Ben was born a slave in Virginia. When he was about sixteen years old, his mind became excited on the subject of slavery. He could not reconcile it with the justice and goodness of the Creator, that one man should be born to toil for another without wages, to be driven about, and treated like a beast of the field. The older he grew, the more heavily did these considerations press upon him. At last, when he was about twenty-five years old, he resolved to gain his liberty, if possible. He left his master, and after encountering many difficulties, arrived in Philadelphia, where he let himself on board a vessel and went several voyages. When he was thirty years of age, he married, and was employed as a coachman by Dr. Benjamin Rush, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He lived with him two years; and when he left, Dr. Rush gave him a paper certifying that he was a free man, honest, sober, and capable.

In 1799, his master came to Philadelphia, and arrested him as his fugitive slave. Ben had an extraordinary degree of intelligence and tact. When his master brought him before a magistrate, and demanded the usual certificate to authorize him to take his human chattel back to Virginia, Ben neither admitted nor denied that he was a slave. He merely showed the certificate of Dr. Rush, and requested that Isaac T. Hopper might be informed of his situation. Joseph Bird, the justice before whom the case was brought, detested slavery, and was a sincere friend to the colored people. He committed Ben to prison until morning, and despatched a note to Isaac T. Hopper informing him of the circumstance, and requesting him to call upon Dr. Rush. When the doctor was questioned, he said he knew nothing about Ben's early history; he lived with him two years, and was then a free man.

When Friend Hopper went to the prison, he found Ben in a state of great anxiety and distress. He admitted that he was the slave of the man who claimed him, and that he saw no way of escape open for him. His friend told him not to be discouraged, and promised to exert himself to the utmost in his behalf. The constable who had arrested him, sympathized with the poor victim of oppression, and promised to do what he could for him. Finding him in such a humane mood, Friend Hopper urged him to bring Ben to the magistrate's office a short time before the hour appointed for the trial. He did so, and found Friend Hopper already there, watching the clock. The moment the hand pointed to nine, he remarked that the hour, of which the claimant had been apprized, had already arrived; no evidence had been brought that the man was a slave; on the contrary, Dr. Rush's certificate was strong presumptive evidence of his being a freeman; he therefore demanded that the prisoner should be discharged. Justice Bird, having no desire to throw obstacles in the way, promptly told Ben he was at liberty, and he lost no time in profiting by the information. Just as he passed out of the door, he saw his master coming, and ran full speed. He had sufficient presence of mind to take a zigzag course, and running through a house occupied by colored people, he succeeded in eluding pursuit.

When Friend Hopper went home, he found him at his house. He tried to impress upon his mind the peril he would incur by remaining in Philadelphia, and advised him by all means to go to sea. But his wife was strongly attached to him, and so unwilling to consent to this plan, that he concluded to run the risk of staying with her. He remained concealed about a week, and then returned to the house he had previously occupied. They lived in the second story, and there was a shed under their bed-room window. Ben placed a ladder under the window, to be ready for escape; but it was so short, that it did not reach the roof of the shed by five or six feet. His wife was an industrious, orderly woman, and kept their rooms as neat as a bee-hive. The only thing which marred their happiness was the continual dread that man-hunters might pounce upon them, in some unguarded hour, and separate them forever. About a fortnight after his arrest, they were sitting together in the dusk of the evening, when the door was suddenly burst open, and his master rushed in with a constable. Ben sprang out of the window, down the ladder, and made his escape. His master and the constable followed; but as soon as they were on the ladder, Ben's wife cut the cord that held it, and they tumbled heels over head upon the shed. This bruised them some, and frightened them still more. They scrambled upon their feet, cursing at a round rate.

Ben arrived safely at the house of Isaac T. Hopper, who induced him to quit the city immediately, and go to sea. His first voyage was to the East Indies. While he was gone, Friend Hopper negotiated with the master, who, finding there was little chance of regaining his slave, agreed to manumit him for one hundred and fifty dollars. As soon as Ben returned, he repaid from his wages the sum which had been advanced for his ransom. His wife's health was greatly impaired by the fear and anxiety she had endured on his account. She became a prey to melancholy, and never recovered her former cheerfulness.

The person who assumed this name was called Notly, when he was a slave in Maryland. He was compelled to labor very hard, was scantily supplied with food and clothing, and lodged in a little ricketty hut, through which the cold winds of winter whistled freely. He was of a very religious turn of mind, and often, when alone in his little cabin at midnight, he prayed earnestly to God to release him from his sufferings.

In the year 1800, he found a favorable opportunity to escape from his unfeeling master, and made his way to Philadelphia, where he procured employment in a lumber-yard, under the name of John Smith. He was so diligent and faithful, that he soon gained the good — will and confidence of his employers. He married a worthy, industrious woman, with whom he lived happily. By their united earnings they were enabled to purchase a small house, where they enjoyed more comfort than many wealthy people, and were much respected by neighbors and acquaintances.

Unfortunately, he confided his story to a colored man, who, for the sake of reward, informed his master where he was to be found. Accordingly, he came to Philadelphia, arrested him, and carried him before a magistrate. Having brought forward satisfactory evidence that he was a slave, an order was granted to carry him back to Maryland. Isaac T. Hopper was present at this decision, and was afflicted by it beyond measure. John's employers pitied his condition, and sympathized with his afflicted wife and children. They offered to pay a large sum for his ransom; but his savage master refused to release him on any terms. This sober, industrious man, guiltless of any crime, was hand-cuffed and had his arms tied behind him with a rope, to which another rope was appended, for his master to hold. While they were fastening his fetters, he spoke a few affectionate words to his weeping wife. Take good care of the children, said he; and don't let them forget their poor father. If you are industrious and frugal, I hope you will be enabled to keep them at school, till they are old enough to be placed at service in respectable families. Never allow them to be idle; for that will lead them into bad ways. And now don't forget my advice; for it is most likely you will never see me again.

Then addressing his children, he said, You will have no father to take care of you now. Mind what your mother tells you, and be very careful not to do anything to grieve her. Be industrious and faithful in whatever you are set about; and never play in the streets with naughty children.

They all wept bitterly while he thus talked to them; but he restrained his sobs, though it was evident his heart was well nigh breaking. Isaac T. Hopper was present at this distressing scene, and suffered almost as acutely as the poor slave himself. In the midst of his parting words, his master seized the rope, mounted his horse, snapped his whip, and set off, driving poor John before him. This was done in a Christian country, and there was no law to protect the victim.

John was conveyed to Washington and offered for sale to speculators, who were buying up gangs for the Southern market. The sight of dejected and brutified slaves, chained together in coffles, was too common at the seat of our republican government to attract attention; but the barbarity of John's master was so conspicuous, that even there he was rebuked for his excessive cruelty. These expressions of sympathy were quite unexpected to the poor slave, and they kindled a faint hope of escape, which had been smouldering in his breast. Manacled as he was, he contrived to trip up his master, and leaving him prostrate on the ground, he ran for the woods. He was soon beyond the reach of his tyrant, and might have escaped easily if a company had not immediately formed to pursue him. They chased him from the shelter of the bushes to a swamp, where he was hunted like a fox, till night with friendly darkness overshadowed him. While his enemies were sleeping, he cautiously made his way by the light of the stars, to the house of an old acquaintance, who hastened to take off his fetters, and give him a good supper.

Thus refreshed, he hastened to bid his colored friend farewell, and with fear and trembling set off for Philadelphia. He had several rivers to cross, and he thought likely men would be stationed on the bridges to arrest him. Therefore, he hid himself in the deepest recesses of the woods in the day-time, and travelled only in the night. He suffered much with hunger and fatigue, but arrived home at last, to the great astonishment and joy of his family. He well knew that these precious moments of affectionate greeting were highly dangerous; for his own roof could afford no shelter from pursuers armed with the power of a wicked law. He accordingly hastened to Isaac T. Hopper for advice and assistance.

The yellow fever was then raging in Philadelphia, and the children had all been carried into the country by their mother. Business made it necessary for

Friend Hopper to be in the city during the day-time, and a colored domestic remained with him to take charge of the house. This woman was alone when the fugitive arrived; but she showed him to an upper chamber secured by a strong fastening. He had been there but a short time, when his master came with two constables and proceeded to search the house. When they found a room with the door bolted, they demanded entrance; and receiving no answer, they began to consult together how to gain admittance. At this crisis, the master of the house came home, and received information of what was going on up-stairs. He hastened thither, and ordered the intruders to quit his house instantly. One of the constables said, This gentleman's slave is here; and if you don't deliver him up immediately, we will get a warrant to search the house.

Quit my premises, replied Friend Hopper. The mayor dare not grant a warrant to search my house.

The men withdrew in no very good humor, and a message soon came from the mayor requesting to see Isaac T. Hopper. He obeyed the summons, and the magistrate said to him, This gentleman informs me that his slave is in your house. Is it so?

The wary Friend replied, Thou hast just told me that this man says he is. Dost thou not believe him?

But I wish to know from yourself whether he is in your house or not, rejoined the magistrate.

If the mayor reflects a little, I think he will see that he has no right to ask such a question; and that I am not bound to answer it, replied Friend Hopper. If he is in my house, and if this man can prove it, I am liable to a heavy penalty; and no man is bound to inform against himself. These people have not behaved so civilly, that I feel myself under any especial obligations of courtesy toward them. Hast thou any further business with me?

Did you say I dared not grant a warrant to search your house? asked the mayor.

He answered, Indeed I did say so; and I now repeat it. I mean no disrespect to anybody in authority; but neither thou nor any other magistrate would dare to grant a warrant to search my house. I am a man of established reputation. I am not a suspicious character.

The mayor smiled, as he replied, I don't know about that, Mr. Hopper. In the present case, I am inclined to think you are a very suspicious character. And so they parted.

The master resorted to various stratagems to recapture his victim. He dressed himself in Quaker costume and went to his house. The once happy home was desolate now; and the anxious wife sat weeping, with her little ones clinging to her in childish sympathy. The visitor professed to be very friendly to her husband, and desirous to ascertain where he could be found, in order to render him advice and assistance in eluding the vigilance of his master. The wife prudently declined giving any information, but referred him to Isaac T. Hopper, as the most suitable person to consult in the case. Finding that he could not gain his object by deception, he forgot to sustain the quiet character he had assumed, but gave vent to his anger in a great deal of violent and profane language. He went off, finally, swearing that in spite of them all he would have his slave again, if he was to be found on the face of the earth.

John Smith remained under the protection of Friend Isaac about a week. Spies were seen lurking round the house for several days; but they disappeared at last. Supposing this was only a trick to put them off their guard, a colored man was employed to run out of the house after dark. The enemies who were lying in ambush, rushed out and laid violent hands upon him. They released him as soon as they discovered their mistake; but the next day Friend Hopper had them arrested, and compelled them to enter into bonds for their good behavior. On the following evening the same man was employed to run out again; and this time he was not interrupted. The third evening, John Smith himself ventured forth from his hiding-place, and arrived safely in New-Jersey.

He let himself to a worthy farmer, and soon gained the confidence and good will of all the family. He ate at the same table with them, and sat with them on Sunday afternoons, listening to their reading of the Scriptures and other religious books. This system of equality did not diminish the modesty of his deportment, but rather tended to increase his habitual humility.

He remained there several months, during which time he never dared to visit his family, though only eight miles distant from them. This was a great source of unhappiness; for he was naturally affectionate, and was strongly attached to his wife and children. At length, he ventured to hire a small house in a very secluded situation, not far from the village of Haddonfield; and once more he gathered his family around him. But his domestic comfort was constantly disturbed by fear of men-stealers. While at his work in the day-time, he sometimes started at the mere rustling of a leaf; and in the night time, he often woke up in agony from terrifying dreams.

The false friend, who betrayed him to his cruel master, likewise suffered greatly from fear. When he heard that John had again escaped, he was exceedingly alarmed for his own safety. He dreamed that his abused friend came with a knife in one hand and a torch in the other, threatening to murder him and burn the house. These ideas took such hold of his imagination, that he often started up in bed and screamed aloud. But John was too sincerely religious to cherish a revengeful spirit. The wrong done to him was as great as one mortal could inflict upon another; but he had learned the divine precept not to render evil for evil.

The event proved that John's uneasiness was too well founded. A few months after his family rejoined him, Isaac T. Hopper heard that his master had arrived in Philadelphia, and was going to New-Jersey to arrest him. He immediately apprised him of his danger; and the tidings were received with feelings of desperation amounting to phrensy. He loaded his gun and determined to defend himself Very early the next morning, he saw his master with two men coming up the narrow lane that led to his house. He stationed himself in the door-way, leveled his gun, and called out, I will shoot the first man that crosses that fence! They were alarmed, and turned back to procure assistance. John seized that opportunity to quit his retreat. He hastened to Philadelphia, and informed Isaac T. Hopper what had happened. His friend represented to him the unchristian character of such violent measures, and advised him not to bring remorse on his soul by the shedding of blood. The poor hunted fugitive seemed to be convinced, though it was a hard lesson to learn in his circumstances. Again he resolved to fly for safety; and his friend advised him to go to Boston. A vessel from that place was then lying in the Delaware, and the merchant who had charge of her, pitying his forlorn situation, offered him a passage free of expense. Kindness bestowed on him was always like good seed dropped into a rich soil. He was so obliging and diligent during the voyage, that he more than compensated the captain for his passage. He arrived safely in Boston, where his certificates of good character soon enabled him to procure employment. Not long after, he sent for his wife, who sold what little property they had in Philadelphia, and took her children to their new home.

When John left New-Jersey, he assumed the name of Thomas Cooper, by which he was ever afterward known. He had early in life manifested a religious turn of mind; and this was probably increased by his continual perils and narrow escapes. He mourned over every indication of dishonesty, profanity, or dissipation, among people of his own color; and this feeling grew upon him, until he felt as if it were a duty to devote his life to missionary labors. He became a popular preacher among the Methodists, and visited some of the West India Islands in that capacity. His christian example and fervid exhortations, warm from the heart, are said to have produced a powerful effect on his untutored hearers. After his return, he concluded to go to Africa as a missionary. For that purpose, he took shipping with his family for London, where he was received with much kindness by many persons to whom he took letters of introduction. His children were placed at a good school by a benevolent member of the Society of Friends; and from various quarters he received the most gratifying testimonials of respect and sympathy. But what was of more value than all else to the poor harassed fugitive, was the fact that he now, for the first time in his life, felt entirely safe from the fangs of the oppressor.

He remained in London about a year and a half. During that time he compiled a hymn book which his friends published with his portrait in front. He preached with great acceptance to large congregations: several thousand persons assembled to hear his farewell sermon on the eve of his departure for Africa. He sailed for Sierra Leone, in the latter part of 1818, and was greeted there with much cordiality; for his fame had preceded him. All classes flocked to hear him preach, and his labors were highly useful. After several years spent in the discharge of religious duties, he died of the fever which so often proves fatal to strangers in Africa. His wife returned with her children to end her days in Philadelphia.

In the year 1801, a Captain Dana engaged passage in a Philadelphia schooner bound to Charleston, South Carolina. The day he expected to sail, he called at the house of a colored woman, and told her he had a good suit of clothes, too small for his own son, but about the right size for her little boy. He proposed to take the child home to try the garments, and if they fitted him he would make him a present of them. The mother was much gratified by these friendly professions, and dressed the boy up as well as she could to accompany the captain, who gave him a piece of gingerbread, took him by the hand, and led him away. Instead of going to his lodgings, as he had promised, he proceeded directly to the schooner, and left the boy in care of the captain: saying that he himself would come on board while the vessel was on the way down the river. As they were about to sail, a sudden storm came on. The wind raged so violently, that the ship dragged her anchor, and they were obliged to haul to at a wharf in the district of Southwark. A respectable man, who lived in the neighborhood, was standing on the wharf at the time, and hearing a child crying very bitterly on board the vessel, he asked the colored cook whose child that was, and why he was in such distress. He replied that a passenger by the name of Dana brought him on board, and that the boy said he stole him from his mother.

A note was immediately despatched to Isaac T. Hopper, who, being away from home, did not receive it till ten o'clock at night. The moment he read it, lie called for a constable, and proceeded directly to the schooner. In answer to his inquiries, the captain declared that all the hands had gone on shore, and that he was entirely alone in the vessel. Friend Hopper called for a light, and asked him to open the forecastle, that they might ascertain whether any person were there. He peremptorily refused; saying that his word ought to be sufficient to satisfy them. Friend Hopper took up an axe that was lying on the deck, and declared that he would break the door, unless it was opened immediately. In this dilemma, the captain, with great reluctance, unlocked the forecastle; and there they found the cook and the boy. The constable took them all in custody, and they proceeded to the mayor's. The rain fell in torrents, and it was extremely dark; for in those days, there were no lamps in that part of the city. They went stumbling over cellar doors, and wading through gutters, till they arrived in

Wagelma was a lively intelligent colored boy of ten years old, whom his mother had bound as an apprentice to a Frenchman in Philadelphia. This man being about to take his family to Baltimore, in the summer of 1801, with the intention of going thence to France, put his apprentice on board a Newcastle packet bound to Baltimore, without having the consent of the boy or his mother, as the laws of Pennsylvania required. The mother did not even know of his intended departure, till she heard that her child was on board the ship. Fears that he might be sold into slavery, either in Baltimore or the West Indies, seized upon her mind; and even if that dreadful fate did not await him, there was great probability that she would never see him again.

