Part 1 (2/2)
As he darted through the trees, the brick merely grazed his hair. If it had hit him, it might have cost him his life; though his mischievous pupil had not reflected upon the possibility of such a result.
There was a bridge across the brook consisting of a single rail. One day, Isaac sawed this nearly in two; and while the master was at play with the boys, he took the opportunity to say something very impertinent, for which he knew he should be chased. He ran toward the brook, crossed the rail in safety, and instantly turned it over, so that his pursuer would step upon it when the cut side was downward. It immediately snapped under his pressure, and precipitated him into the stream, while the young rogue stood by almost killing himself with laughter. But this joke also came very near having a melancholy termination; for the master was floated down several rods into deep water, and with difficulty saved himself from drowning.
There was a creek not far from his father's house, where it was customary to load sloops with wood. Upon one of these occasions, he persuaded a party of boys to pry up a pile of wood and tip it into a sloop, in a confused heap. Of course, it must all be taken out and reloaded. When he saw how much labor this foolish trick had caused, he felt some compunction; but the next temptation found the spirit of mischief too strong to be resisted.
Coming home from his uncle's one evening, he stopped to amuse himself with taking a gate off its hinges. When an old Quaker came out to see who was meddling with his gate, Isaac fired a gun over his head, and made him run into the house, as if an evil spirit were after him.
It was his delight to tie the boughs of trees together in narrow paths, that people travelling in the dark, might hit their heads against them; and to lay stones in the ruts of the road, when he knew that farmers were going to market with eggs, in the darkness of morning twilight. If any mischief was done for miles round, it was sure to be attributed to Isaac Hopper. There was no malice in his fun; but he had such superabounding life within him, that it _would_ overflow, even when he knew that he must suffer for it. His boyish activity, strength, and agility were proverbial. Long after he left his native village, the neighbors used to tell with what astonis.h.i.+ng rapidity he would descend high trees, head foremost, clinging to the trunk with his feet.
The fearlessness and firmness of character, which he inherited from both father and mother, manifested itself in many ways. He had a lamb, whose horns were crooked, and had a tendency to turn in. His father had given it to him for his own, on condition that he should keep the horns carefully filed, so that they should not hurt the animal. He had a small file on purpose, and took such excellent care of his pet, that it soon became very much attached to him, and trotted about after him like a dog. When he was about five or six years old, British soldiers came into the neighborhood to seize provisions for the army, according to their custom during our revolutionary war. They tied the feet of the tame lamb, and threw it into the cart with other sheep and lambs. Isaac came up to them in season to witness this operation, and his heart swelled with indignation. He sprang into the cart, exclaiming, ”That's _my_ lamb, and you shan't have it!” The men tried to push him aside; but he pulled out a rusty jack-knife, which he had bought of a pedlar for two-pence, and cut the rope that bound the poor lamb. A British officer rode up, and seeing a little boy struggling so resolutely with the soldiers, he inquired what was the matter. ”They've stolen my lamb!”
exclaimed Isaac; ”and they shan't have it. It's _my_ lamb!”
”_Is_ it your lamb, my brave little fellow?” said the officer. ”Well, they shan't have it. You'll make a fine soldier one of these days.”
So Isaac lifted his lamb from the cart, and trudged off victorious. He had always been a whig; and after this adventure, he became more decided than ever in his politics. He often used to boast that he would rather have a paper continental dollar, than a golden English guinea. The family amused themselves by exciting his zeal, and Polly made him believe he was such a famous whig, that the British would certainly carry him off to prison. He generally thought he was fully capable of defending himself; but when he saw four soldiers approaching the house one day, he concluded the force was rather too strong for him, and hastened to hide himself in the woods.
His temper partook of the general strength and vehemence of his character. Having put a small quant.i.ty of gunpowder on the stove of the school-house, it exploded, and did some injury to the master. One of the boys, who was afraid of being suspected of the mischief, in order to screen himself, cried out, ”Isaac Hopper did it!”--and Isaac was punished accordingly. Going home from school, he seized the informer as they were pa.s.sing through a wood, tied him up to a tree, and gave him a tremendous thras.h.i.+ng. The boy threatened to tell of it; but he a.s.sured him that he would certainly kill him if he did; so he never ventured to disclose it.
In general, his conscience reproved him as soon as he had done anything wrong, and he hastened to make atonement. A poor boy, who attended the same school, usually brought a very scanty dinner. One day, the spirit of mischief led Isaac to spoil the poor child's provisions by filling his little pail with sand. When the boy opened it, all eagerness to eat his dinner, the tears came into his eyes; for he was very hungry. This touched Isaac's heart instantly. ”Oh, never mind, Billy,” said he. ”I did it for fun; but I'm sorry I did it.. Come, you shall have half of my dinner.” It proved a lucky joke for Billy; for from that day henceforth, Isaac always helped him plentifully from his own stock of provisions.
Isaac and his elder brother were accustomed to set traps in the woods to catch partridges. One day, when he was about six years old, he went to look at the traps early in the morning, and finding his empty, he took a plump partridge from his brother's trap, put it in his own, and carried it home as his. When his brother examined the traps, he said he was sure _he_ caught the bird, because there were feathers sticking to his trap; but Isaac maintained that there were feathers sticking to his also.
After he went to bed, his conscience scorched him for what he had done.
As soon as he rose in the morning, he went to his mother and said, ”What shall I do? I have told a lie, and I feel dreadfully about it. That _was_ Sam's partridge. I said I took it from my trap; and so I did; but I put it in there first.”
”My son, it is a wicked thing to tell a lie,” replied his mother. ”You must go to Sam and confess, and give him the bird.”
