends to employ him in a similar way.

A brighter day was dawning for the unfortunate man, and perhaps he might have attained to comfortable independence, if his health had not failed. But he had taken severe colds by thin clothing and exposure to inclement weather. A rapid consumption came on, and he was soon entirely unable to work. Under these circumstances, the best Friend Hopper could do for him was to secure peculiar privileges at the alms-house, and surround him with, all the little comforts that help to alleviate illness. He visited him very often, until the day of his death, and his sympathy and kind attentions were always received with heartfelt gratitude.

THE MUSICAL BOY.

One day when Friend Hopper visited the prison, he found a dark-eyed lad with a very bright expressive countenance His right side was palsied, so that the arm hung down useless. Attracted by his intelligent face, he entered into conversation with him, and found that he had been palsied from infancy. He had been sent forth friendless into the world from an alms-house in Maryland. In Philadelphia, he had been committed to prison as a vagrant, because he drew crowds about him in the street by his wonderful talent of imitating a hand-organ, merely by whistling tunes through his fingers. Friend Hopper, who had imbibed the Quaker idea that music was a useless and frivolous pursuit, said to the boy, "Didst thou not know it was wrong to spend thy time in that idle manner?"

With ready frankness the young prisoner replied, "No, I did not; and I should like to hear how _you_ can prove it to be wrong. God has given you sound limbs. Half of my body is paralyzed, and it is impossible for me to work as others do. It has pleased God to give me a talent for music. I do no harm with it. It gives pleasure to myself and others, and enables me to gain a few coppers to buy my bread. I should like to have you show me wherein it is wrong."

Without attempting to do so, Friend Hopper suggested that perhaps he had been committed to prison on account of producing noise and confusion in the streets.

"I make no riot," rejoined the youth. "I try to please people by my tunes; and if the crowd around me begin to be noisy, I quietly walk off."

Struck with the good sense and sincerity of these answers, Friend Hopper said to the jailor, "Thou mayest set this lad at liberty. I will be responsible for it."

The jailer relying on his well-known character, and his intimacy with Robert Wharton, the mayor, did not hesitate to comply with his request. At that moment, the mayor himself came in sight, and Friend Hopper said to the lad, "Step into the next room, and play some of thy best tunes till I come."

"What's this?" said Mr. Wharton. "Have you got a hand-organ here!"

"Yes," replied Friend Hopper; "and I will show it to thee. It is quite curious."

At first, the mayor could not believe that the sounds he had heard were produced by a lad merely whistling through his fingers. He thought them highly agreeable, and asked to have the tunes repeated.

"The lad was committed to prison for no other offence than making that noise, which seems to thee so pleasant," said Friend Hopper. "I dare say thou wouldst like to make it thyself, if thou couldst. I have taken the liberty to discharge him."

"Very well," rejoined the mayor, with a smile. "You have done quite right, Friend Isaac. You may go, my lad. I shall not trouble you. But try not to collect crowds about the streets."

"That I cannot help," replied the youth. "The crowds _will_ come, when I whistle for them; and I get coppers by collecting crowds. But I promise you I will try to avoid their making any riot or confusion."

MARY NORRIS.

A stout healthy woman, named Mary Norris was continually taken up as a vagrant, or committed for petty larceny. As soon as she was discharged from the penalty of one misdemeanor, she was committed for another. One day, Friend Hopper, who was then inspector, said to her, "Well, Mary, thy time is out next week. Dost thou think thou shalt come back again?"

"Yes," she replied sullenly.

"Dost thou _like_ to come back?" inquired he.

"No, to be sure I don't," rejoined the prisoner. "But I've no doubt I _shall_ come back before the month is out."

"Why dost thou not make a resolution to behave better?" said the kindly inspector.

"What use would it be?" she replied. "You wouldn't take me into your family. The doctor wouldn't take me into his family. No respectable person would have anything to do with me. My associates _must_ be such acquaintances as I make here. If they steal, I am taken up for it; no matter whether I am guilty or not. I am an old convict, and nobody believes what I say. O, yes, I shall come back again. To be sure I shall come back," she repeated bitterly.

Her voice and manner excited Friend Hopper's compassion, and he thus addressed her: "If I will get a place for thee in some respectable family where they will be kind to thee, wilt thou give me thy word that thou wilt be honest and steady, and try to do thy duty."

Her countenance brightened, and she eagerly answered, "Yes I _will_! And thank God and you too, the longest day I have to live."