In her distress she called upon Isaac T. Hopper, immediately after sunrise. He hastened to the wharf, where the Newcastle packet generally lay, but had the mortification to find that she had already started, and that a gentle breeze was wafting her down the stream. He mounted a fleet horse, and in twenty minutes arrived at Gloucester Point, three miles below the city. The ferry at that place was kept by a highly respectable widow, with whom he had been long acquainted. He briefly stated the case to her, and she at once ordered one of her ferrymen to put him on board the Newcastle packet, which was in sight, and near the Jersey shore. They made all speed, for there was not a moment to lose.

When they came along-side the packet, the captain, supposing him to be a passenger for Baltimore, ordered the sailors to assist him on board. When his business was made known, he was told that the Frenchman was in the cabin. He sought him out, and stated that the laws of Pennsylvania did not allow apprentices to be carried out of the state without certain preliminaries, to which he had not attended. The Frenchman had six or eight friends with him, and as he was going out of the country, he put the laws at defiance. Meanwhile, the vessel was gliding down the river, carrying friend Hopper to Newcastie. He summoned the captain, and requested him to put the colored boy into the ferry-boat, which was alongside ready to receive him. He was not disposed to interfere; but when Friend Hopper drew a volume from his pocket and read to him the laws applicable to the case, he became alarmed, and said the boy must be given up. Whereupon, Friend Hopper directed the child to go on deck, which he was ready enough to do; and the ferryman soon helped him on board the boat.

The Frenchman and his friends were very noisy and violent. They attempted to throw Friend Hopper overboard; and there were so many of them, that they seemed likely to succeed in their efforts. But he seized one of them fast by the coat; resolved to have company in the water, if he were compelled to take a plunge. They struck his hand with their canes, and pulled the coat from his grasp. Then he seized hold of another; and so the struggle continued for some minutes. The ferryman, who was watching the conflict, contrived to bring his boat into a favorable position; and Friend Hopper suddenly let go the Frenchman's coat, and tumbled in.

When he returned to Philadelphia with the boy, he found the mother waiting at his house, in a state of intense anxiety. The meeting between mother and son was joyful indeed; and Wagelma made them all laugh by his animated description of his friend's encounter with the Frenchmen, accompanied by a lively imitation of their gesticulations. In witnessing the happiness he had imparted, their benefactor found more than sufficient compensation for all the difficulties he had encountered.

Slavery having been abolished by a gradual process in Pennsylvania, there were many individuals who still remained in bondage at the period of which I write. Among them was James Poovey, slave to a blacksmith in Pennsylvania. He had learned his master's trade, and being an athletic man, was very valuable. During several winters, he attended an evening school for the free instruction of colored people. He made very slow progress in learning, but by means of unremitting industry and application, he was at last able to accomplish the desire of his heart, which was to read the New Testament for himself.

The fact that colored men born a few years later than himself were free, by the act of gradual emancipation, while he was compelled to remain in bondage, had long been a source of uneasiness; and increase of knowledge by no means increased his contentment. Having come to the conclusion that slavery was utterly unjust, he resolved not to submit to it any longer. In the year 1802, when he was about thirty-three years of age, he took occasion to inform his master that he could read the New Testament. When he observed that he was glad to hear it, James replied, But in the course of my reading I have discovered that it would be a sin for me to serve you as a slave any longer.

Aye? said his master. Pray tell me how you made that discovery.

Why, the New Testament says we must do as we would be done by, replied James. Now if I submit to let you do by me, as you would not be willing I should do by you, I am as bad as you are. If you will give me a paper that will secure my freedom at the end of seven years, I will serve you faithfully during that time; but I cannot consent to be a slave any longer.

His master refused to consent to this proposition. James then asked permission to go to sea till he could earn money enough to buy his freedom; but this proposal was likewise promptly rejected.

You will get nothing by trying to keep me in slavery, said James; for I am determined to be free. I shall never make you another offer.

He walked off, and his master applied for a warrant to arrest him, and commit him to prison, as a disobedient and refractory slave. When he had been in jail a month, he called to see him, and inquired whether he were ready to return home and go to work.

I am at home, replied James. I expect to end my days here. I never will serve you again as a slave, or pay you one single cent. What do you come here for? There is no use in your coming.

The master was greatly provoked by this conduct, and requested the inspectors to have him put in the cells and kept on short allowance, till he learned to submit. Isaac T. Hopper was one of the board; and as the question was concerning a colored man, they referred it to him. Accordingly, the blacksmith sought an interview with him, and said, Jim has been a faithful industrious fellow; but of late he has taken it into his head that he ought to be free. He strolled off and refused to work, and I had him put in prison. When I called to see him he insulted me grossly, and positively refused to return to his business. I have been referred to you to obtain an order to confine him to the cells on short allowance, till he submits.

Friend Hopper replied, I have been long acquainted with Jim. I was one of his teachers; and I have often admired his punctuality in attending school, and his patient industry in trying to learn.

It has done him no good to learn to read, rejoined the master. On the contrary, it has made him worse.

It has made him wiser, replied Isaac; but I think it has not made him worse. I have scruples about ordering him to be punished; for he professes to be conscientious about submitting to serve as a slave. I have myself suffered because I could not conscientiously comply with military requisitions. The Society of Friends have suffered much in England on account of ecclesiastical demands. I have thus some cause to know how hateful are persecutors, in the sight of God and of men. I cannot therefore be active in persecuting James, or any other man, on account of conscientious scruples.

It is your duty to have him punished, rejoined the blacksmith.

I am the best judge of that, answered Friend Hopper; and I do not feel justified in compelling him to submit to slavery.

The blacksmith was greatly exasperated, and went off, saying, I hope to mercy your daughter will marry a negro.

At the expiration of the term of imprisonment allowed by law, James still refused to return to service, and he was committed for another thirty days. His master called to see him again, and told him if he would return home, and behave well, he should have a new suit of clothes and a Methodist hat. I don't want your new clothes, nor your Methodist hat, replied James. I tell you I never will serve you nor any other man as a slave. I had rather end my days in jail.

His master finding him so intractable, gave up the case as hopeless. When his second term of imprisonment expired, he was discharged, and no one attempted to molest him. He earned a comfortable living, and looked happy and respectable; but his personal appearance was not improved by leaving his beard unshaved. One day, when Friend Hopper met him in the street, he said, Jim, why dost thou wear that long beard? It looks very ugly.

I suppose it does, he replied, but I wear it as a memorial of the Lord's goodness in setting me free; for it was Him that done it.

A Frenchman by the name of Anthony Salignac removed from St. Domingo to New-Jersey, and brought with him several slaves; among whom was Romaine. After remaining in New-Jersey several years, he concluded in 1802, to send Romaine and his wife and child back to the West Indies. Finding him extremely reluctant to go, he put them in prison some days previous, lest they should make an attempt to escape. From prison they were put into a carriage to be conveyed to Newcastle, under the custody of a Frenchman and a constable. They started from Trenton late in the evening, and arrived in Philadelphia about four o'clock in the morning. People at the inn where they stopped remarked that Romaine and his wife appeared deeply dejected. When food was offered they refused to eat. His wife made some excuse to go out, and though sought for immediately after, she was not to be found. Romaine was ordered to get into the carriage. The Frenchman was on one side of him and the constable on the other. Must I go? cried he, in accents of despair. They told him he must. And alone? said he. Yes, you must, was the stern reply. The carriage was open to receive him, and they would have pushed him in, but he suddenly took a pruning knife from his pocket, and drew it three times across his throat with such force that it severed the jugular vein instantly, and he fell dead on the pavement.

As the party had travelled all night, seemed in great haste, and watched their colored companions so closely some persons belonging to the prison where they stopped suspected they might have nefarious business on hand; accordingly, a message was sent to Isaac T. Hopper, as the man most likely to right all the wrongs of the oppressed. He obeyed the summons immediately; but when he arrived, he found the body of poor Romaine weltering in blood on the pavement.

Speaking of this scene forty years later, he said, My whole soul was filled with horror, as I stood viewing the corpse. Reflecting on that awful spectacle, I exclaimed within myself, How long, O Lord, how long shall this abominable system of slavery be permitted to curse the land! My mind was introduced into sympathy with the sufferer. I thought of the agony he must have endured before he could have resolved upon that desperate deed. He knew what he had to expect, from what he had experienced in the West Indies before, and he was determined not to submit to the same misery and degradation again. By his sufferings he was driven to desperation; and he preferred launching into the unknown regions of eternity to an endurance of slavery.

An inquest was summoned, and after a brief consultation, the coroner brought in the following verdict: Suicide occasioned by the dread of slavery, to which the deceased knew himself devoted.

Romaine and his wife were very good looking. They gave indications of considerable intelligence, and had the character of having been very faithful servants. His violent death produced a good deal of excitement among the people generally, and much sympathy was manifested for the wife and child, who had escaped.

The master had procured a certificate from the mayor of Trenton authorizing him to remove his slaves to the West Indies; but the jury of inquest, and many others, were of opinion that his proceedings were not fully sanctioned by law. Accordingly, Friend Hopper, and two other members of the Abolition Society, caused him to be arrested and brought before a magistrate; not so much with the view of punishing him, as with the hope of procuring manumission for the wife and child. In the course of the investigation, the friends of the Frenchman were somewhat violent in his defence. Upon one occasion, several of them took Friend Hopper up and put him out of the house by main force; while at the same time they let their friend out of a back door to avoid him. However, Friend Hopper met him a few minutes after in the street and seized him by the button. Alarmed by the popular excitement, and by the perseverance with which he was followed up, he exclaimed in agitated tones, Mon Dieu! What is it you do want? I will do anything you do want.

I want thee to bestow freedom on that unfortunate woman and her child, replied Friend Hopper.

He promised that he would do so; and he soon after made out papers to that effect, which were duly recorded.

in July, 1802, a man by the name of David Lea, went to Philadelphia to hunt up runaway slaves for their Southern masters. A few days after his arrival, he arrested a colored man, whom he claimed as the property of Nathan Peacock of. Maryland. The man had lived several years in Philadelphia, had taken a lot of ground in the Northern Liberties, and erected a small house on it.

In the course of the investigation, the poor fellow, seeing no chance of escape, acknowledged that he was Mr. Peacock's slave, and had run away from him because he wanted to be free. His friends, being unwilling to see him torn from his wife and children, made an effort to purchase his freedom. After much intreaty, the master named a very large sum as his ransom; and the slave was committed to prison until the affair was settled.

David Lea was a filthy looking man, apparently addicted to intemperance. Friend Hopper asked him if he had any business in Philadelphia. He answered, No. He inquired whether he had any money, and he answered, No. Friend Hopper then said to the magistrate, Here is a stranger without money, who admits that he has no regular means of obtaining a livelihood. Judging from his appearance, there is reason to conclude that he may be a dangerous man. I would suggest whether it be proper that he should be permitted to go at large.

The magistrate interrogated the suspicious looking stranger concerning his business in Philadelphia; and he, being ashamed to acknowledge himself a slave-catcher, returned very evasive and unsatisfactory answers. He was accordingly committed to prison, to answer at the next court of Sessions. It was customary to examine prisoners before they were locked up, and take whatever was in their pockets, to be restored to them whenever they were discharged. David Lea strongly objected to this proceeding; and when they searched him they found more than fifty advertisements for runaway slaves; a fact which made the nature of his business sufficiently obvious. Friend Hopper, had a serious conversation with him in prison, during which he stated that he was to have received forty-five dollars for restoring the slave to his master. Friend Hopper told him if he would give an order upon Mr. Peacock for that amount, to go toward buying the slave's freedom, he should be released from confinement, on condition of leaving the city forthwith. He agreed to do so, and the money was paid. But the slave was found to be in debt more than his small house was worth, and the price for his ransom was so exorbitantly high, that it was impossible to raise it. Under these circumstances, Friend Hopper thought it right to return the forty-five dollars to David Lea; but he declined receiving it. He would take only three dollars, to defray his expenses home; and gave the following written document concerning the remainder:

I request Isaac T. Hopper to pay the money received from the order, which I gave him upon Nathan Peacock, to the managers of the Pennsylvania Hospital, or to any other charitable institution he may judge proper.

His

David X Lea.

Mark.

He was discharged from prison, and the money paid to the Pennsylvania Hospital. Next year, the following item was published in their accounts: Received of David Lea, a noted negro-catcher, by the hands of Isaac T. Hopper, forty-two dollars; he having received forty-five dollars for taking up a runaway slave, of which he afterward repented, and directed the sum to be paid to the Pennsylvania Hospital, after deducting three dollars to pay his expenses home.

The slave was carried back to the South, but escaped again. After encountering many difficulties, he was at last bought for a sum so small, that it was merely nominal; and he afterward lived in Philadelphia unmolested.

it was a common thing for speculators in slaves to purchase runaways for much less than their original value, and take the risk of not being able to catch them. In the language of the trade, this was called buying them running. In April, 1802, Joseph Ennells and Captain Frazer, of Maryland, dealers in slaves, purchased a number in this way, and came to Philadelphia in search of them. There they arrested, and claimed as their property, William Bachelor, a free colored man, about sixty years old. A colored man, whom the slave-dealers brought with them, swore before a magistrate that William Bachelor once belonged to a gang of slaves, of which he was overseer; that he had changed his name, but he knew him perfectly well. William affirmed in the most earnest manner, that he was a free man; but Mr. Ennells and Captain Frazer appeared to be such respectable men, and the colored witness swore so positively, that the magistrate granted a certificate authorizing them to take him to Maryland.

As they left the office, they were met by Dr. Kinley, who knew William Bachelor well, and had a great regard for him. Finding that his protestations had no effect with the Marylanders, he ran with all speed to Isaac T. Hopper, and entering his door almost out of breath, exclaimed, They've got old William Bachelor, and are taking him to the South, as a slave. I know him to be a free man. Many years ago, he was a slave to my father, and he manumitted him. He used to carry me in his arms when I was an infant. He was a most faithful servant.

Friend Hopper inquired which way the party had gone, and was informed that they went toward Gray's Ferry. He immediately started in pursuit, and overtook them half a mile from the Schuylkill. He accosted Mr. Ennells politely, and told him he had made a mistake in capturing William Bachelor; for he was a free man. Ennells drew a pistol from his pocket, and said, We have had him before a magistrate, and proved to his satisfaction that the fellow is my slave. I have got his certificate, and that is all that is required to authorize me to take him home. I will blow your brains out if you say another word on the subject, or make any attempt to molest me.

If thou wert not a coward, thou wouldst not try to intimidate me with a pistol, replied Isaac. I do not believe thou hast the least intention of using it in any other way; but thou art much agitated, and may fire it accidentally; therefore I request thee not to point it toward me, but to turn it the other way. It is in vain for thee to think of taking this old man to Maryland. If thou wilt not return to the city voluntarily, I will certainly have thee stopped at the bridge, where thou wilt be likely to be handled much more roughly than I am disposed to do.

While this controversy was going on, poor William Bachelor was in the greatest anxiety of mind. Oh, Master Hopper, he exclaimed, Don't let them take me! I am not a slave. All the people in Philadelphia know I am a free man. I never was in Maryland in my life.

Ennells, hearing the name, said, So your name is Hopper, is it? I have heard of you. It's time the world was rid of you. You have done too much mischief already.

When Friend Hopper inquired what mischief he had done, he replied, You have robbed many people of their slaves.

Thou art mistaken, rejoined the Quaker. I only prevent Southern marauders from robbing people of their liberty.

After much altercation, it was agreed to return to the city; and William was again brought before the alderman, who had so hastily surrendered him. Dr. Kinley, and so many other respectable citizens, attended as witnesses, that even Ennells himself was convinced that his captive was a free man. He was accordingly set at liberty. It was, however, generally believed that Mr. Ennells knew he was not a slave when he arrested him. It was therefore concluded to prosecute him for attempting to take forcibly a free man out of the state and carry him into slavery.

When Friend Hopper went to his lodgings with a warrant and two constables, for this purpose, he found him writing, with a pistol on each side of him. The moment they entered, he seized a pistol and ordered them to withdraw, or he would shoot them. Friend Hopper replied, These men are officers, and have a warrant to arrest thee for attempting to carry off a free man into slavery. I advise thee to lay down thy pistol and go with us. If not, a sufficient force will soon be brought to compel thee. Remember thou art in the heart of Philadelphia. It is both foolish and imprudent to attempt to resist the law. A pistol is a very unnecessary article here, whatever it may be elsewhere. According to appearances, thou dost not attempt to use it for any other purpose than to frighten people; and thou hast not succeeded in doing that.

Rage could do nothing in the presence of such imperturbable calmness; and Ennells consented to go with them to the magistrate. On the way, he quarrelled with one of the constables, and gave him a severe blow on the face with his cane. The officer knocked him down, and would have repeated the blow, if Friend Hopper had not interfered. Assisting Ennells to rise, he said, Thou hadst better take my arm and walk with me. I think we can agree better.

When the transaction had been investigated before a magistrate, Mr. Ennells was bound over to appear at the next mayor's court and answer to the charge against him. The proprietor of the hotel where he lodged became his bail. Meanwhile, numerous letters came from people of the first respectability in Maryland and Virginia, testifying to his good character. His lawyer showed these letters to Friend Hopper, and proposed that the prosecution should be abandoned. He replied that he had no authority to act in the matter himself; but he knew the Abolition Society had commenced the prosecution from no vindictive feelings, but merely with the view of teaching people to be careful how they infringed on the rights of free men. The committee of that society met the same evening, and agreed to dismiss the suit, Mr. Ennells paying the costs; to which he readily assented.

