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

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

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

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

MARY NORRIS.

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

"Yes," she replied sullenly.

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

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

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

"What use would it be?" she replied. "You wouldn't take me into your family. The doctor wouldn't take me into his family. No respectable person would have anything to do with me. My a.s.sociates _must_ be such acquaintances as I make here. If they steal, I am taken up for it; no matter whether I am guilty or not. I am an old convict, and n.o.body believes what I say. O, yes, I shall come back again. To be sure I shall come back," she repeated bitterly.

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

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

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

THE MAGDALEN.

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

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

He went round among the wealthy Quakers, and by dint of great persuasion he induced one to let her a small tenement at very low rent. A few others agreed to purchase some humble furniture, and a quant.i.ty of thread, needles, tape, and b.u.t.tons, to furnish a small shop. The poor old creature's heart overflowed with grat.i.tude, and it was her pride to keep everything very neat and orderly. There she lived contented and comfortable the remainder of her days, and became much respected in the neighborhood. The tears often came to her eyes when she saw Friend Hopper. "G.o.d bless that good man!" she would say. "He has been the salvation of me."

THE UNCOMPLIMENTARY INVITATION.

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

"No, I have not," he replied.

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

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

His acquaintance looked surprised, but pa.s.sed on without further query.

A colored girl came to the door. To the inquiry whether her mistress was within, she answered in the affirmative. "Tell her I wish to see her,"

said Friend Hopper. The girl was evidently astonished at a visitor in Quaker costume, and of such grave demeanor; but she went and did the errand. A message was returned that her mistress was engaged and could not see any one. "Where is she?" he inquired. The girl replied that she was up-stairs. "I will go to her," said the importunate messenger.

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

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

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

THEFT FROM NECESSITY.

One day, when the family were in the midst of washing, a man called at Isaac T. Hopper's house to buy soap fat, and was informed they had none to sell. A minute after he had pa.s.sed out, the domestic came running in to say that he had stolen some of the children's clothes from the line.

Friend Hopper followed him quickly, and called out, "Dost thou want to buy some soap-fat? Come back if thou dost."

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

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

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

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

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

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

PATRICK McKEEVER.

Patrick was a poor Irishman in Philadelphia. He and another man were arrested on a charge of burglary, convicted and sentenced to be hung. I am ignorant of the details of his crime, or why the sentence was not carried into execution. There were probably some palliating circ.u.mstances in his case; for though he was carried to the gallows, seated on his coffin, he was spared for some reason, and his companion was hung. He was afterward sentenced to ten years imprisonment, and this was eventually shortened one year. During the last three years of his term, Friend Hopper was one of the inspectors, and frequently talked with him in a gentle, fatherly manner. The convict was a man of few words, and hope seemed almost dead within him; but though he made no large promises, his heart was evidently touched by the voice of kindness. As soon as he was released, he went immediately to work at his trade of tanning leather, and conducted himself in the most exemplary manner. Being remarkable for capability, and the amount of work he could accomplish, he soon had plenty of employment. He pa.s.sed Friend Hopper's house every day, as he went to his work, and often received from him words of friendly encouragement.

Things were going on thus satisfactorily, when his friend heard that constables were in pursuit of him, on account of a robbery committed the night before. He went straight to the mayor, and inquired why orders had been given to arrest Patrick McKeever.