He exerted his influence in her behalf, and procured a situation for her as head-nurse at the alms-house. She was well contented there, and behaved with great propriety. Seventeen years afterward, when Friend Hopper had not seen her for a long time, he called to inquire about her, and was informed that during all those years, she had been an honest, sober, and useful woman. She was rejoiced to see him again, and expressed lively gratitude, for the quiet and comfortable life she enjoyed through his agency.

THE MAGDALEN.

Upon one occasion, Friend Hopper entered a complaint against an old woman, who had presided over an infamous house for many years. She was tried, and sentenced to several months imprisonment. He went to see her several times, and talked very seriously with her concerning the errors of her life. Finding that his expostulations made some impression, he asked if she felt willing to amend her ways. "Oh, I should be thankful to do it!" she exclaimed. "But who would trust me? What can I do to earn an honest living? Everybody curses me, or makes game of me. How _can_ I be a better woman, if I try ever so hard?"

"I will give thee a chance to amend thy life," he replied; "and if thou dost not, it shall be thy own fault."

He went round among the wealthy Quakers, and by dint of great persuasion he induced one to let her a small tenement at very low rent. A few others agreed to purchase some humble furniture, and a quantity of thread, needles, tape, and buttons, to furnish a small shop. The poor old creature's heart overflowed with gratitude, and it was her pride to keep everything very neat and orderly. There she lived contented and comfortable the remainder of her days, and became much respected in the neighborhood. The tears often came to her eyes when she saw Friend Hopper. "God bless that good man!" she would say. "He has been the salvation of me."

THE UNCOMPLIMENTARY INVITATION.

A preacher of the Society of Friends felt impressed with the duty of calling a meeting for vicious people; and Isaac T. Hopper was appointed to collect an audience. In the course of this mission, he knocked at the door of a very infamous house. A gentleman who was acquainted with him was passing by, and he stopped to say, "Friend Hopper, you have mistaken the house."

"No, I have not," he replied.

"But that is a house of notorious ill fame," said the gentleman.

"I know it," rejoined he; "but nevertheless I have business here."

His acquaintance looked surprised, but passed on without further query. A colored girl came to the door. To the inquiry whether her mistress was within, she answered in the affirmative. "Tell her I wish to see her," said Friend Hopper. The girl was evidently astonished at a visitor in Quaker costume, and of such grave demeanor; but she went and did the errand. A message was returned that her mistress was engaged and could not see any one. "Where is she?" he inquired. The girl replied that she was up-stairs. "I will go to her," said the importunate messenger.

The mistress of the house heard him, and leaning over the balustrade of the stairs, she screamed out, "What do you want with me, sir?"

In very loud tones he answered, "James Simpson, a minister of the Society of Friends, has appointed a meeting to be held this afternoon, in Penrose store, Almond-street. It is intended for publicans, sinners, and harlots. I want thee to be there, and bring thy whole household with thee. Wilt thou come?"

She promised that she would; and he afterward saw her at the meeting melted into tears by the direct and affectionate preaching.

THEFT FROM NECESSITY.

One day, when the family were in the midst of washing, a man called at Isaac T. Hopper's house to buy soap fat, and was informed they had none to sell. A minute after he had passed out, the domestic came running in to say that he had stolen some of the children's clothes from the line. Friend Hopper followed him quickly, and called out, "Dost thou want to buy some soap-fat? Come back if thou dost."

When the man had returned to the kitchen, he said, "Now give up the clothes thou hast stolen."

The culprit was extremely confused, but denied that he had stolen anything.

"Give them up at once, without any more words. It will be much better for thee," said Friend Hopper, in his firm way.

Thus urged, the stranger drew from his bosom some small shirts and flannel petticoats. "My wife is very sick," said he. "She has a babe two weeks old, wrapped up in an old rag; and when I saw this comfortable clothing on the line, I was tempted to take it for the poor little creature. We have no fuel except a little tan. A herring is the last mouthful of food we have in the house; and when I came away, it was broiling on the hot tan."

His story excited pity; but fearing it might be made up for the occasion, Friend Hopper took him to a magistrate and said, "Please give me a commitment for this man. If he tells a true story, I will tear it up. I will go and see for myself."

When he arrived at the wretched abode, he found a scene of misery that pained him to the heart. The room was cold, and the wife was in bed, pale and suffering. Her babe had no clothing, except a coarse rag torn from the skirt of an old coat. Of course he destroyed the commitment immediately. His next step was to call upon the rich Quakers of his acquaintance, and obtain from them contributions of wood, flour, rice, bread, and warm garments. Employment was soon after procured for the man, and he was enabled to support his family comfortably. He never passed Friend Hopper in the street without making a low bow, and often took occasion to express his grateful acknowledgments.

PATRICK McKEEVER.