Levin was a slave in Maryland. He married a free woman and had several children. In 1802, his master sold him to a speculator, who was in the habit of buying slaves for the Southern market. His purchaser took him to his farm in Delaware, and kept him at work till he could get a profitable chance to sell him. His new master was a desperate fellow, and Levin was uneasy with the constant liability of being sold to the far South. He opened his heart to a neighbor, who advised him to escape, and gave him a letter to Isaac T. Hopper. His wife and children had removed to Philadelphia, and there he rejoined them. She took in washing, and he supported himself by sawing wood. He had been there little more than a month, when his master heard where he was, and bargained with the captain of a small sloop to catch him and bring him back to Delaware.

The plan was to seize Levin in his bed, hurry him on board the sloop, and start off immediately, before his family could have time to give the alarm. They would probably have succeeded in this project, if the captain had not drank a little too freely the evening previous, and so forgotten to get some goods on board, as he had promised. Levin was seized and carried off; but the sloop was obliged to wait for the goods, and in the meantime messengers were sent to Isaac T. Hopper, He was in bed, but sprang up the instant he heard a violent knocking at the door. In his haste, he thrust on an old rough coat and hat, which he was accustomed to wear to fires; for, in addition to his various other employments, he belonged to a fire-company. He hurried to the scene of action as quickly as possible, and found that the slave had been conveyed to a small tavern near the wharf where the sloop lay. When the landlord was questioned where the men were who had him in custody, he refused to give any information. But there was a crowd of men and boys; and one of them said, They are up-stairs in the back room. The landlord stood in the door-way, and tried to prevent Friend Hopper from passing in; but he pushed him aside, and went up to the chamber, where he found Levin with his hands tied, and guarded by five or six men. What are you going to do with this man? said he. The words were scarcely out of his mouth, before they seized him violently and pitched him out of the chamber window. He fell upon empty casks, and his mind was so excited, that he was not aware of being hurt. There was no time to be lost; for unless there was an immediate rescue, the man would be forced on board the sloop and carried off. As soon as he could get upon his feet, he went round again to the front door and ascended the stairs; but the door of the chamber was locked. He then returned to the back yard, mounted upon the pent-house, by means of a high board fence, and clambered into the window of a chamber, that opened into the room where the slave was. He entered with an open penknife in his hand, exclaiming, Let us see if you will get me out so soon again! Speaking thus, he instantly cut the cords that bound the slave, and called out, Follow me! He rushed down stairs as fast as he could go, and the slave after him. The guard were utterly astonished at seeing the man return, whom they had just tossed out of an upper window, and the whole thing was done so suddenly, that Friend Hopper and the liberated captive were in the street before they had time to recover their wits.

A rowdy looking crowd of men and boys followed the fugitive and his protector, shouting, Stop thief! Stop thief! until they came to the office of a justice of the peace, half a mile from where they started. The astonished magistrate exclaimed, Good heavens, Mr. Hopper, what brings you here this time of the morning, in such a trim, and with such a rabble at your heels! When the circumstances were briefly explained, he laughed heartily, and said, I don't think they would have treated you so roughly, if they had known who you were. He was informed that Levin was a slave in Maryland, but had been living in Delaware with a man who bought him, and had thus become legally free. Measures were taken to protect him from further aggression, and he was never after molested.

Friend Hopper went home to a late breakfast; and when he attempted to rise from the table, he was seized with violent pains in the back, in consequence of his fall. He never after entirely recovered from the effects of it.

This man was a slave to a Frenchman of the same name, in the Island of Guadaloupe. In consideration of faithful services, his master gave him his freedom, and he opened a barber's shop on his own account. Some time after, he was appointed an officer in the French army, against Victor Hughes. He had command of a fort, and remained in the army until the close of the war. After that period, there were symptoms of insurrection among the colored people, because the French government revoked the decree abolishing slavery in their West India Islands. Etienne was a man of talent, and had acquired considerable influence, particularly among people of his own color. He exerted this influence on the side of mercy, and was the means of saving the lives of several white people who had rendered themselves obnoxious by their efforts to restore slavery.

Affairs were so unsettled in Guadaloupe, that Etienne determined to seek refuge in the United States; and an old friend of his master procured a passport for him. A man by the name of Anslong, then at Guadaloupe, had two slaves, whom he was about to send to the care of Dennis Cottineau, of Philadelphia, with directions to place them on a farm he owned, near Princeton, New-Jersey. When it was proposed that Etienne should take passage in the same vessel, Anslong manifested much interest in his behalf. He promised that he should have his passage free, for services that he might render on board; and he took charge of his passport, saying that he would give it to the captain for safe keeping.

When the vessel arrived at Philadelphia, in March, 1803, Etienne was astonished to find that Anslong had paid his passage, and claimed him as his slave. Dennis Cottineau showed the receipts for the passage money, and written directions to forward the three slaves to New-Jersey. In this dilemma, he asked counsel of a colored man, whom he had formerly known in Guadaloupe; and he immediately conducted him to Isaac T. Hopper. He related the particulars of his case very circumstantially, and the two colored men, who were really the slaves of Anslong, confirmed his statement. When Friend Hopper had cautiously examined them, and cross-examined them, he became perfectly satisfied that Etienne was free. He advised him not to leave the city, and told him to let him know in case Dennis Cottineau attempted to compel him to do so. He accordingly waited upon that gentleman and told him he had resolved not to submit to his orders to go to New-Jersey. Whereupon Cottineau took possession of his trunk, containing his papers and clothing, and caused him to be committed to prison.

A writ of habeas corpus was procured, and the case was brought before Judge Inskeep, of the Court of Common Pleas. It was found to be involved in considerable difficulty. For while several witnesses swore that they knew Etienne in Guadaloupe, as a free man, in business for himself, others testified that they had known him as the slave of Anslong. It was finally referred to the Supreme Court, and Etienne was detained in prison several months to await his trial. Eminent counsel were employed on both sides; Jared Ingersoll for the claimant, and Joseph Hopkinson for the defendant. A certificate was produced from the municipality of Guadaloupe, showing that Etienne had been an officer in the French army for several years, and had filled the station in a manner to command respect. The National Decree abolishing slavery in that Island was also read; but Mr. Ingersoll contended that when the decree was revoked, Etienne again became a slave. In his charge, Judge Shippen said that the evidence for and against freedom was about equally balanced; and in that case, it was always a duty to decide in favor of liberty. The jury accordingly brought in a unanimous verdict that Etienne was free. The court ordered him to refund the twenty dollars, which Anslong had paid for his passage; and he was discharged.

He was a dark mulatto, tall, well-proportioned, and stylish-looking. His handsome countenance had a remarkably bright, frank expression, and there was a degree of courteous dignity in his manner, probably acquired by companionship with military officers. But he belonged to a caste which society has forbidden to develop the faculties bestowed by nature. Such a man might have performed some higher use than cutting hair, if he had lived in a wisely organized state of society. However, he made the best of such advantages as he had. He opened a barber's shop in Philadelphia, and attracted many of the most highly respectable citizens by his perfect politeness and punctuality. The colored people had various benevolent societies in that city, for the relief of the poor, the sick, and the aged, of their own complexion. Etienne Lamaire was appointed treasurer of several of these societies, and discharged his trust with scrupulous integrity.

Isaac T. Hopper had been very active and vigilant in assisting him to regain his freedom; and afterward, when he became involved in some difficulty on account of stolen goods left on his premises without his knowledge, he readily became bail for him. His confidence had not been misplaced; for when the affair had been fully investigated, the recorder declared that Mr. Lamaire had acted like an honest and prudent man, throughout the whole transaction.

His gratitude to Friend Hopper was unbounded, and he missed no opportunity to manifest it. To the day of his death, some fourteen or fifteen years ago, he never would charge a cent for shaving, or cutting the hair of any of the family, children, or grand-children; and on New Year's day, he frequently sent a box of figs, or raisins, or bon-bons, in token of grateful remembrance.

in August, 1804, a colored man about thirty-six years old waited upon the committee of the Abolition Society, and stated that he was born a slave to Pierce Butler, Esq., of South Carolina, and had always lived in his family. During the last eleven years, he had resided most of the time in Pennsylvania. Mr. Butler now proposed taking him to Georgia; but he was very unwilling to leave his wife, she being in delicate health and needing his support. After mature consideration of the case, the committee, believing Ben was legally entitled to freedom, agreed to apply to Judge Inskeep for a writ of habeas corpus; and Isaac T. Hopper was sent to serve it upon Pierce Butler, Esq., at his house in Chestnutstreet.

Being told that Mr. Butler was at dinner, he said he would wait in the hall until it suited his convenience to attend to him. Mr. Butler was a tall, lordly looking man, somewhat imperious in his manners, as slaveholders are wont to be. When he came into the hall after dinners Friend Hopper gave him a nod of recognition, and said, How art thou, Pierce Butler? I have here a writ of habeas corpus for thy Ben.

Mr. Butler glanced over the paper, and exclaimed, Get out of my house, you scoundrel!

Feigning not to hear him, Friend Hopper looked round at the pictures and rich furniture, and said with a smile, Why, thou livest like a nabob here!

Get out of my house, I say! repeated Mr. Butler, stamping violently.

This paper on the walls is the handsomest I ever saw, continued Isaac. Is it French, or English? It surely cannot have been manufactured in this country. Talking thus, and looking leisurely about him as he went, he moved deliberately toward the door; the slaveholder railing at him furiously all the while.

I am a citizen of South Carolina, said he. The laws of Pennsylvania have nothing to do with me. May the devil take all those who come between masters and their slaves; interfering with what is none of their business. Supposing that his troublesome guest was deaf, he put his head close to his ear, and roared out his maledictions in stentorian tones.

Friend Hopper appeared unconscious of all this. When he reached the threshold, he turned round and said, Farewell. We shall expect to see thee at Judge Inskeep's.

This imperturbable manner irritated the hot-blooded slave-holder beyond endurance. He repeated more vociferously than ever, Get out of my house, you scoundrel! If you don't, I'll kick you out. The Quaker walked quietly away, as if he didn't hear a word.

At the appointed time, Mr. Butler waited upon the Judge, where he found Friend Hopper in attendance. The sight of him renewed his wrath. He cursed those who interfered with his property; and taking up the Bible, said he was willing to swear upon that book that he would not take fifteen hundred dollars for Ben. Friend Hopper charged him with injustice in wishing to deprive the man of his legal right to freedom. Mr. Butler maintained that he was as benevolent as any other man.

Thou benevolent! exclaimed Friend Hopper. Why, thou art not even just. Thou hast already sent back into bondage two men, who were legally entitled to freedom by staying in Philadelphia during the term prescribed by law. If thou hadst a proper sense of justice, thou wouldst bring those men back, and let them take the liberty that rightfully belongs to them.

If you were in a different walk of life, I would treat your insult as it deserves, replied the haughty Southerner.

What dost thou mean by that? asked Isaac. Wouldst thou shoot me, as Burr did Hamilton? I assure thee I should consider it no honor to be killed by a member of Congress; and surely there would be neither honor nor comfort in killing thee; for in thy present state of mind thou art not fit to die.

Mr. Butler told the judge he believed that man was either deaf or crazy when he served the writ of habeas corpus; for he did not take the slightest notice of anything that was said to him. Judge Inskeep smiled as he answered, You don't know Mr. Hopper as well as we do

A lawyer was procured for Ben; but Mr. Butler chose to manage his own cause. He maintained that he was only a sojourner in Pennsylvania; that Ben had never resided six months at any one time in that State, except while he was a member of Congress; and in that case, the law allowed him to keep his slave in Pennsylvania as long as he pleased. The case was deemed an important one, and was twice adjourned for further investigation. In the course of the argument, Mr. Butler admitted that he returned from Congress to Philadelphia, with Ben, on the second of January, 1804, and had remained there with him until the writ of habeas corpus was served, on the third of August, the same year. The lawyers gave it as their opinion that Ben's legal right to freedom was too plain to admit of any doubt. They said the law to which Mr. Butler had alluded was made for the convenience of Southern gentlemen, who might need the attendance of their personal slaves, when Congress met in Philadelphia; but since the seat of government was removed, it by no means authorized members to come into Pennsylvania with their slaves, and keep them there as long as they chose. After much debate, the judge gave an order discharging Ben from all restraint, and he walked off rejoicing.

His master was very indignant at the decision, and complained loudly that a Pennsylvania court should presume to discharge a Carolinian slave.

When Ben was set at liberty, he let himself to Isaac W. Morris, then living at his country seat called Cedar Grove, three miles from Philadelphia. Being sent to the city soon after, on some business for his employer, he was attached by the marshall of the United States, on a writ De homine replegiando, at the suit of Mr. Butler, and two thousand dollars were demanded for bail. The idea was probably entertained that so large an amount could not be procured, and thus Ben would again come into his master's possession. But Isaac T. Hopper and Thomas Harrison signed the bail-bond, and Ben was again set at liberty, to await his trial before the Circuit Court of the United States. Bushrod Washington, himself a slaveholder, presided in that court, and Mr. Butler was sanguine that he should succeed in having Judge Inskeep's decision reversed. The case was brought in October, 1806, before Judges Bushrod Washington and Richard Peters. It was ably argued by counsel on both sides. The court discharged Ben, and he enjoyed his liberty thenceforth without interruption.

About the year 1805, a colored man, who belonged to Colonel Hopper, of Maryland, escaped with his wife and children, who were also slaves. He went to Philadelphia and hired a small house in Green's Court, where he lived several months before his master discovered his retreat. As soon as he obtained tidings of him, he went to Philadelphia, and applied to Richard Hunt, a constable who was much employed as a slave hunter. Having procured a warrant, they went together, in search of the fugitives. It was about dusk, and the poor man just returned from daily toil, was sitting peacefully with his wife and children, when in rushed his old master, accompanied by the constable.

With extraordinary presence of mind, the colored man sprang up, and throwing his arms round his master's neck, exclaimed, O, my dear master, how glad I am to see you! I thought I should like to be free; but I had a great deal rather be a slave. I can't get work, and we have almost starved. I would have returned home, but I was afraid you would sell me to the Georgia men. I beg your pardon a thousand times. If you will only forgive me, I will go back with you, and never leave you again.

The master was very agreeably surprised by this reception, and readily promised forgiveness. He was about to dismiss the constable, but the slave urged him to stay a few minutes. I have earned a little money to-day, for a rarity, said he; and I want to go out and buy something to drink; for I suppose old master must be tired. He stepped out, and soon returned with a quantity of gin, with which he liberally supplied his guests. He knew full well that they were both men of intemperate habits; so he talked gaily about affairs in Maryland, making various inquiries concerning what had happened since he left; and ever and anon he replenished their glasses with gin. It was not long before they were completely insensible to all that was going on around them. The colored man and his family then made speedy preparations for departure. While Colonel Hopper and the constable lay in the profound stupor of intoxication, they were on the way to New Jersey, with all their household goods, where they found a safe place of refuge before the rising of the sun.

When consciousness returned to the sleepers, they were astonished to find themselves alone in the house; and as soon as they could rally their wits, they set off in search of the fugitives. After spending several days without finding any track of them, the master called upon Isaac T. Hopper. He complained bitterly of his servant's ingratitude in absconding from him, and of the trick he had played to deceive him. He said he and his family had always been extremely comfortable in Maryland, and it was a great piece of folly in them to have quitted such a happy condition. He concluded by asking for assistance in tracing them; promising to treat them as kindly as if they were his own children, if they would return to him.

Friend Hopper replied, If the man were as happy with thee as thou hast represented, he will doubtless return voluntarily, and my assistance will be quite unnecessary. I do not justify falsehood and deception; but I am by no means surprised at them in one who has always been a slave, and had before him the example of slaveholders. Why thou shouldst accuse him of ingratitude, is more than I can comprehend. It seems to me that he owes thee nothing. On the contrary, I should suppose that thou wert indebted to him; for I understand that he has served thee more than thirty years without wages. So far from helping thee to hunt the poor fugitives, I will, with all my heart, do my utmost to keep them out of thy grasp.

Have you seen my man? inquired the slaveholder.

He came to me when he left his own house in Green's Court, replied Friend Hopper; and I gave him such advice on that occasion, as I thought proper. Thou art the first slaveholder I ever met with bearing my name. Perhaps thou hast assumed it, as a means of gaining the confidence of colored people, to aid thee in recapturing the objects of thy avarice.

The Colonel replied that it was really his name, and departed without having gained much satisfaction from the interview. He remained in Philadelphia a week or ten days, where he was seized with mania a potu. He was carried home in a straight jacket, where he soon after died.

A few months after these transactions, the slave called to see Friend Hopper. He laughed till he could hardly stand, while he described the method he had taken to elude his old master, and the comical scene that followed with him and the constable. I knew his weak side, said he. I knew where to touch him.

Friend Hopper inquired whether he was not aware that it was wrong to tell falsehoods, and to get men drunk.

I suppose it was wrong, he replied. But liberty is sweet; and none of us know what we would do to secure it, till we are tried.

He afterward returned to Philadelphia, where he supported his family comfortably, and remained unmolested.

In 1795, James escaped from bondage in Maryland, and went to Philadelphia, where he soon after married. He remained undisturbed for ten years, during which time he supported himself and family comfortably by sawing wood. But one day, in the year 1805, his master called to see him, accompanied by two other men, who were city constables. He appeared to be very friendly, asked James how he was getting along, and said he was glad to see him doing so well. At last, he remarked, As you left my service without leave, I think you ought to make me some compensation for your time. Autumn is now coming on, and as that is always a busy season for wood-sawyers, perhaps you can make me a small payment at that time.