Accordingly, he went to his brother, and said, ”Sam, here's your partridge. I did take it out of my trap; but I put it in there first.”
His brother gave him a talking, and then forgave him.
Being a very bright, manly boy, he was intrusted to carry grain several miles to mill, when he was only eight years old. On one of these occasions, he arrived just as another boy, who preceded him, had alighted to open the gate. ”Just let me drive in before you shut it,”
said Isaac, ”and then I shall have no need to get down from my wagon.”
The boy patiently held the gate for him to pa.s.s through; but, Isaac, without stopping to thank him, whipped up his horse, arrived at the mill post haste, and claimed the right to be first served, because he was the first comer. When the other boy found he was compelled to wait, he looked very much dissatisfied, but said nothing. Isaac chuckled over his victory at first, but his natural sense of justice soon suggested better thoughts. He asked himself whether he had done right thus to take advantage of that obliging boy? The longer he reflected upon it, the more uncomfortable he felt. At last, he went up to the stranger and said frankly, ”I did wrong to drive up to the mill so fast, and get my corn ground, when you were the one who arrived first; especially as you were so obliging as to hold the gate open for me to pa.s.s through. I was thinking of nothing but fun when I did it. Here's sixpence to make up for it.” The boy was well pleased with the amend thus honorably offered, and they parted right good friends.
At nine years old, he began to drive a wagon to Philadelphia, to sell vegetables and other articles from his father's farm; which he did very satisfactorily, with the a.s.sistance of a neighbor, who occupied the next stall in the market. According to the fas.h.i.+on of the times, he wore a broad-brimmed hat, and small-clothes with long stockings. Being something of a dandy, he prided himself upon having his shoes very clean, and his white dimity small clothes without spot or blemish. He caught rabbits, and sold them, till he obtained money enough to purchase bra.s.s buckles for his knees, and for the straps of his shoes. The first time he made his appearance in the city with this new finery, he felt his ambition concerning personal decoration completely satisfied. The neatness of his dress, and his manly way of proceeding, attracted attention, and induced his customers to call him ”THE LITTLE GOVERNOR.”
For several years, he was universally known in the market by that t.i.tle.
Fortunately, his father had no wish to obtain undue advantage in the sale of his produce; for had it been otherwise, his straight-forward little son would have proved a poor agent in transacting his affairs.
One day, when a citizen inquired the price of a pair of chickens, he answered, with the utmost simplicity, ”My father told me to sell them for fifty cents if I could; and if not, to take forty.”
”Well done, my honest little fellow!” said the gentleman, smiling, ”I will give you whatever is the current price. I shall look out for you in the market; and whenever I see you, I shall always try to trade with you.” And he kept his word.
When quite a small boy, he was sent some distance of an errand, and arrived just as the family were about to sit down to supper. There were several pies on the table, and they invited him to partake. The long walk had whetted his appet.i.te, and the pies looked exceedingly tempting; but the shyness of childhood led him to say, ”No, I thank you.” When he had delivered his message, he lingered, and lingered, hoping they would ask him again. But the family were Quakers, and they understood yea to mean yea, and nay to mean nay. They would have considered it a mere worldly compliment to repeat the invitation; so they were silent. Isaac started for home, much repenting of his bashfulness, and went nearly half of the way revolving the subject in his mind. He then walked back to the house, marched boldly into the supper-room, and said, ”I told a lie when I was here. I did want a piece of pie; but I thought to be sure you would ask me again.” This explicit avowal made them all smile, and he was served with as much pie as he wished to eat.
The steadfastness of his whig principles led him to take a lively interest in anecdotes concerning revolutionary heroes. His mother had a brother in Philadelphia, who lived in a house formerly occupied by William Penn, at the corner of Second Street and Norris Alley. This uncle frequently cut and made garments for General Was.h.i.+ngton, Benjamin Franklin, and other distinguished men. Nothing pleased Isaac better than a visit to this city relative; and when there, his boyish mind was much occupied with watching for the famous men, of whom he had heard so much talk. Once, when General Was.h.i.+ngton came there to order some garments, he followed him a long distance from the shop. The General had observed his wonder and veneration, and was amused by it. Coming to a corner of the street, he turned round suddenly, touched his hat, and made a very low bow. This playful condescension so completely confused his juvenile admirer, that he stood blus.h.i.+ng and bewildered for an instant, then walked hastily away, without remembering to return the salutation. The tenderness of spirit often manifested by him, was very remarkable in such a resolute and mischievous boy. There was an old unoccupied barn in the neighborhood, a favorite resort of swallows in the Spring-time. When he was about ten years old, he invited a number of boys to meet him the next Sunday morning, to go and pelt the swallows. They set off on this expedition with antic.i.p.ations of a fine frolic; but before they had gone far, Isaac began to feel a strong conviction that he was doing wrong. He told his companions he thought it was very cruel sport to torment and kill poor little innocent birds; especially as they might destroy mothers, and then the little ones would be left to starve. There was a Quaker meeting-house about a mile and a half distant, and he proposed that they should all go there, and leave the swallows in peace. But the boys only laughed at him, and ran off shouting, ”Come on! Come on!” He looked after them sorrowfully for some minutes, reproaching himself for the suffering he had caused the poor birds. He then walked off to meeting alone; and his faithfulness to the light within him was followed by a sweet peacefulness and serenity of soul. The impression made by this incident, and the state of mind he enjoyed while in meeting, was one of the earliest influences that drew him into the Society of Friends.--When he returned home, he heard that one of the boys had broken his arm while stoning the swallows, and had been writhing with pain, while he had been enjoying the consolations of an approving conscience.
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