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lluted atmosphere. Godwin, in some of his writings, asks, What is it that enables a thousand errors to keep their station in the world? It is cowardice. It is because the majority of men, who see that things are not altogether right, yet see in so frigid a way, and have so little courage to express their views. If every man to-day would tell all the truth he knows, three years hence, there would scarcely be a falsehood of any magnitude remaining in the civilized world. In the summer of 1844, Friend Hopper met with a Methodist preacher from Mississippi, who came with his family to New-York, to attend a General Conference. Being introduced as a zealous abolitionist, the conversation immediately turned upon slavery. One of the preacher's daughters said, I could'nt possibly get along without slaves, Mr. Hopper. Why I never dressed or undressed myself, till I came to the North. I wanted very much to bring a slave with me. I wish thou hadst, rejoined Friend Hopper. And what
ested in a form somewhat different from his. She had no children of her own, but she brought up, on her husband's farm, nineteen poor boys and girls, and gave most of them a trade. Nearly all of them turned out well. In the winters of 1842 and 1843, Friend Hopper complied with urgent invitations to visit the Anti-Slavery Fair, in Boston; and seldom has a warmer welcome been given to any man. As soon as he appeared in Amory Hall, he was always surrounded by a circle of lively girls attracted kissed him; and that among these shall yet arise judges, as at the first, and counsellors, and lawgivers, as in the beginning. My soul longeth for the coming of that day, more than for the increase of corn, and wine, and oil. In the Spring of 1843, Friend Hopper visited Rhode Island, and Bucks County, in Pennsylvania, to address the people in behalf of the enslaved. He was accompanied by Lucinda Wilmarth, a very intelligent and kind-hearted young person, who sometimes spoke on the same sub
akers, and the most comfortable homes in the world, I must go to Bucks County. In his descriptions, it was a blooming land of peace and plenty, approaching as near to an earthly paradise, as could be reasonably expected. At the commencement of 1845, the American Anti-Slavery Society made some changes in their office at New-York, by which the duties of editor and treasurer, were performed by the same person; consequently Friend Hopper's services were no longer needed. When he retired from thttender of meetings. She was kind and affectionate to all. In short, she was a bright example in her family, and to all about her, and finally laid down her head in peace. May her children imitate her virtues. Writing to his daughter Sarah in 1845, he thus returns to the same beloved theme: I lately happened to open the Memoirs of Sarah Harrison. It seemed to place me among my old friends, with whom I walked in sweet unity and Christian fellowship, in days that are gone forever. I there s
August, 1842 AD (search for this): chapter 48
distinguished for minding their own business, and permitting others to attend to theirs. They would be the last people to meddle with the rights of property. The Boston Times quoted the paragraph from the Philadelphia Ledger, with the additional remark, There is no logician like money. Whether Friends in New-York felt flattered by these eulogiums, I know not; but they appear to have been well deserved. In 1842 and the year following, Friend Hopper travelled more than usual. In August 1842, he visited his native place, after an absence of twenty years. He and his wife were accompanied from Philadelphia by his son Edward and his daughter Sarah H. Palmer. Of course, the haunts of his boyhood had undergone many changes. Panther's Bridge had disappeared, and Rabbit Swamp and Turkey Causeway no longer looked like the same places. He visited his father's house, then occupied by strangers, and found the ruins of his great-grandfather's dwelling. Down by the pleasant old creek,
hine. But he called the minnikin grass-plot his meadow, and talked very largely about mowing his hay. He covered the walls and fences with flowering vines, and suspended them between the pillars of his little piazza. Even in this employment he revealed the tendencies of his character. One day, when I was helping him train a woodbine, he said, Fasten it in that direction, Maria; for I want it to go over into our neighbor's yard, that it may make their wall look pleasant. In the summer of 1848, when I was staying in the country, not far from New-York, I received the following letter from him: Dear Friend, the days have not yet come, in which I can say I have no pleasure in them. Notwithstanding the stubs against which I hit my toes, the briars and thorns that sometimes annoy me, and the muddy sloughs I am sometimes obliged to wade through, yet, after all, the days have not come in which I have no enjoyment. In the course of my journey, I find here and there a green spot, by which
peak against it, Friend Hopper wrote an article for the Tribune, and signed it with his name, in which he maintained that the colored people, who defended themselves and their firesides against the lawless assaults of an armed party of negro-hunters from Maryland, ought not to be regarded as traitors or murderers by men who set a just value on liberty, and who had no conscientious scruples with regard to war. The first runaway, who was endangered by the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law in 1850, happened to be placed under his protection. A very goodlooking colored man, who escaped from bondage, resided some years in Worcester, Massachusetts, and acquired several thousand dollars by hair-dressing. He went to New-York to be married, and it chanced that his master arrived in Worcester in search of him, the very day that he started for that city. Some person friendly to the colored man sent information to New-York by telegraph; but the gentleman to whom it was addressed was out of
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 s
April, 1842 AD (search for this): chapter 48
y from their offending members, the Society proceeded to administer its discipline. A complaint was laid before the Monthly Meeting of New-York, in which Isaac T. Hopper, James S. Gibbons, and Charles Marriott, were accused of being concerned in the publication and support of a paper calculated to excite discord and disunity among Friends. Friend Hopper published a statement, characterised by his usual boldness, and disturbed his mind very little about the result of their proceedings. April, 1842, he wrote thus, to his daughter, Sarah H. Palmer, of Philadelphia: During my late indisposition, I was induced to enter into a close examination of my own heart; and I could not find that I stood condemned there for the part I have taken in the anti-slavery cause, which has brought upon me so much censure from those who know not God, nor his son Jesus Christ. They profess that they know God, but in works they deny him. I have not yet given up our Society as lost. I still live in th
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 absence 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 constab
a tailor, whenever it came naturally in his way, but never for the sake of doing so. His having been born in a hen-house was a mere external accident in his eyes; and in the same light he regarded the fact that Victoria was born in a palace. What was the spiritual condition of the two at any given age, was the only thing that seemed to him of real importance. His steadfastness in maintaining moral principles, however unpopular those principles might be, was severely tried in the autumn of 1838. At a late hour in the night, two colored men came to his house, and one introduced the other as a stranger in the city, who had need of a lodging. Friend Hopper of course conjectured that he might be a fugitive slave; and this conjecture was confirmed the next morning. The stranger was a mulatto, about twenty-two years old, and called himself Thomas Hughes. According to his own account, he was the son of a wealthy planter in Virginia, who sold his mother with himself and his twin sister
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