This insidious conversation threw James completely off his guard, and he promised to make an effort to raise some money for his master. As soon as he had said enough to prove that he was his bondsman, the slaveholder threw off the mask of kindness, and ordered the constables to seize and hand-cuff him. His wife and children shrieked aloud, and Isaac T. Hopper, who happened to be walking through the street at the time, hastened to ascertain the cause of such alarming sounds. Entering the house, he found the colored man hand-cuffed, and his wife and children making the loud lamentations, which had arrested his attention. The poor woman told how her husband had been duped by friendly words, and now he was to be torn from his family and carried off into slavery. Friend Hopper's feelings were deeply affected at witnessing such a heartrending scene, and he exerted his utmost eloquence to turn the master from his cruel purpose. The wife and children wept and entreated also; but it was all in vain. He replied to their expostulations by ridicule, and proceeded to hurry his victim off to prison. The children clung round Friend Hopper's knees, crying and sobbing, and begging that he would not let those men take away their father. But the fact that the poor fellow had acknowledged himself a slave rendered resistance hopeless. He was taken before a magistrate, and thence to prison.

Friend Hopper was with him when his master came the next day to carry him away. With a countenance expressive of deepest anguish, the unhappy creature begged to speak a word in private, before his master entered. When Friend Hopper took him into an adjoining room, he exclaimed in an imploring tone, Can't you give me some advice? Agitated by most painful sympathy, the Friend knew not what to answer. After a moment's hesitation, he said, Don't try to run away till thou art sure thou hast a good chance. This was all he could do for the poor fellow. He was obliged to submit to seeing him bound with cords, put into a carriage, and driven off like a sheep to the slaughter-house. He was conveyed to Maryland and lodged in jail. Several weeks after, he was taken thence and sold to a speculator, who was making up a coffle of slaves for the far South. After crossing the Susquehanna, they stopped at a miserable tavern, where the speculator and his companions drank pretty freely, and then began to amuse themselves by shooting at a mark. They placed the slave by the tavern door, where they could see him. While he sat there, thinking of his wife and children, feeling sad and forlorn beyond description, he noticed that a fisherman drew near the shore with a small boat, to which was fastened a rope and a heavy stone, to supply the place of an anchor. When he saw the man step out of the boat and throw the stone on the ground, Friend Hopper's parting advice instantly flashed through his mind. Hardship, scanty food, and above all, continual distress of mind, had considerably reduced his flesh. He looked at his emaciated hands, and thought it might be possible to slip them through his iron cuffs. He proceeded cautiously, and when he saw that his guard were too busy loading their pistols to watch him, he released himself from his irons by a violent effort, ran to the river, threw the stone anchor into the boat, jumped in, and pushed for the opposite shore. The noise attracted the attention of his guard, who threatened him with instant death if he did not return. They loaded their pistols as quickly as possible, and fired after him, but luckily missed their aim. James succeeded in reaching the opposite side of the river, where he set the boat adrift, lest some one should take it back and enable them to pursue him. He bent his course toward Philadelphia, and on arriving there, went directly to Friend Hopper's house. He had become so haggard and emaciated, that his friend could hardly believe it was James Davis who stood before him. He said he dared not go near his home, and begged that some place might be provided where he could meet his wife and children in safety. This was accomplished, and Friend Hopper was present when the poor harassed fugitive was restored to his family. He described the scene as affecting beyond description. The children, some of whom were very small, twined their little arms round him, eagerly inquiring, Where have you been? How did you get away? and his wife sobbed aloud, while she hugged the lost one to her heart.

The next morning he was sent to Bucks County in a market wagon. Some friends there procured a small house for him, and his family soon joined him. He was enabled to earn a comfortable living, and his place of retreat was never afterward discovered by enemies of the human family.

A very light mulatto girl, named Fanny, as slave to the widow of John Sears, in Maryland. When about twenty-four years old, she escaped to Philadelphia, and lived in the family of Isaac W. Morris, where she was known by the assumed name of Mary Holliday. She was honest, prudent, and industrious, and the family became much attached to her. She had not been there many months when her mistress obtained tidings of her, and went to Philadelphia, accompanied by a man named Dutton. She was arrested on the seventh of June, 1805 and taken before Matthew Lawler, who was then mayor. Isaac W. Morris immediately waited on Isaac T. Hopper to inform him of the circumstance, and they proceeded together to the mayor's office.

Dutton, being examined as a witness, testified that he knew a mulatto named Fanny, who belonged to Mrs. Sears, and he believed the woman present, called Mary Holliday, was—that person. Mary denied that she was the slave of the claimant, or that her name was Fanny; but her agitation was very evident, though she tried hard to conceal it.

Friend Hopper remarked to the mayor, This case requires testimony as strong as if the woman were on trial for her life, which is of less value than liberty. I object to the testimony as insufficient; for the witness cannot say positively that he knows she is the same person, but only that he believes so. Wouldst thou consider such evidence satisfactory in the case of a white person?

The mayor who was not friendly to colored people, replied, I should not; but I consider it sufficient in such cases as these.

How dark must the complexion be, to justify thee in receiving such uncertain evidence? inquired Friend Hopper.

The mayor pointed to the prisoner and s dark as that woman.

What wouldst thou think of such testimony in case of thy own daughter? rejoined Friend Hopper There is very little difference between her complexion ad that of the woman now stand before thee.

He made no reply, but over-ruled the objection to the evidence. He consented, however, to postpone the case three days, to give time to procure testimony in her favor.

Isaac W. Morris soon after called upon Friend Hopper and said, Mary has acknowledged to us that her name is Fanny, and that she belongs to Mrs. Sears. My family are all very much attached to her, and they cannot bear the thought of her being carried away into slavery. I will advance three hundred, dollars, if thou wilt obtain her freedom.

Friend Hopper accordingly called upon Mrs. Sears, and after stipulating that nothing said on either side should be made use of in the trial he offered two hundred dollars for a deed of manumission. The offer was promptly rejected. After considerable discussion, thee hundred and fifty dollars were offered; for it was very desirable to have the case settle without being obliged to resort to an expensive and uncertain process of law. Mrs. Sears replied, It is in vain to treat with me on the subject; for I am determined not to sell the woman on any terms. I will take her back to Maryland, and make an example of her.

I hope thou wilt find thyself disappointed, rejoined Friend Hopper. The slaveholder merely answered with a malicious smile, as if perfectly sure of her triumph.

Finding himself disappointed in his attempts to purchase the woman, Friend Hopper resolved to carry the case to a higher court, and accumulate as many legal obstructions as possible. For that purpose, he obtained a writ De homine replegiando, and when the suitable occasion arrived, he accompanied Mary Holliday to the mayor's office, with a deputy sheriff to serve the writ. When the trial came on, he again urged the insufficiency of proof brought by the claimant. The mayor replied, in a tone somewhat peremptory, I have already decided that matter. I shall deliver the slave to her mistress.

Friend Hopper gave the sheriff a signal to serve the writ. He was a novice in the business, but in obedience to the instructions given him, he laid his hand on Mary's shoulder, and said, By virtue of this writ, I replevin this woman, and deliver her to Mr. Hopper.

Her protector immediately said to her, Thou canst now go home with me. But her mistress seized her by the arm, and said she should not go. The mayor was little acquainted with legal forms, beyond the usual routine of city business. He seemed much surprised, and inquired what the writ was.

It is a homine replegiando, replied Friend Hopper.

I don't understand what that means, said the mayor.

It is none the less powerful on that account, rejoined Friend Hopper. It has taken the woman out of thy power, and delivered her to another tribunal.

During this conversation, the mistress kept her grasp upon Mary. Friend Hopper appealed to the mayor, again repeating that the girl was now to await the decision of another court. He accordingly told Mrs. Sears it was necessary to let her go. She asked what was to be done in such a case. The mayor, completely puzzled, and somewhat vexed, replied impatiently, I don't know. You must ask Mr. Hopper. His laws are above mine. I thought I knew something about the business; but it seems I don't.

Mary went home with her protector, and Mrs. Sears employed Alexander J. Dallas as counsel. The case was kept pending in the Supreme Court a long time; for no man understood better than Friend Hopper how to multiply difficulties. Mrs. Sears frequently attended, bringing witnesses with her from Maryland; which of course involved much trouble and expense. After several years, the trial came on; but it was found she had left some of her principal witnesses at home. Most of the forenoon was spent in disputes about points of law, and the admissibility of certain evidence. The court then adjourned to three in the afternoon.

Mrs. Sears was informed that even if the court adjudged Mary to be her slave, Friend Hopper would doubtless fail to produce her, and they would be compelled to go through another process to recover from him the penalty of the bond. She had become exceedingly weary of the law, the trouble and expense of which had far exceeded her expectations. She therefore instructed her lawyer to try to effect a compromise. Friend Hopper, being consulted for this purpose, offered to pay two hundred and fifty dollars for Mary, if the claimant would pay the costs. She accepted the terms, well pleased to escape from further litigation.

When the court met in the afternoon, they were informed that the matter was settled; and the jury with consent of parties, rendered a verdict that Mary was free. By her own earnings, and donations from sympathizing friends, she gradually repaid Isaac W. Morris three hundred dollars toward the sum he had advanced for the expenses of her trial.

In his efforts to protect the rights and redress the wrongs of colored people, Friend Hopper had a zealous and faithful ally in Thomas Harrison, also a member of the Society of Friends. When recounting the adventures they had together, he used to say, That name excites pleasant emotions whenever it occurs to me. I shall always reverence his memory. He was my precursor in Philadelphia, as the friend of the slave, and my coadjutor in scores of cases for their relief. His soul was always alive to the sufferings of his fellow creatures, and dipped into sympathy with the oppressed; not that idle sympathy that can be satisfied with lamenting their condition, and make no exertions for their relief; but sympathy, like the apostle's faith, manifesting itself in works, and extending its influence to all within its reach.

Thomas Harrison as a lively, bustling man, with a roguish twinkle in his eye, and a humorous style of talking. Some Friends, of more quiet temperaments than himself, thought he had more activity than was consistent with dignity. They reminded him that Mary sat still at the feet of Jesus, while Martha was troubled about many things.

All that is very well, replied Thomas; but Mary would have had a late breakfast, after all, if it had not been for Martha.

From among various anecdotes in which Friend Harrison's name occurs, I select the following:

James was a slave to Mr. Mc Calmont of Delaware. In 1805, when he was about thirty years old, he escaped to New-Jersey and let himself out to a farmer. After he had been there a few months, several runaway slaves in his neighborhood were arrested and carried back to the South. This alarmed him, and he became very anxious that some person should advance a sum of money sufficient to redeem him from bondage, which he would bind himself to repay by labor. Finding that his employer abhorred slavery, and was very friendly to colored people, he ventured to open his heart to him; and Isaac T. Hopper was consulted on the subject.

The first step was to write to Mr. Mc Calmont to ascertain what were the lowest terms on which he would manumit his slave. The master soon came in person, accompanied by a Philadelphia merchant, who testified that his friend Mc Calmont was a highly respectable man, and treated his slaves with great kindness. He said James would be much happier with his master than he could be in any other situation, and strongly urged Friend Hopper to tell where he might be found.

He replied, It does not appear that James thought himself so happy, or he would not have left his service. Even if I had no objection to slavery, I should still be bound by every principle of honor not to betray the confidence reposed in me. But feeling as it is well known I do on that subject, I am surprised thou shouldst make such a proposition to me.

They then called upon Thomas Harrison, and tried to enlist him in their favor by repeating how well James had been treated, and how happy he was in slavery. Friend Harrison replied, in his ironical way, O, I know very well that slaves sleep on feather beds, while their master's children sleep on straw; that they eat white bread, and their master's children eat brown. But enclose ten acres with a high wall, plant it with Lombardy poplars and the most beautiful shrubbery, build a magnificent castle in the midst of it, give thee pen, ink, and paper, to write about the political elections in which thou art so much interested, load thee with the best of everything thy heart could desire, still I think thou wouldst want to get out beyond the wall.

The master, being unable to ascertain where his slave could be found, finally informed Friend Hopper that he would manumit him on the receipt of one hundred and fifty dollars. Mr. John Hart, a druggist, generously advanced the sum, and James was indentured to him for the term of five years. Before the contract was concluded, somebody remarked that perhaps he would repeat his old trick of running away. I am not afraid of that, replied Mr. Hart. I will tie him by the teeth; meaning he would feed him well.

In fact, James now appeared quite satisfied. His new master and mistress were kind to him, and he was faithful and diligent in their service. When a year or two had elapsed, he asked permission to visit his old master and fellow servants. Mr. Hart kept a carriage, which he seldom used in the winter, and he told James he might take one of the horses. This suited his taste exactly. He mounted a noble looking animal, with handsome saddle and bridle, and trotted off to Delaware. When he arrived, he tied the horse and went into the kitchen. Mr. Mc Calmont coming home soon after, and observing a very fine horse in his yard, supposed he must have some distinguished visitor. Upon inquiry, he was informed that Jim rode the horse there, and was then in the kitchen. He went out and spoke very pleasantly to his former slave, and said he was glad to see him. Being informed that the horse belonged to his new master, Mr. Hart, who had kindly permitted him to use it, he ordered the animal to be taken to the stable and supplied with hay and oats. James was treated kindly by all the family, and spent two days very agreeably. When about to take leave, Mr. Mc Calmont said to him, Well, Jim, I am glad to find that you have a good master, and are happy. But I had rather you would not come here again in the style you now have; for it will make my people dissatisfied.

James returned much pleased with his excursion, and soon went to give Friend Hopper an account of it. He served out his time faithfully, and remained afterward in the same family, as a hired servant.

William was a slave in Virginia. When about twenty-five years old, he left his master and went to Philadelphia with two of his fellow slaves; giving as a reason that he wanted to try whether he could n't do something for himself. When they had been absent a few months, their master sold them running to Mr. Joseph Ennells, a speculator in slaves, who procured a warrant and constable and repaired to Philadelphia in search of his newly acquired property. They arrived on Saturday, a day when many people congregated at the horse-market. Ennells

After spending some days in search of them, Ennells called upon Isaac T. Hopper and Thomas Harrison, and offered to sell them very cheap if they would hunt them up. Friend Hopper immedilately recognized him as the man who had threatened to blow out his brains, when he went to the rescue of old William Bachelor; and he thus addressed him: I would advise thee to go home and obtain thy living in some more honorable way; for the trade in which thou art engaged is a most odious one. On a former occasion thou wert treated with leniency; and I recommend a similar course to thee with regard to these poor fugitives.

The speculator finally agreed to sell the three men for two hundred and fifty dollars. The money was paid, and he returned home. In the course of a few days William Anderson called upon Isaac T. Hopper for advice. He informed him that Thomas Harrison had bought him and his companions, and told him he had better find the other two, and go and make a bargain with Friend Harrison concerning the payment. He called accordingly, and offered to bind himself as a servant until he had earned enough to repay the money that had been advanced; but he said he had searched in vain for the two companions of his flight. They had left the city abruptly, and he could not ascertain where they had gone. Thomas Harrison said to him, Perhaps thou art not aware that thou hast a legal claim to thy freedom already; for I am a citizen of Pennsylvania, and the laws here do not allow any man to hold a slave.

William replied, I am too grateful for the kindness you have shown me, to feel any disposition to take advantage of that circumstance. If I live, you shall never lose a single cent on my account.

He was soon after indentured to Mr. Jacob Downing a respectable merchant of Philadelphia, who agreed to pay one hundred and twenty-five dollars agreed to pay one half of the money adfor his services. This was half of the money advanced for all of them. William served the stipulated time faithfully. His master said he never had a more honest and useful servant; and he on his part always spoke of the family with great respect and affection.

When the time of his indenture had expired, he called upon his old benefactor, Thomas Harrison. After renewing his grateful acknowledgments for the service rendered to him in extremity, he inquired whether anything had ever been heard from the two other fugitives. Being answered in the negative, he replied, Well, Mr. Harrison, you paid two hundred and fifty dollars for us, and you have not been able to find my companions. You have received only one hundred and twenty-five dollars. It is not right that you should lose by your kindness to us. I am willing you should bind me again to make up the balance.

Honest fellow! Honest fellow! exclaimed Thomas Harrison. Go about thy business. Thou hast paid thy share, and I have no further claim upon thee. Conduct as well as thou hast done since I have known thee, and thou wilt surely prosper.

Friend Hopper happened to be present at this interview; and he used to say, many years afterward, that he should never forget how it made his heart glow to witness such honorable and disinterested conduct. The two other fugitives were never heard of, and Friend Harrison of course lost one hundred and twenty-five dollars. William frequently called upon his benefactors, and always conducted in the most exemplary manner.

Sarah Roach, a light mulatto, was sold by her master in Maryland to a man residing in Delaware. The laws of Delaware prohibit the introduction of slaves, unless brought into the state by persons intending to reside there permanently. If brought under other circumstances they become free. Sarah remained with her new master several years before she was made aware of this fact. Meanwhile, she gave birth to a daughter, who was of course free, if the mother was free at the time she was born. At last, some one informed the bondwoman that her master had no legal claim to her services. She then left him and went to Philadelphia. But she remained ignorant of the fact that her daughter was free, in consequence of the universal maxim of slave law, that the child follows the condition of the mother.

When the girl was about sixteen years old, she absconded from Delaware, and went to her mother, who inquired of Isaac T. Hopper what was the best method of eluding the vigilance of her master. After ascertaining the circumstances, he told her that her daughter was legally free, and instructed her to inform him in case any person attempted to arrest her.

Her claimant soon discovered her place of abode, and in the summer of 1806 went in pursuit of her. Being aware that his claim had no foundation in law, he did not attempt to establish it before any magistrate, but seized the girl and hurried her on board a sloop, that lay near Spruce-street wharf, unloading staves. Fearing she would be wrested from him by the city authorities, he removed the vessel from the wharf and anchored near an island between Philadelphia and New-Jersey. A boat was placed alongside the sloop, into which the cargo was unloaded and carried to the wharf they had left.

