Lydia Maria Child, Isaac T. Hopper: a true life

The roguery of his boyhood had subsided into a love of little mischievous tricks; and the playful tone of humor, that rippled through his conversation, frequently reminded me of the Cheeryble Brothers, so admirably described by Dickens. If some one rang at the door, and inquired for Mr. Hopper, he always answered, ‘There is no such person lives here.’ If the stranger urged that he had been directed by a man who said he knew Mr. Hopper, he would persevere in saying, ‘There must be some mistake. No such person lives here.’ At last, when the disappointed visitor turned to go away, he would call out, ‘Perhaps thou means Isaac T. Hopper? That is my name.’

Being called upon to give a receipt to a Catholic priest for some money deposited in his hands, he simply wrote ‘Received of John Smith.’ When the priest had read it, he handed it back and said, ‘I am disbursing other people's money, and shall be obliged to show this receipt; therefore, I should like to have you write my name, the Reverend John Smith.’ ‘I have conscientious scruples about using titles,’ replied Friend Hopper. ‘However, I will try to oblige thee.’ He took another slip of paper, and wrote, ‘Received of John Smith, who calls himself the Reverend.’ The priest smiled, and accepted