The mother went to Isaac T. Hopper in great distress, and informed him of the transaction. He immediately made application to an alderman, who issued a process to have the girl brought before him. Guided by two colored men, who had followed her when she was carried off, he immediately proceeded to the sloop, accompanied by an officer. When the claimant saw them appoaching, he went into the cabin for his gun, and threatened them with instant death if they came near his vessel. Friend Hopper quietly told the men to go ahead and pay no attention to his threats. When they moored their boat alongside of the one into which they were unloading staves, he became very vociferous, and pointing his gun at Friend Hopper's breast, swore he should not enter the vessel.

He replied, I have an officer with me, and I have authority from a magistrate to bring before him a girl now in thy vessel. I think we are prepared to show that she is free.

The man still kept his gun pointed, and told them to beware how they attempted to come on board.

If thou shouldst injure any person, it would be impossible for thee to escape, replied Friend Hopper; for thou art a hundred and twenty miles from the Capes, with hundreds of people on the wharf to witness thy deed.

While speaking thus, he advanced toward him until he came near enough to sieze hold of the gun and turn it aside. The man made a violent jerk to wrest the weapon from him, and still clinging fast hold of it he was pulled on board. In the scuffle to regain possession of his gun, the man trod upon a roller on the deck, lost his balance, and fell sprawling on his back. Friend Hopper seized that opportunity to throw the gun overboard. Whereupon, a sailor near by siezed an axe and came toward him in a great rage. Even if the courageous Quaker had wished to escape, there was no chance to do so. He advanced to meet the sailor, and looking him full in the face said, Thou foolish fellow, dost thou think to frighten me with that axe, when thy companion could not do it with his gun? Put the axe down. Thou art resisting legal authority, and liable to suffer severely for thy conduct.

In a short time they became more moderate, but denied that the girl was on board. The vessel was nearly emptied of her cargo, and Friend Hopper peeping into the hold found her stowed away in a remote part of it. He brought her on deck and took her with him into the boat, of which his companions, including the constable, had retained possession.

The girl was uncommonly handsome, with straight hair and regular European features. No one could have guessed from her countenance that any of her remote ancestors were Africans.

The claimant did not make his appearance at the alderman's office. A warrant was obtained charging him and the sailor with having resisted an officer in the discharge of his duty. Isaac T. Hopper returned to the sloop with a constable and brought the two men before a magistrate to answer to this charge. They did not attempt to deny the truth of it, but Tried to excuse themselves on the plea that they resisted an attempt to take away their proper. Of course, this was of no avail, and they were obliged to enter into bonds for their appearance at court. Being strangers in the city, it was difficult to obtain bail, and there seemed to be no alternative but a prison. However, as there must unavoidably be considerable trouble and delay in procuring all the necessary evidence concerning the birth of the alleged slave, her friends agreed to dismiss them, if they would pay all expenses, give each of the officers five dollars, and manumit the girl. Under existing circumstances they were glad to avail themselves of the offer; and so the affair was settled.

A man by the name of Daniel Godwin, in the lower part of Delaware, had a business of buying slaves running; taking the risk of losing the small sums paid for them under such circumstances. In the year 1806, he purchased in this way a slave named Ezekiel, familiarly called Zeke. He went to Philadelphia, and called on Isaac T. Hopper; thinking if he knew where the man was, he would be glad to have his freedom secured on moderate terms. While they Were talking together, a black man happened to walk in, and leaning on the counter looked up in Mr. Godwin's face all the time he was telling the story of his bargain When he had done speaking, he said, How do you do, Mr. Godwin? Don't you know me?

The speculator answered that he did not.

Then you don't remember a man that lived with your neighbor, Mr.——? continued he.

Mr. Godwin was at first puzzled to recollect whom he meant; but when he had specified the time, and various other particulars, he said he did remember such a person.

Well answered the black man, I am he; and I am Zeke's brother.

The Speculator inquired whether he knew where he was. he replied, O yes, Mr. Godwin, I know where he is, well enough. But I'm sorry you've bought Zeke. You'll never make anything out of him. A bad speculation, Mr. Godwin.

Why, what's the matter with Zeke? asked the trader.

O, these blacks come to Philadelphia and they get into bad company, replied he. They are afraid to be seen in the day-time, and so they go prowling about in the night. I'm very sorry you've bought Zeke. He'll never do you one cent's worth of good. A bad speculation, Mr. Godwin.

The prospect seemed rather discouraging, and the trader said, Come now, suppose you buy Zeke yourself? I'll sell him low.

If I bought him, I should only have to maintain him into the bargain, replied the black man. He's my brother, to be sure; but then he'll never be good for anything.

Perhaps he would behave better if he was free, urged Mr. Godwin.

That's the only chance there is of his ever doing any better, responded the colored man. But I'm very doubtful about it. If I should make up my mind to give him a chance, what would you be willing to sell him for?

The speculator named one hundred and fifty dollars.

Poh! Poh! exclaimed the other. I tell you Zeke will never be worth a cent to you or anybody else. A hundred and fifty dollars, indeed!

The parley continued some time longer, and the case seemed such a hopeless one, that Mr. Godwin finally agreed to take sixty dollars. The colored man went off, and soon returned with the required sum. Isaac T. Hopper drew up a deed of manumission, in which the purchaser requested him to insert that Zeke was now commonly called Samuel Johnson. The money was paid, and the deed signed with all necessary formalities. When the business was entirely completed, the colored man said, Zeke is now free is he? When Mr. Godwin answered Yes, he turned to Friend Hopper and repeated the question. Zeke is free, and nobody can take him; can they, Mr. Hopper? If he was here, he would be in no danger; would he?

Friend Hopper replied, Wherever Zeke may now be, I assure thee he is free.

Being thus assured, the black man made a low bow, and with a droll expression of countenance said I hope you are very well, Mr. Godwin I am happy to see you, sir. I am Zeke!

The speculator, finding himself thus outwitted flew into a violent rage. He seized Zeke by the collar, and began to threaten and abuse him. But the colored man shook his fist at him, and said, If you don't let me go, Mr. Godwin, I'll knock you down. I'm a free citizen of these United States; and I won't be insulted in this way by anybody.

Friend Hopper interfered between them, and Mr. Godwin agreed to go before a magistrate to have the case examined. When the particulars had been recounted, the magistrate answered, You have been outwitted, sir. Zeke is now as free as any man in this room.

There was something so exhilarating in the consciousness of being his own man, that Zeke began to feel his oats, as the saying is. He said to the magistrate, May it please your honor to grant me a warrant against Mr. Godwin? He violently seized me by the collar; thus committing assault and battery on a free citizen of these United States.

Friend Hopper told him he had better be satisfied with that day's work, and let Mr. Godwin go home. He yielded to this expostulation, though he might have made considerable trouble by insisting upon retaliation.

A Frenchman named M. Bouilla resided in Spring Garden, Philadelphia, in the year 1806. He and a woman, who had lived with him some time, had in their employ a mulatto girl of nine years old, called Amy. Dreadful stories were in circulation concerning their cruel treatment to this child; and compassionate neighbors had frequently solicited Friend Hopper's interference. After a while, he heard they were about to send her into the country; and fearing she might be sold into slavery, he called upon M. Bouilla to inquire whither she was going. As soon as he made known his business, the door was unceremoniously slammed in his face and locked. A note was then sent to the Frenchman, asking for a friendly interview; but he returned a verbal answer. Tell Mr. Hopper to mind his own business.

Considering it his business to protect an abused child, he applied to a magistrate for a warrant, and proceeded to the house, accompanied by his friend Thomas Harrison and a constable. As soon as they entered the door, M. Bouilla ran up-stairs, and arming himself with a gun, threatened to shoot whoever advanced toward him. Being blind, however, he could only point the gun at random in the direction of their voices, or of any noise which might reach his ear. The officer refused to attempt his arrest under such peril; saying, he was under no obligation to risk his life. Friend Hopper expostulated with the Frenchman, explained the nature of their errand, and urged him to come down and have the matter inquired into in an amicable way. But he would not listen, and persisted in swearing he would shoot the first person who attempted to come near him. At last, Friend Hopper took off his shoes, stepped up-stairs very softly and quickly, and just as the Frenchman became aware of his near approach, he seized the gun and held it over his shoulder. It discharged instantly, and shattered the plastering of the stairway, making it fly in all directions. There arose a loud cry, Mr. Hopper's killed! Mr. Hopper's killed!

The gun being thus rendered harmless, the Frenchman was soon arrested, and they all proceeded to the the magistrate's office, accompanied by several of the neighbors. There was abundant evidence that the child had been half starved, unmercifully beaten, and tortured in various ways. Indeed, she was such a poor, emaciated, miserable looking object, that her appearance was of itself enough to prove the cruel treatment she had received. When the case had been fully investigated, the magistrate ordered her to be consigned to the care of Isaac T. Hopper, who hastened home with her, being anxious lest his wife should accidentally hear the rumor that he had been shot.

He afterwards ascertained that Amy was daughter of the white woman who had aided in thus shamefully abusing her. He kept her in his family till she became well and strong, and then bound her to one of his friends in the country to serve till she was eighteen. She grew up a very pretty girl, and deported herself to the entire satisfaction of the family. When her period of service had expired, she returned to Philadelphia, where her conduct continued very exemplary. She frequently called to see Friend Hopper, and often expressed gratitude to him for having rescued her from such a miserable condition.

Manuel was an active, intelligent slave in North Carolina. His master, Mr. Joseph Spear, a tar manufacturer, employed him to transport tar, and other produce of the place, down Tar river to Tarborough. After laboring several years for another's benefit, Manuel began to feel anxious to derive some advantage from his own earnings. He had children, and it troubled him to think that they must live and die in slavery. He was acquainted with a colored man in the neighborhood, named Samuel Curtis, who had a certificate of freedom drawn up by the clerk of the county, and duly authenticated, with the county seal attached to it. Manuel thought he could easily pass for Samuel Curtis, and make his way to Philadelphia, if he could only obtain possession of this valuable paper. He accordingly made him a confidant of his plans, and he bought the certificate for two dollars.

The next time Manuel was sent to Tarborough, he delivered the cargo as usual, then left the boat and started for the North. He arrived safely in Philadelphia, where he assumed the name of Samuel Curtis, and earned a living by sweeping chimneys. In a short time, he had several boys in his employ, and laid by money. When he had been going on thus for about two years, he was suddenly met in the street by one of the neighbors of his old master, who immediately arrested him as a fugitive from slavery. He was taken before Robert Wharton, then mayor. The stranger declared that the colored man he had seized was a slave, belonging to one of his near neighbors in North Carolina. Samuel denied that he was a slave, and showed his certificate of freedom. The stranger admitted that the document was authentic, but he insisted that the real name of the person who had possession of the paper was Manuel. He said he knew him perfectly well, and also knew Samuel Curtis, who was a free colored man in his neighborhood. The mayor decided that he could not receive parole evidence in contradiction to a public record; and Samuel Curtis was set at liberty.

To the honor of this worthy magistrate be it recorded that during forty years whilst he was alderman in Philadelphia, and twenty years that he was mayor, he never once surrendered a fugitive slave to his claimant, though frequently called upon to do so. He used to tell Friend Hopper that he could not conscientiously do it; that he would rather resign his office. He often remarked that the Declaration, All men are created equal; they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; appeared to him based on a sacred principle, paramount to all law.

When Samuel Curtis was discharged, he deemed it expedient to go to Boston; thinking he might be safer there than in Philadelphia. But he had not been there many days, before he met the same man who had previously arrested him; and he by no means felt sure that the mayor of that city would prove as friendly to the colored people as was Robert Wharton. To add to his troubles, some villain broke open his trunk while he was absent from his lodgings, and stole a hundred and fifty dollars of his hard earnings. The poor fugitive began to think there was no safe resting-place for him on the face of the earth. He returned to Philadelphia disconsolate and anxious. He was extremely diligent and frugal, and every year he contrived to save some money, which he put out at interest in safe hands. At last, he was able to purchase a small lot in Powell-street, on which he built a good three-story brick house, where he lived with his apprentices, and let some of the rooms at a good profit.

In 1807, he called upon Friend Hopper and told him that his eagerness to make money had chiefly arisen from a strong desire to redeem his children from bondage. But being a slave himself, he said it was impossible for him to go in search of them, unless his own manumission could be obtained. It happened that a friend of Isaac T. Hopper was going to North Carolina. He agreed to see the master and ascertain what could be done. Mr. Spear never expected to hear from his slave again, and the proposition to buy him after so many years had elapsed, seemed like finding a sum of money. He readily agreed to make out a bill of sale for one hundred dollars, which was immediately paid.

The first use Samuel Curtis made of the freedom he had purchased was to set off for the South in search of his children. To protect himself as much as possible from the perils of such an undertaking, he obtained a certificate of good character, signed by the mayor of Philadelphia, and several of the most respectable citizens. They also gave him a pass stating the object of his journey, and commending him to the protecting kindness of those among whom he might find it necessary to travel. With these he carefully packed his deed of manumission, and set forth on his errand of paternal love. When he went to take leave of Friend Hopper, he was much agitated. He clasped his hand fervently, and the tears flowed fast down his weather-beaten cheeks. I know I am going into the midst of danger, said he. Perhaps I maybe seized and sold into slavery. But I am willing to hazard everything, even my own liberty, if I can only secure the freedom of my children. I have been a slave myself, and I know what slaves suffer. Farewell! Farewell, my good friend. May God bless you, and may he restore to me my children. Then I shall be a happy man.

He started on his journey, and went directly to his former master to obtain information. He did not at first recognize his old servant. But when he became convinced that the person before him was the identical Manuel, who had formerly been his slave, he seemed pleased to see him, entertained him kindly, and inquired how he had managed to get money enough to buy his children.

The real Samuel Curtis, who sold him the certificate of freedom, was dead; and since he could no longer be endangered by a statement of particulars, the spurious Samuel related the whole story of his escape, and of his subsequent struggles; concluding the whole by expressing an earnest wish to find his children.

Mr. Spear had sold them, some years before, to a man in South Carolina; and thither the father went in search of them. On arriving at the designated place, he found they had been sold into Georgia. He went to Georgia, and was told they had been sold to a man in Tennessee. He followed them into Tennessee, but there he lost all track of them. After the most patient and diligent search, he was compelled to return home without further tidings of them.

As soon as he arrived in Philadelphia, he went to Isaac T. Hopper to tell how the cherished plan of his life had been frustrated. He seemed greatly dejected, and wept bitterly. I have deprived myself of almost every comfort, said he; that I might save money to buy my poor children. But now they are not to be found, and my money gives me no satisfaction. The only consolation I have is the hope that they are all dead.

The bereaved old man never afterward seemed to take comfort in anything. He sunk into a settled melancholy, and did not long survive his disappointment.

in the winter of 1808, several Virginia planters went to Philadelphia to search for eleven slaves, who had absconded. Most of these colored people had been there several years, and some of them had acquired a little property. Their masters had ascertained where they lived, and one evening, when they returned from their acustomed labors, unconscious of danger impending over them, they were pounced upon suddenly and conveyed to prison. It was late at night when this took place, and Friend Hopper did not hear of it till the next morning.

He had risen very early, according to his usual custom, and upon opening his front door he found a letter slipped under it, addressed to him. This anonymous epistle informed him that eleven slaves had been arrested, and were to be tried before Alderman Douglass that morning; that the owners were gentlemen of wealth and high standing, and could produce the most satisfactory evidence that the persons arrested were their slaves; consequently Friend Hoppers attendance could be of no possible benefit to them. It went on to say that the magistrate understood his business, and could do justice without his assistance; but if, notwithstanding this warning, he did attend at the magistrate's office, for the purpose of wresting from these gentlemen their property, his house would be burned while himself and family were asleep in it, and his life would certainly be taken. The writer invoked the most awful imprecations upon himself if he did not carry these threats into execution.

Friend Hopper was too much accustomed to such epistles to be disturbed by them. He put it in his pocket, and said nothing about it, lest his wife should be alarmed. A few minutes afterward, he received a message from some colored people begging him to go to the assistance of the fugitives; and when the trial came on, he was at the alderman's office, of course. Richard Rush was counsel for the claimants. The colored prisoners had no lawyer. This examination was carried on with much earnestness and excitement. One of the Virginians failed in proof as to the identity of the person he claimed. In the case of several others, the power of attorney was pronounced informal by the magistrate. After a long protracted controversy, during which Friend Hopper threw as many difficulties in the way as possible, it was decided that four of the persons in custody were proved to be slaves, and the other seven were discharged. This decision greatly exasperated the Southerners, and they vented their anger in very violent expressions. The constables employed were unprincipled men, ready for any low business, provided it were profitable. The man-hunters had engaged to give them fifty dollars for each slave they were enabled to take back to Virginia; but they were to receive nothing for those who were discharged. Hence, their extreme anxiety to avoid

Friend Hopper's interference. When they found that more than half of their destined prey had slipped through their fingers, they were furious. One of them especially raved like a madman. He had written the anonymous letter, and was truly a lewd fellow of the baser sort. Friend Hopper's feelings were too much interested for those who had been decreed slaves, to think anything of the abuse bestowed on himself. All of them, three men and one woman, were married to free persons; and it was heart-breaking to hear their lamentations at the prospect of being separated forever. There was a general manifestation of sympathy, and even the slaveholders were moved to compassion. Friend Hopper opened a negotiation with them in behalf of the Abolition Society, and they finally consented to manumit them all for seven hundred dollars. The money was advanced by a Friend named Thomas Phipps, and the poor slaves returned to their humble homes rejoicing. They repaid every farthing of the money, and ever after manifested the liveliest gratitude to their benefactors.

When the anger of the Southerners had somewhat cooled, Friend Hopper invited them to come and see him. They called, and spent the evening in discussing the subject of slavery. When they parted from the veteran abolitionist, it was with mutual courtesy and kindliness. They said they respected him for acting so consistently with his own principles; and if they held the same opinions, they should doubtless pursue the same course.

This was a polite concession, but it was based on a false foundation; for it assumed that it was a mere matter of opinion whether slavery were right or wrong; whereas it is a palpable violation of immutable principles of justice. They might as well have made the same remark about murder or robbery, if they had lived where a selfish majority were strong enough to get those crimes sanctioned by law and custom. The Bedouin considers himself no robber because he forcibly takes as much toll as he pleases from all who pass through the desert. His ancestors established the custom, and he is not one whit the less an Arab gentleman, because he perpetuates their peculiar institution. Perhaps he also would say that if he held the same opinions as more honest Mahometans, he would do as they do. In former days, custom made it honorable to steal a. neighbor's cattle, on the Scottish border; as many Americans now deem it respectable to take children from poor defenceless neighbors, and sell them like sheep in the market. Sir Walter Scott says playfully, I have my quarters and emblazonments free of all stain but Border Theft and High Treason, which I hope are gentlemanlike crimes. Yet the stealing of cattle does not now seem a very noble achievement in the eyes of honorable Scotchmen How will the stealing of children, within bounds prescribed by law and custom, appear to future generations of Americans?

A planter in Virginia, being pressed for money, sold one of his bondwomen, of sixteen years old, to a speculator who was buying up slaves for the markets of the South and South-west. The girl was uncommonly handsome, with smooth hair, and a complexion as light as most white people. Her new owner, allured by her beauty, treated her with great kindness, and made many flattering promises. She understood his motives, and wished to escape from the degradation of such a destiny as he had in store for her. In order to conciliate her good will, he imposed few restraints upon her. The liberty thus allowed gave her a favorable opportunity to abscond, which she did not fail to improve. She travelled to Philadelphia without encountering any difficulties on the road; for her features and complexion excited no suspicion of her being a fugitive slave. She maintained herself very comfortably by her own industry, and after a time married a light mulatto, who was a very sober industrious man. He was for many years employed by Joshua Humphreys, a ship-carpenter of great respectability in the District of Southwark. By united industry and frugality they were enabled to build a small house on a lot they had taken on ground rent. The furniture was simple, but extremely neat, and all the floors were carpeted. Every thing indicated good management and domestic comfort.

She had been in Philadelphia thirteen years, and was the mother of a promising family, when in 1808 she was arrested by her last master, as a fugitive slave. The Virginian who sold her, and two other persons from the South, attended as witnesses. Isaac T. Hopper also attended, with his trusty friend Thomas Harrison. When the witnesses were examined, her case appeared utterly hopeless; and in private conversation with Friend Hopper she admitted that she was a slave to the man who claimed her. Mr Humphreys, pitying the distress of his honest, industrious workman, offered to advance one hundred dollars toward purchasing her freedom. But when Isaac T. Hopper and Thomas Harrison attempted to negotiate with the claimant for that purpose, he treated all their offers with the rudest contempt. They tried to work upon his feelings, by representing the misery he would inflict on her worthy husband and innocent children; but he turned a deaf ear to all their entreaties. They finally offered to pay him four hundred dollars for a deed of manumission, which at that time was considered a very high price; but he stopped all further discussion by declaring, with a violent oath, that he would not sell her on any terms. Of course, there was nothing to be done, but—to await the issue of the trial.

When the magistrate asked the woman whether she were a slave, Friend Hopper promptly objected to her answering that question, unless he would agree to receive as evidence all she might say. He declined doing that. Friend Hopper then made some remarks, in the course of which he said,

The most honest witnesses are often mistaken as to the identity of persons. It surprises me that the witnesses in this case should be so very positive, when the woman was but sixteen years old at the time they say she eloped, and such a long period has since elapsed.

The question at stake is as important as life itself to this woman, to her honest husband, and to her. poor little innocent children. For my own part, I conscientiously believe she has a just claim to her freedom.

All this time, the woman stood holding her little girl and boy by the hand. She was deeply dejected, but her manners were as calm and dignified, as if she had been one of the best educated ladies in the land. The children were too young to understand the terrible doom that threatened their mother, but they perceived that their parents were in some great trouble, and the little creatures wept in sympathy.

When Friend Hopper described this scene forty years afterward, he used to say, I shall never forget the anguish expressed in her handsome countenance, as she looked down upon her children. I see it as plainly as if it all happened yesterday.

At the time, it was almost too much for his sympathizing heart to endure. He felt like moving heaven and earth to rescue her. The trial came on in the afternoon, and it happened that the presiding magistrate was accustomed to drink rather freely of wine after dinner. Friend Hopper perceived that his mental faculties were slightly confused, and that the claimant was a heavy, stupid-looking fellow. With these thoughts there suddenly flashed through his brain the plan of eluding an iniquitous law, in order to sustain a higher law of justice and humanity. He asked to have the case adjourned till the next day, that there might be further opportunity to inquire into it; adding, Thomas Harrison and myself will be responsible to the United States for this woman's appearance to-morrow. In case of forfeiture, we will agree to pay any sum that may be deemed reasonable.

The claimant felt perfectly sure of his prey, and made no objection to the proposed arrangement. It was accordingly entered on the docket that Thomas Harrison and Isaac T. Hopper were bound to the United States, in the sum of one thousand dollars, to produce the woman for further trial at nine o'clock the next morning.

When Friend Hopper had obtained a copy of the recognizance, signed by the magistrate, he chuckled inwardly and marched out of the office. If there was a flaw in anything, Thomas Harrison had a jocose way of saying, There is a hole in the ballad. As they went into the street together, his friend said, Thomas, there's a hole in the ballad. The recognizance we have just signed is good for nothing. The United States have not the slightest claim upon that woman.

The next morning, at nine o'clock all parties, except the woman, were at the mayor's office. After waiting for her about an hour, the magistrate said, Well gentlemen, the woman does not make her appearance, and I shall be obliged to forfeit your recognizance.

A thousand dollars is a large sum to lose, rejoined Friend Hopper. But if it comes to the worst, I suppose we must make up our minds to pay the United States all the claim they have upon us.

The United States! The United States! exclaimed the magistrate quickly. He turned to look at his docket, and after a slight pause he said to the claimant, There is difficulty here. You had better employ counsel.

Thomas Ross, a respectable lawyer, who lived a few doors above, was summoned, and soon made his appearance. Having heard the particulars of the case briefly stated, he also examined the docket; then turning to Isaac T. Hopper, with a comical gesture and tone, he exclaimed, Eh! To the claim. ant he said, You must catch your slave again if you can; for you can do nothing with these securities.

Of course, the master was very angry, and so was the magistrate, who had inadvertently written the recognizance just as it was dictated to him. They charged Friend Hopper with playing a trick upon them, and threatened to prosecute him. He told them he had no fears concerning a prosecution; and if he had played a trick, he thought it was better than to see a helpless woman torn from husband and children and sent into slavery.

The magistrate asked, How could you say you believed the woman had a right to her freedom? You have brought forward no evidence whatever to prove your assertion.

He replied, I did not say I believed she had a legal right to her freedom. That she had a just right to it, I did believe; for I think every human being has a just claim to freedom, unless guilty of some crime. The system of slavery is founded on the grossest and most manifest injustice.

It is sanctioned by the law of the land, answered the claimant; and you have no right to fly in the face of the laws.

Friend Hopper contented himself with saying, If I have broken any law, I stand ready to meet the consequences. But no law can make wrong right.

The speculator spent several days in fruitless search after the fugitive. When he had relinquished all hopes of finding her, he called on Isaac T. Hopper and offered to manumit her for four hundred dollars. He replied, At one time, we would gladly have given that sum; but now the circumstances of the case are greatly changed, and we cannot consent to give half that amount. After considerable controversy he finally agreed to take one hundred and fifty dollars. The money was paid, and the deed of manumission made out in due form. At parting, the claimant said, with a very bitter smile, I hope I may live to see you south of the Potomac some day.

Friend Hopper replied, Thou hadst better go home and repent of sins already committed, instead of meditating the commission of more.

When telling this story in after years, he was wont to say, I am aware that some will disapprove of the part I acted in that case; because they will regard it as inconsistent with the candor which men ought always to practice toward each other. I can only say that my own conscience has never condemned me for it. I could devise no other means to save the poor victim.

Before we decide to blame Friend Hopper more than he blamed himself in this matter, it would be well to imagine how we ourselves should have felt, if we had been witnesses of the painful scene, instead of reading it in cool blood, after a lapse of years. If a handsome and modest woman stood before us with her weeping little ones, asking permission to lead a quiet and virtuous life, and a pitiless law was about to tear her from husband and children and consign her to the licentious tyrant from whom she had escaped, should we not be strongly tempted to evade such a law by any means that offered at the moment?

It would be wiser to expend our moral indignation on statesmen who sanction and sustain laws so wicked, that just and kind-hearted citizens are compelled either to elude them, or to violate their own honest convictions and the best emotions of their hearts.

In the year of 1808 a Southerner arrested a fugitive slave in Philadelphia and committed him to prison. When he called for him, with authority to take him back to the South, the poor fellow seemed dreadfully distressed. He told the keeper that his master was very severe, and he knew that terrible sufferings awaited him if he was again placed in his power. He hesitated long before he followed the keeper to the iron gate, through which he was to pass out of prison. When he saw his oppressor standing there with fetters in his hand, ready to take him away, he stopped and pleaded in the most piteous tones for permission to find a purchaser in Philadelphia. His owner took not the slightest notice of these humble entreaties, but in a peremptory manner ordered him to come out. The slave trembled all over, and said in the fainting accents of despair, Master, I can't go with you!

Come out, you black rascal! exclaimed the inexorable tyrant. Come out immediately!

The poor wretch advanced timidly a few steps, then turned back suddenly, as if overcome with mortal fear. The master became very impatient, and in angry vociferous tones commanded the keeper to bring him out by force.

All this time, the keeper had stood with his hand on the key of the iron door, very reluctant to open it. But at last he unlocked it, and told the poor terrified creature that he must go. He rushed to the door in the frenzy of desperation, gazed in his master's face for an instant, then flew back, took a sharp knife, which he had concealed about him, and drew it across his throat with such force, that he fell senseless near his master's feet, spattering his garments with blood. All those who witnessed this awful scene, supposed the man was dead. Dr. Church, physician of the prison, examined the wound, and said there was scarcely a possibility that he could survive, though the wind-pipe was not entirely separated. But even the terrible admonition of that ghastly spectacle produced no relenting feelings in the hard heart of the slaveholder. He still demanded to have his victim delivered up to him. When the keeper declined doing it, and urged the reason that the physician said he could not be moved without imminent danger to his life, the brutal tyrant exclaimed, Damn him! He's my property; and I will have him, dead or alive. If he dies, it's nobody's loss but mine.

As he had the mayor's warrant for taking him, the keeper dared not incur the responsibility of disobeying his requisitions. He convened the inspectors for consultation; and they all agreed that any attempt to remove the wounded man would render them accessory to his death. They laid the case before the mayor, who ordered that the prisoner should remain undisturbed till the physician pronounced him out of danger. When the master was informed of this, he swore that nobody had any right to interfere between him and his property. He cursed the mayor, threatened to prosecute the keeper, and was in a furious rage with every body.

Meanwhile, the sympathy of Isaac T. Hopper was strongly excited in the case, and he obtained a promise from the physician that he would let him know if there was any chance that the slave would recover. Contrary to all expectation, he lingered along day after day; and in about a week, the humane physician signified to Friend Hopper, and Joseph Price, one of the inspectors, that a favorable result might now be anticipated. Of course, none of them considered it a duty to inform the master of their hopes. They undertook to negotiate for the purchase of the prisoner, and obtained him for a moderate price. The owner was fully impressed with the belief that he would die before long, and therefore regarded the purchase of him as a mere freak of humanity, by which he was willing enough to profit. When he heard soon afterward that the doctor pronounced him out of danger, he was greatly enraged. But his suffering victim was beyond the reach of his fury, which vented itself in harmless execrations.

The colored man lived many years, to enjoy the liberty for which he had been willing to sacrifice his life. He was a sober, honest, simple-hearted person, and always conducted in a manner entirely satisfactory to those who had befriended him in his hour of utmost need.

Early in the year of 1808, a Frenchman arrived in Philadelphia from one of the West India Islands, bringing with him a slave, whom he took before one of the aldermen, and had him bound to serve him seven years in Virginia. When the indenture was executed, he committed his bondman to prison, for safe-keeping, until he was ready to leave the city. One of the keepers informed Isaac T. Hopper of the circumstance, and told him the slave was to be carried South the next morning.

Congress had passed an Act prohibiting the importation of slaves, which was to begin to take effect at the commencement of the year 1808. It immediately occurred to Friend Hopper that the present case came within the act; and if so, the colored man was of course legally entitled to freedom. In order to detain him till he could examine the law, and take advice on the subject, he procured a warrant for debt and lodged it at the prison, telling the keeper not to let the colored man go till he had paid his demand of a hundred dollars.

When the Frenchman called for his slave next morning, they refused to discharge him; and he obtained a writ of habeas corpus, to bring the case before the mayor's court. Friend Hopper was informed that the slave was on trial, that the Recorder did not think it necessary to notify him, and had made very severe remarks concerning the fictitious debt assume ed for the occasion. He proceeded directly to the court, which was thronged with people, who watched him with lively curiosity, and made a lane for him to pass through. Mahlon Dickinson, the Recorder, was in the act of giving his decision on the case, and he closed his remarks by saying, The conduct of Mr. Hopper has been highly reprehensible. The man is not his debtor; and the pretence that he was so could have been made for no other reason but to cause unnecessary delay, vexation, and expense. The lawyers smiled at each other, and seemed not a little pleased at hearing him so roughly rebuked; for many of them had been more or less annoyed by his skill and ready wit in tangling their skein, in, cases where questions of freedom were involved. Friend Hopper stood before the Recorder, looking him steadfastly in the face, while he was making animadversions on his conduct; and when he had finished, he respectfully asked leave to address the court for a few minutes.

Well, Mr. Hopper, said the Recorder, what have you to say in justification of your very extraordinary proceedings?

He replied, It is true the man is not my debtor; but the court has greatly erred in supposing that the step I have taken was merely intended to produce unnecessary delay and expense. The Recorder will doubtless recollect that Congress has passed an act prohibiting the introduction of foreign slaves into this country. It is my belief that the case now before the court is embraced within the provisions of that act. But I needed time to ascertain the point; and I assumed that the man was my debtor merely to detain him until the Act of Congress could be examined.

Jared Ingersoll, an old and highly respectable lawyer, rose to say, May it please your honors, I believe Mr. Hopper is correct in his opinion. A National Intelligencer containing the Act of Congress is at my office, and I will send for it if you wish. The paper was soon brought, and Friend Hopper read aloud the section which Mr. Ingersoll pointed out; placing strong emphasis on such portions as bore upon the case then pending. When he had concluded, he observed, I presume the court must now be convinced that the censures so liberally bestowed on my conduct are altogether unmerited.

The counsel for the claimant said a newspaper was not legal evidence of the existence of a law. Friend Hopper replied, The court is well aware that I am no lawyer. But I have heard lawyers talk about prima facie evidence; and I should suppose the National Intelligencer amounted at least to that sort of evidence, for it is the acknowledged organ of government, in which the laws are published for the information of citizens. But if that is not satisfactory, I presume the court will detain the man until an authenticated copy of the law can be obtained.

After some discussion, the court ordered a copy of the law to be procured.; but the attorney abandoned the case, and the slave was set at liberty. As soon as this decision was announced, the throng of spectators, white and colored, began to shout, Hurra for Mr. Hopper! The populace were so accustomed to see him come off victorious from such contests, that they began to consider his judgment infallible.

Many years afterward, when Friend Hopper met Mahlon Dickinson on board a steam-boat, he inquired whether he recollected the scolding he gave him on a certain occasion. He replied pleasantly, Indeed I do. I thought I had you that time, and I intended to give it to you; but you slipped through my fingers, as usual.

In the year 1809, a gentleman from East New-Jersey visited Philadelphia, and brought a young slave to wait upon him. When they had been in that city four or five months, the lad called upon Isaac T. Hopper to inquire whether his residence in Philadelphia had made him free. He was informed that he would not have a legal claim to freedom till he had been there six months. Just as the term expired, somebody told the master that the laws of Pennsylvania conferred freedom on slaves under such circumstances. He had been ignorant of the fact, or had forgotten it, and as soon as he received the information he became alarmed lest he should lose his locomotive property. He sent for a constable, who came to his door with a carriage. The lad had just come up from the cellar with an armful of wood. When he entered the parlor, the constable ordered him to put it down and go with him. He threw the wood directly at the legs of the officer, and ran down cellar full speed, slamming the door after him. As soon as the constable could recover from the blow he had received, he followed the lad into the cellar; but he had escaped by another door, and gone to Isaac T. Hopper.

It was snowing fast, and when he arrived there in his shirt sleeves, his black wool plentifully powdered with snow, he was a laughable object to look upon. But his countenance showed that he was too thoroughly frightened and distressed to be a subject of mirth to any compassionate heart. Friend Hopper tried to comfort him by promising that he would protect him, and assuring him that he was now legally free. His agitation subsided in a short time, and he began to laugh heartily to think how he had upset the constable. The master soon came to Friend Hopper's house, described the lad's dress and appearance, and inquired whether he had seen him. He admitted that he had, but declined telling where he was. The master made some severe remarks about the meanness of tampering with gentlemen's servants, and went away. In about half an hour he returned with the constable and said Alderman Kepler desired his respects to Isaac T. Hopper, and wished to see him at his office. He replied, I think it likely that Alderman Kepler has not much more respect for me than I have for him. If he has more business with me than I have with him, I am at home, and can be spoken with.

The master went away, but soon returned with two constables and a lawyer, who was very clamorous in his threats of what would be the consequences if the slave was not at once surrendered to the gentleman. One of the officers said he had a warrant to search the house. Very well, replied Friend Hopper, execute it.

I have great respect for you, rejoined the officer. I should be sorry to search your house by virtue of the warrant. I hope you will consent to my doing so without.

There is no need of delicacy on this occasion, replied Friend Hopper. Thou hadst better proceed to the extent of thy authority.

You give your consent, do you? inquired the officer.

He answered, No, I do not. If thou hast a warrant, of course my consent is not necessary. Proceed to the full extent of thy authority. But if thou goest one inch beyond, thou wilt have reason to repent of it.

The party left the house utterly discomfited. He afterward learned that they had applied for a search-warrant, but could not procure one.

The first step in the process of securing the lad's freedom was to obtain proof that he had been in Philadelphia six months. The landlord of the hotel where the master lodged, refused to say anything on the subject, being unwilling to offend his lodger. But the servants were under no such prudential restraint; and from them Friend Hopper obtained testimony sufficient for his purpose. He then wrote a note to the alderman that he would be at his office with be lad at nine o'clock next morning, and requesting him to inform the claimant. In the mean time, he procured a writ of habeas corpus, to have it in readiness in case circumstances required it. The claimant made his appearance at the appointed hour, and stated how he had come to Philadelphia on a visit, and brought a slave to attend upon him. He descanted quite largely upon the courtesy due from citizens of one state to those of another state.

Friend Hopper was about to reply, when the magistrate interrupted him by saying, I shall not interfere with the citizens of other states. I shall surrender the boy to his master. If he thinks he has a legal claim to his freedom, let him prosecute it in New-Jersey. . .

Friend Hopper said nothing, but gave a signal to have the writ served. The magistrate was highly offended, and asked in an angry tone, What was your object in procuring a writ of habeas corpus?

Friend Hopper replied, Fro my knowledge of thee, I anticipated the result that has just occurred; and I determined to remove the case to a tribunal where I had confidence that justice would be done in the premises.

The Court of Common Pleas was then in session. The case was brought before it the next day, and after the examination of two or three witnesses, the lad was declared free.

In 1810, a slave escaped from Virginia to Philadelphia. In a few months, his master heard where he was, and caused him to be arrested. He was a fine looking young man, apparently about thirty years old. When he was brought before Alderman Shoemaker, that magistrate's sympathy was so much excited, that he refused to try the case unless some one was present to defend the slave. Isaac T. Hopper was accordingly sent for. When he had heard a statement of the case, he asked the agent of the slaveholder to let him examine the Power of Attorney by which he had been authorized to arrest a fugitive from labor, and carry him to Virginia. The agent denied his right to interfere, but Alderman Shoemaker informed him that Mr. Hopper was a member of the Emancipation Society, and had a right to be satisfied.

The Power of Attorney was correctly drawn, and had been acknowledged in Washington, before Bushrod Washington, one of the judges of the Supreme Court of the United States. Friend Hopper's keen eye could detect no available flaw in it. When the agent had been sworn to answer truly all questions relating to the case, he inquired whether the fugitive he was in search of had been advertised; if so, he wished to see the advertisement. It was handed to him, and he instantly noticed that it was headed Sixty Dollars Reward.

Art thou to receive sixty dollars for apprehending the man mentioned in this advertisement? said he.

The agent replied, I am to receive that sum provided I take him home to Virginia.

How canst thou prove that the man thou hast arrested is the one here advertised? inquired he.

The agent answered that he could swear to the fact.

That may be, rejoined Friend Hopper; but in Philadelphia we do not allow any person, especially a stranger, to swear sixty dollars into his own pocket, Unless there is better evidence than thy oath, the man must be set at liberty.

The agent became extremely irritated, and said indignantly, Do you think I would swear to a lie?

Thou art a stranger to me, replied Friend Hopper. I don't know whether thou wouldst swear falsely or not. But there is one thing I do know; and that is, I am not willing to trust thee.

The agent reiterated, I know the man standing there as well as I know any man living. I am perfectly sure he is the slave described in the advertisement. I was overseer for the gentleman who owns him. If you examine his back, you will find scars of the whip.

And perhaps thou art the man who made the scars, if he has any, rejoined the Friend.

Without replying to this suggestion, the slavehunter ordered the colored man to strip, that his back might be examined by the court. Friend Hopper objected to such a proceeding. Thou hast produced no evidence that the man thou hast arrested is a slave, said he. Thou and he are on the same footing before this court. We have as good a right to examine thy back, as we have to examine his. He added, with a very significant tone, In some places, they whip for kidnapping.

This remark put the slave-hunter in a violent rage. The magistrate decided that his evidence was not admissible, on the ground that he was interested. He then proposed to summon two witnesses from a Virginian vessel lying at one of the wharves.

Of course thou art at liberty to go for witnesses, replied Friend Hopper. But I appeal to the magistrate to discharge this man. Under present circumstances, he ought not to be detained a single moment. The alderman needed no urging on that point. He very promptly discharged the prisoner. As soon as he left the office, the slave-hunter siezed hold of him, and swore he would keep him till witnesses were brought. But Friend Hopper walked up to him, and said in his resolute way, Let go thy hold! or I will take such measures as will make thee repent of thy rashness. How darest thou lay a finger upon the man after the magistrate has discharged him?

Thus admonished, he reluctlantly relinquished his grasp, and went off swearing vengeance against the meddlesome Quaker.

Friend Hopper hastened home with the colored man, and wrote a brief letter to his friend William Reeve, in New-Jersey, concluding with these words: Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. This letter was given to the fugitive with directions how to proceed. His friend accompanied him to the ferry, saw him safely across the river, and then returned home.

In an hour or two the slave-hunter came to the house, accompanied by a constable and two witnesses from Virginia. The slave I arrested was seen to come here, said he. Where is he? Produce him.

Friend Hopper replied very quietly, The man has been here; but he is gone now.

This answer made the agent perfectly furious. After discharging a volley of oaths, he said he had a search warrant, and swore he would have the house searched from garret to cellar. Very well, replied Friend Hopper, thou art at liberty to proceed according to law; but be careful not to overstep that boundary. If thou dost, it will be at thy peril.

After the slave-hunter had vented his rage in a torrent of abuse, the constable proposed to speak a few words in private. With many friendly professions, he acknowledged that they had no searchwarrant. The gentleman was about to obtain one from the mayor, said he; but I wished to save your feelings. I told him you were well acquainted with me, and I had no doubt you would permit me to search your house without any legal process.

Friend Hopper listened patiently, perfectly well aware that the whole statement was a sham. When the constable paused for a reply, he opened the door, and said very concisely, Thou art at liberty to go about thy business.

They spent several days searching for the fugitive, but their efforts were unavailing.

Cassy was slave to a merchant in Baltimore, by the name of Claggett. She had reason to believe that her master was about to sell her to a speculator, who was making up a coffle for the markets of the far South. The terror felt in view of such a prospect can be understood by slaves only. She resolved to escape; and watching a favorable opportunity, she succeeded in reaching the neighborhood of Haddonfield, New-Jersey. There she obtained service in a very respectable family. She was honest, steady, and industrious, and made many friends by her cheerful, obliging manners. But her heart was never at rest; for she had left in Baltimore a babe little more than a year old. She had not belonged to an unusually severe master; but she had experienced quite enough of the sufferings of slavery to dread it for her child. Her thoughts dwelt so much on this painful subject, that her naturally cheerful character became extremely saddened. She at last determined to make a bold effort to save her little one from the liability of being sold, like a calf or pig in the shambles. She went to see Isaac T. Hopper and communicated to him her plan. He tried to dissuade her; for he considered the project extremely dangerous, and well nigh hopeless. But the mother's heart yearned for her babe, and the incessant longing stimulated her courage to incur all hazards. To Baltimore she went; her pulses throbbing hard and fast, with the double excitement of hope and fear. She arrived safely, and went directly to the house of a colored family, old friends of hers, in whom she could confide with perfect safety. To her great joy, she found that they approved her plan, and were ready to assist her. Arrangements were soon made to convey the child to a place about twenty miles from Baltimore, where it would be well taken care of, till the mother could find a safe opportunity to remove it to New-Jersey.

Before she had time to take all the steps necessary to insure success in this undertaking, her master was informed of her being in the city, and sent constables in pursuit of her. Luckily, her friends were apprized of this in season to give her warning; and her own courage and ingenuity proved adequate to the emergency. She disguised herself in sailor's clothes, and walked boldly to the Philadelphia boat. There she walked up and down the deck, with her arms folded, smoking a cigar, and occasionally passing and repassing the constables who had been sent on board in search of her. These men, having watched till the last moment for the arrival of a colored woman answering to her description, took their departure. The boat started, and brought the courageous mother safely to Philadelphia, where Friend Hopper and others rejoiced over the history of her hair-breadth escape.

A few weeks after, she went to the place where her child had been left, and succeeded in bringing it safely away. For a short time, her happiness seemed to be complete; but when the first flush of joy and thankfulness had subsided, she began to be harassed with continual fears lest she and her child should be arrested in some evil hour, and carried back into slavery. By unremitting industry, and very strict economy, she strove to lay by money enough to purchase their freedom. She had made friends by her good conduct and obliging ways, while her maternal affection and enterprising character excited a good deal of interest among those acquainted with her history. Donations were occasionally added to her earnings, and a sum was soon raised sufficient to accomplish her favorite project. Isaac T. Hopper entered into negotiation with her master, and succeeded in obtaining manumission for her and her child.

A slave escaped from Colonel Ridgeley, who resided in the southern part of Virginia. He went to Philadelphia, and remained there undiscovered for several years. But he was never quite free from anxiety, lest in some unlucky hour, he should be arrested and carried back to bondage. When he had laid up some money, he called upon Isaac T. Hopper to assist him in buying the free use of his own limbs. A negotiation was opened with Col. Ridge. ley, who agreed to take two hundred dollars for the fugitive, and appointed a time to come to Philadelphia to arrange the business. But instead of keep. ing his agreement honorably, he went to that city several weeks before the specified time, watched for his bondman, seized him, and conveyed him to Friend Hopper's office. When the promised two hundred dollars were offered, he refused to accept them.

Why, that is the sum thou hast agreed upon, said Friend Hopper.

I know that, replied the Colonel; but I won't take it now. He was the best servant I ever had. I can sell him for one thousand dollars in Virginia. Under present circumstances, I will take five hundred dollars for him, and not one cent less.

After considerable discussion, Friend Hopper urged him to allow his bondman until ten o'clock next morning, to see what could be done among his friends; and he himself gave a written obligation that the man should be delivered up to him at that hour, in case he could not procure five hundred dollars to purchase his freedom.

When the master was gone, Friend Hopper said to the alarmed fugitive, There now remains but one way for thee to obtain thy freedom. As to raising five hundred dollars, that is out of the question. But if thou wilt be prompt and resolute, and do precisely as I tell thee, I think thou canst get off safely.

I will do anything for freedom, replied the bondman; for I have made up my mind, come what may, that I never will go back into slavery.

Very well then, rejoined his friend. Don't get frightened when the right moment comes to act; but keep thy wits about thee, and do as I tell thee. Thy master will come here to-morrow at ten o'clock, according to appointment. I must deliver thee up to him, and receive back the obligation for one thousand dollars, which I have given him. Do thou stand with thy back against the door, which opens from this room into the parlor. When he has returned the paper to me, open the door quickly, lock it on the inside, and run through the parlor into the back-yard. There is a wall there eight feet high, with spikes at the top. Thou wilt find a clotheshorse leaning against it, to help thee up. When thou hast mounted, kick the clothes-horse down behind thee, drop on the other side of the wall, and be off. The premises were then shown to him, and he received minute directions through what alleys and streets he had better pass, and at what house he could find a temporary refuge.

Col. Ridgeley came the next morning, at the appointed hour, and brought a friend to stand sentinel at the street door, lest the slave should attempt to rush out. It did not occur to him that there was any danger of his running in.

We have not been able to raise the five hundred dollars, said Friend Hopper; and here is thy man, according to agreement.

The Colonel gave back his obligation for one thousand dollars; and the instant it left his hand, the fugitive passed into the parlor. The master sprang over the counter after him, but found the door locked. Before he could get to the back yard by another door, the wall was scaled, the clotheshorse thrown down, and the fugitive was beyond his reach. Of course, he returned very much disappointed and enraged; declaring his firm belief that a trick had been played upon him purposely. After he had given vent to his anger some little time, Friend Hopper asked for a private interview with him. When they were alone together in the parlor, he said, I admit this was an intentional trick; but I had what seemed to me good reasons for resorting to it. In the first place, thou didst not keep the agreement made with me, but sought to gain an unfair advantage. In the next place, I knew that man was thy own son; and I think any person who is so unfeeling as to make traffic of his own flesh and blood, deserves to be tricked out of the chance to do it.

What if he is my son? rejoined the Virginian. I've as good a right to sell my own flesh and blood as that of any other person. If I choose to do it, it is none of your business. He opened the door, and beckoning to his friend, who was in waiting, he said, Hopper admits this was all a trick to set the slave free. Then turning to Friend Hopper, he added, You admit it was a trick, don't you?

Thou and I will talk that matter over by ourselves, he replied. The presence of a third person is not always convenient.

The Colonel went off in a violent passion, and forgetting that he was not in Virginia, he rushed into the houses of several colored people, knocked them about, overturned their beds, and broke their furniture, in search of the fugitive. Being unable to obtain any information concerning him, he cooled down considerably, and went to inform Friend Hopper that he would give a deed of manumission for two hundred dollars; but his offer was rejected.

Why that was your own proposal! vociferated the Colonel.

Very true, he replied; and offered thee the money; but thou refused to take it. After storming awhile, the master went off to obtain legal advice from the Hon. John Sergeant. Meanwhile, several of the colored people had entered a complaint against him for personal abuse and damage done to their furniture. He was obliged to give bonds for his appearance at the next court, to answer their accusations. This was a grievous humiliation for a proud Virginian, who had been educated to think that colored people had no civil rights. In this unpleasant dilemma, his lawyer advised him to give a deed of manumission for one hundred and fifty dollars; promising to exert his influence to have the mortifying suits withdrawn.

The proposed terms were accepted, and the money promptly paid by the slave from his own earnings. But when Mr. Sergeant proposed that the suits for assault and battery should be withdrawn, Friend Hopper replied, I have no authority to dismiss them.

They will be dismissed if you advise it, rejoined the lawyer; and if you will promise to do it, I shall be perfectly satisfied.

These colored people have been very badly treated, answered Friend Hopper. If the aggressor wants to settle the affair, he had better go to them and offer some equivalent for the trouble he has given.

The lawyer replied, When he agreed to manumit the man for one hundred and fifty dollars, he expected these suits would be dismissed, of course, as a part of the bargain. What sum do you think these people will take to withdraw them?

Friend Hopper said he thought they would do it for one hundred and fifty dollars.

I will pay it, replied Mr. Sergeant; for Colonel Ridgeley is very anxious to return home.

Thus the money paid for the deed of manumission was returned. Forty dollars were distributed among the colored people, to repay the damage done to their property. After some trifling incidental expenses had been deducted, the remainder was returned to the emancipated slave; who thus obtained his freedom for about fifty dollars, instead of the sum originally offered.

A colored woman and her son were slaves to a man in East-Jersey. She had two sons in Philadelphia, who had been free several years, and her present master was unacquainted with them. In 1827, she and her younger son escaped, and went to live in Philadelphia. Her owner, knowing she had free sons in that city, concluded as a matter of course that she had sought their protection. A few weeks after her flight, he followed her, and having assumed Quaker costume, went to the house of one of her sons. He expressed great interest for the woman, and said he wished to obtain an interview with her for her benefit. His friendly garb and kind language completely deceived her son, and he told him that his mother was then staying at his brother's house, which was not far off. Having obtained this information, the slaveholder procured a constable and immediately went to the place described. Fortunately, the son was at home, and it being warm weather he sat near the open door. The mother was seated at a chamber window, and saw a constable approaching the house, with a gentleman in Quaker costume, whom she at once recognized as her master. She gave the alarm to her son, who instantly shut the door and fastened it. The master, being refused admittance, placed a guard there, while he went to procure a search-warrant. These proceedings attracted the attention of colored neighbors, and a crowd soon gathered about the house. They seized the man who guarded the door, and held him fast, while the woman and her fugitive son rushed out. It was dusk, and the uncertain light favored their escape. They ran about a mile, and took refuge with a colored family in Locust-street. The watchman soon got released from the colored people who held him, and succeeded in tracing the woman to her new retreat, where he again mounted guard. The master returned meanwhile, and having learned the circumstances, went to the magistrate to obtain another warrant to search the house in Locust-street.

At this stage of the affair, Friend Hopper was summoned, and immediately went to the rescue, accompanied by one of his sons, about sixteen years old. He found the woman and her son stowed away in a closet, exceedingly terrified. He assured them they would be quite as safe on the mantel-piece, as they would be in that closet; that their being found concealed would be regarded as the best evidence that they were the persons sought for. Knowing it was dangerous for them to remain in that house, he told them of a plan he had formed, on the spur of the moment. After giving them careful instructions how to proceed, he left them and requested that the street door might be opened for him. A crowd immediately rushed in, as he had foreseen would be the case. He affected to be greatly displeased, and ordered the men of the house to turn all the intruders out. They obeyed him; and among the number turned out were the two fugitives. It was dark, and in the confusion, the watchman on guard could not distingush them among the multitude.

Friend Hopper had hastily consigned them to his son, with instructions to take them to his house; and the watchman, seeing that he himself remained about the premises, took it for granted that the fugitives had not escaped.

As soon as it was practicable, Friend Hopper returned home, where he found the woman and her son in a state of great agitation. He immediately sent her to a place of greater safety, and gave the son a letter to a farmer thirty miles up in the country. He went directly to the river Schuylkill, but was afraid to cross the bridge, lest some person should be stationed there to arrest him. He accordingly walked along the margin of the river till he found a small boat, in which he crossed the stream. Following the directions he had received, he arrived at the farmer's house, where he had a kindly welcome, and obtained employment.

The master being unable to recapture his slaves, called upon Isaac T. Hopper to inquire if he knew anything about them. He coolly replied, I believe they are doing very well. From what I hear, to judge it will not be necessary to give thyself any further trouble on their account.

There is no use in trying to capture a runaway slave in Philadelphia, rejoined the master. I believe the devil himself could not catch them when they once get here.

That is very likely, answered Friend Hopper. But I think he would have less difficulty in catching the masters; being so much more familiar with them.

Sixty dollars had already been expended in vain; and the slave-holder, having relinquished all hope of tracing the fugitives, finally agreed to manumit the woman for fifty dollars, and her son for seventy-five dollars. These sums were advanced by two citizens friendly to the colored people, and the emancipated slaves repaid them by faithful service.

In the autumn of 1828, Dr. Rich of Maryland came to Philadelphia with his wife, who was the daughter of an Episcopal clergyman in that city, by the name of Wiltbank. She brought a slave to wait upon her, intending to remain at her father's until after the birth of her child, which was soon expected to take place. When they had been there a few months, the slave was informed by some colored acquaintance that she was free in consequence of being brought to Philadelphia. She called to consult with Isaac T. Hopper, and seemed very much disappointed to hear that a residence of six months was necessary to entitle her to freedom; that her master was doubtless aware of that circumstance, and would probably guard against it.

After some minutes of anxious reflection, she said, Then there is nothing left for me to do but to run away; for I am determined never to go back to Maryland.

Friend Hopper inquired whether she thought it would be right to leave her mistress without any one to attend upon her, in the situation she then was. She replied that she felt no scruples on that point, for her master was wealthy, and could hire as many servants as he pleased. Finding her mind entirely made up on the subject, he gave her such instructions as seemed suited to the occasion.

The next morning she was not to be found; and Dr. Rich went in search of her, with his fatherin-law, Mr. Wiltbank. Having frightened some ignorant colored people where she visited, by threats of prosecuting them for harboring a runaway, they confessed that she had gone from their house to Isaac T. Hopper. Mr. Wiltbank accordingly waited upon him, and after relating the circumstances of the case, inquired whether he had seen the fugitive. In reply, he made a frank statement of the interview he had with her, and of her fixed determination to obtain her freedom. The clergyman reproached her with ingratitude, and said she had always been treated with great kindness.

The woman herself gives a very different account of her treatment, replied Friend Hopper; but be that as it may, I cannot blame her for wishing to obtain her liberty.

He asked if Friend Hopper knew where she then was; and he answered that he did not. Could you find her, if you tried? inquired he.

I presume I could do it very easily, rejoined the Quaker. The colored people never wish to secrete themselves from me; for they know I am their true friend.

Mr. Wiltbank then said, If you will cause her to be brought to your house, Dr. Rich and myself will come here at eight o'clock this evening. You will then hear her ask her master's pardon, acknowledge the kindness with which she has always been treated, and express her readiness to go home with him.

Friend Hopper indignantly replied, I have no doubt that fear might induce her to profess all thou hast said. But what trait hast thou discovered in my character, that leads thee to suppose I would be such a hypocrite as to betray the confidence this poor woman has reposed in me, by placing her in the power of her master, in the way thou hast proposed?

Mr. Wiltbank then requested that a message might be conveyed to the woman, exhorting her to return, and promising that no notice whatever would be taken of her offence.

She shall be informed of thy message, if that will be any satisfaction to thee, replied Friend Hopper; but I am perfectly sure she will never voluntarily return into slavery.

Dr. Rich and Mr. Wiltbank called in the evening, and were told the message had been delivered to the woman, but she refused to return. She is in your house now, exclaimed Dr. Rich. I can prove it; and if you don't let me see her, I will commence a suit against you to-morrow, for harboring my slave.

I believe Solomon Low resides in thy neighborhood, said Friend Hopper. Art thou acquainted with him?

Being answered in the affirmative, he said, Solomon Low brought three such suits as thou hast threatened. They cost him seventeen hundred dollars, which I heard he was unable to pay. But perhaps thou hast seventeen hundred dollars to spare?

Dr. Rich answered that he could well afford to lose that sum.

Very well, rejoined his opponent. There are lawyers enough who need it, and still more who would be glad to have it.

Finding it alike impossible to coax or intimidate the resolute Quaker, they withdrew. About eleven o'clock at night, some of the family informed Friend Hopper that there was a man continually walking back and forth in front of the house. He went out and accosted him thus: Friend, art thou watching my house? When the stranger replied that he was, he said, It is very kind in thee; but I really do not think there is any occasion for thy services. I am quite satisfied with the watchmen employed by the public.

The man answered gruffly, I have taken my stand, and I intend to keep it.

Friend Hopper told him he had no objection; and he was about to re-enter the house, when he observed Dr. Rich, who was so wrapped up in a large cloak, that at first he did not recognize him. He exclaimed, Why doctor, art thou here! Is it possible thou art parading the streets so late in the night, at this cold season of the year? Now, from motives of kindness, I do assure thee thy slave is not in my house. To save thee from exposing thy health by watching at this inclement season, I will give thee leave to search the house.

The doctor replied, I shall obtain a warrant in the morning, and search it with the proper officer. There appear to be several on the watch, said Friend Hopper; and it surely is not necessary for all of them to be out in the cold at the same time. If thou wilt be responsible that nothing shall be stolen, thou art welcome to use my parlor as a watchhouse. This offer was declined with freezing civility, and Friend Hopper returned to his dwelling. Passing through the kitchen, he observed two colored domestics talking together in an under tone, apparently planning something which made them very merry. Judging from some words he overheard, that they had a mischievous scheme on foot, he resolved to watch their movements without letting them know that he noticed them. One of them put on an old cloak and bonnet, opened the front door cautiously, looked up the street and down the street, but saw nobody. The watchers had seen the dark face the moment it peeped out, and they were lying in ambush to observe her closely. After a minute of apparent hesitation, she rushed into the street and ran with all speed. They joined in hot pursuit, and soon overtook her. She pretended to be greatly alarmed, and called aloud for a watchman. The offenders were arrested and brought back to the house with the girl. Friend Hopper explained that these men had been watching his house, supposing a fugitive slave to be secreted there; and that they had mistaken one of his domestics for the person they were in search of. After laughing a little at the joke practised upon them, he proposed that they should be set at liberty; and they were accordingly released.

The next morning, a soon as it was light he invited the watchers to come in and warm themselves; but they declined. After sunrise, they all dispersed, except two. When breakfast was ready, he urged them to come in and partake; telling them that one could keep guard while the other was eating. But they replied that Dr. Rich had ordered them to hold no communication with him. Being firmly persuaded that the slave was in the house, they kept sentry several days and nights. For fear she might escape by the back way, a messenger was sent to Mr. Warrence, who occupied a building in the rear, offering to pay him for his trouble if he would watch the premises in that direction. His wife happened to overhear the conversation; and having a pitcher of scalding water in her hand, she ran out saying, Do you propose to hire my husband to watch neighbor Hopper's premises for a runaway slave? Go about your business! or I will throw this in your face.

When Dr. Rich called again, he was received politely, and the first inquiry was how he had succeeded in his efforts to procure a search-warrant. He replied, The magistrate refused to grant one.

Perhaps Joseph Reed, the Recorder, would oblige thee in that matter, said Friend Hopper.

The answer was, I have been to him, and he declines to interfere.

It was then suggested that it might be well to retain a lawyer with a portion of the seventeen hundred dollars he said he had to spare.

I have been to Mr. Broome, rejoined the doctor. He tells me that you understand the law in such cases as well as he does; and he advises me to let the matter alone.

I will give thee permission to search my house, said Friend Hopper; and I have more authority in that matter than any magistrate, judge, or lawyer, in the city.

That is very gentlemanly, replied the doctor; but I infer from it that the woman is not in your house.

He was again assured that she was not; and they fell into some general discourse on the subject of slavery. Suppose you came to Maryland and lost your horse, said the Doctor. If you called upon me, and I told you that I knew where he was, but would not inform you, would you consider yourself treated kindly? In such a case, I should not consider myself well treated, replied Friend Hopper. But in this part of the country, we make a distinction between horses and men. We believe that human beings have souls.

That makes no difference, rejoined the Doctor. You confess that you could find my slave if you were so disposed; and I consider it your duty to tell me where she is. I will do it when I am of the same opinion, replied Friend Hopper; but till then thou must excuse me.

The fugitive was protected by a colored man named Hill, who soon obtained a situation for her as servant in a respectable country family, where she was kindly treated. In the course of a year or two, she returned to Philadelphia, married a steady industrious man, and lived very comfortably.

Mr. Hill had a very revengeful temper. One of his colored neighbors brought suits against him for criminal conduct, and recovered heavy damages. From that time he seemed to hate people of his own complexion, and omitted no opportunity to injure them. The woman he befriended, when he was in a better state of mind, had been married nine or ten years, and had long ceased to think of danger, when he formed the wicked project of making a little money by betraying her to her master. Accordingly he sought her residence accompanied by one of those wretches who make a business of capturing slaves. When he entered her humble abode, he found her busy at the wash-tub. Rejoiced to see the man who had rendered her such essential service in time of need, she threw her arms about his neck, exclaiming, O, uncle Hill, how glad I am to see you! She hastily set aside her tub, wiped up the floor, and thinking there was nothing in the house good enough for her benefactor, she went out to purchase some little luxuries. Hill recommended a particular shop, and proposed to accompany her. The slave-hunter, who had been left in the street, received a private signal, and the moment she entered the shop, he pounced upon her. Before her situation could be made known to Isaac T. Hopper, she was removed to Baltimore. The last he ever heard of her she was in prison there, awaiting her day of sale, when she was to be transported to New-Orleans.

He used to say he did not know which was the most difficult for his mind to conceive of, the cruel depravity manifested by the ignorant colored man, or the unscrupulous selfishness of the slaveholder, a man of education, a husband and a father, who could consent to use such a tool for such a purpose:

Many more narratives of similar character might be added; for I think he estimated at more than one thousand the number of cases in which he had been employed for fugitives, in one way or another, during his forty years residence in Philadelphia. But enough have been told to illustrate the active benevolence, uncompromising boldness, and ready wit, which characterized this friend of humanity. His accurate knowledge of all laws connected with slavery was so proverbial, that magistrates and lawyers were generally averse to any collision with him on such subjects.

In 1810, Benjamin Donahue of Delaware applied to Mr. Barker, mayor of Philadelphia, to assist him in recovering a fugitive, with whose place of residence he was perfectly sure Isaac T. Hopper was acquainted. After a brief correspondence with Friend Hopper, the mayor said to Mr. Donahue, We had better drop this business, like a hot potato; for Mr. Hopper knows more law in such cases as this, than you and I put together.

He would often resort to the most unexpected expedients. Upon one occasion, a slave case was brought before Judge Rush, brother of Dr. Benjamin Rush. It seemed likely to terminate in favor of the slaveholder; but Friend Hopper thought he observed that the judge wavered a little. He seized that moment to inquire, Hast thou not recently published a legal opinion, in which it is distinctly stated that thou wouldst never seek to sustain a human law, if thou wert convinced that it conflicted with any law in the Bible?

I did publish such a statement, replied Judge Rush; and I am ready to abide by it; for in all cases, I consider the divine law above the human.

Friend Hopper drew from his pocket a small Bible, which he had brought into court for the express purpose, and read in loud distinct tones the following verses: Thou shalt not deliver unto his master the servant which is escaped from his master unto thee: He shall dwell with thee, even among you, in that place which he shall choose, in one of thy gates, where it liketh him best: thou shalt not oppress him. Deut. 23: 15, 16.

The slaveholder smiled; supposing this appeal to old Hebrew law would be considered as little applicable to modern times, as the command to stone a man to death for picking up sticks on the Sabbath. But when the judge asked for the book, read the sentence for himself, seemed impressed by it, and adjourned the decision of the case, he walked out of the court-house muttering, I believe in my soul the old fool will let him off on that ground. And sure enough, the slave was discharged.

Friend Hopper's quickness in slipping through loop-holes, and dodging round corners, rendered him exceedingly troublesome and provoking to slaveholders. He often kept cases pending in court three or four years, till the claimants were completely wearied out, and ready to settle on any terms. His acute perception of the slightest flaw in a document, or imperfection in evidence, always attracted notice in the courts he attended. Judges and lawyers often remarked to him, Mr. Hopper, it is a great pity you were not educated for the legal profession. You have such a judicial mind. Mr. William Lewis, an eminent lawyer, offered him every facility for studying the profession. Come to my office and use my library whenever you please, said he; or I will obtain a clerkship in the courts for you, if you prefer that. Your mind is peculiarly adapted to legal investigation, and if you would devote yourself to it, you might become a judge before long.

But Friend Hopper could never overcome his scruples about entering on a career of worldly ambition. He thought he had better keep humble, and resist temptations that might lead him out of the plainness and simplicity of the religious Society to which he belonged. As for the colored people of Philadelphia, they believed in his infallibility, as devout Catholics believe in the Pope. They trusted him, and he trusted them; and it is remarkable in how few instances he found his confidence misplaced. The following anecdote will illustrate the nature of the relation existing between him and that much abused race. Prince Hopkins, a wood-sawyer of Philadelphia, was claimed as a fugitive slave by John Kinsmore of Baltimore. When Friend Hopper went to the magistrate's office to inquire into the affair, he found the poor fellow in tears. He asked for a private interview, and the alderman gave his consent. When they were alone, Prince confessed that he was the slave in question. In the course of his narrative, it appeared that he had been sent into Pennsylvania by his mistress, and had resided there with a relative of hers two years. Friend Hopper told him to dry up his tears, for it was in his power to protect him. When he returned to the office, he informed the magistrate that Prince Hopkins was a free man; having resided in Pennsylvania, with the consent of his mistress, a much longer time than the law required. Mr. Kinsmore was irritated, and demanded that the colored man should be imprisoned till he could obtain legal advice.

Let him go and finish the wood he was sawing, said Friend Hopper. I will be responsible for his appearance whenever he is wanted. If the magistrate will give me a commitment, Prince will call at my house after he has finished sawing his wood, and I will send him to jail with it. He can remain there, until the facts I have stated are clearly proved.

The slave-holder and his lawyer seemed to regard this proposition as an insult. They railed at Friend Hopper for his impertinent interference, and for the absurd idea of trusting that nigger under such circumstances.

He replied, I would rather trust that nigger, as you call him, than either of you. So saying, he marched off with the magistrate's mittimus in his pocket.

When Prince Hopkins had finished his job of sawing, he called for the commitment, and carried it to the jailor, who locked him up. Satisfactory evidence of his freedom was soon obtained, and he was discharged.

The colored people appeared to better advantage with their undoubted friend, than they possibly could have done where a barrier of prejudice existed. They were not afraid to tell him their experiences in their own way, with natural pathos, here and there dashed with fun. A fine-looking, athletic fugitive, telling him his story one day, said, When I first run away, I met some people who were dreadful afraid I could n't take care of myself. But thinks I to myself I took care of master and myself too for a long spell; and I guess I can make out. With a roguish expression laughing all over his face, he added, I don't look as if I was suffering for a master; do I, Mr. Hopper?

Though slaveholders had abundant reason to dread Isaac T. Hopper, as they would a blister of Spanish flies, yet he had no hardness of feeling toward them, or even toward kidnappers; hateful as he deemed the system, which produced them both.

In 1801, a sober industrious family of free colored people, living in Pennsylvania on the borders of Maryland, were attacked in the night by a band of kidnappers. The parents were aged, and needed the services of their children for support. Knowing that the object of the marauders was to carry them off and sell them to slave speculators, the old father defended them to the utmost of his power. In the struggle, he was wounded by a pistol, and one of his daughters received a shot, which caused her death. One of the sons, who was very ill in bed, was beaten and bruised till he was covered with blood, But mangled and crippled as he was, he contrived to drag himself to a neighboring barn, and hide himself under the straw.

If such lawless violence had been practised upon any white citizens, the Executive of Pennsylvania would have immediately offered a high reward for the apprehension of the aggressors; but the victims belonged to a despised caste, and nothing was done to repair their wrongs. Friend Hopper felt the blood boil in his veins when he heard of this cruel outrage, and his first wish was to have the offenders punished; but as soon as he had time to reflect, he said, I cannot find it in my heart to urge this subject upon the notice of the Executive; for death would be the penalty if those wretches were convicted.

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 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.