ildren than he was. His Sarah, as he
was wont to call her, was endowed with qualities well calculated to
retain a strong hold on the affections of a sensible and conscientious
man. Her kindly disposition, and the regular, simple habits of her life,
were favorable to the preservation of that beauty, which had won his
boyish admiration. Her wavy brown hair was softly shaded by the delicate
transparent muslin of her Quaker cap; her face had a tender and benign
expression; and her complexion was so clear, that an old gentleman, who
belonged to the Society of Friends, and who was of course not much
addicted to poetic comparisons, used to say he could never look at her
without thinking of the clear pink and white of a beautiful
conch-shell. She was scrupulously neat, and had something of that
chastened coquetry in dress, which is apt to characterize the handsome
women of her orderly sect. Her drab-colored gown, not high in the neck,
was bordered by a plain narrow tucker of fine muslin, visible under her
snow-white neckerchief. A white under-sleeve came just below the elbow,
where it terminated in a very narrow band, nicely stitched, and fastened
with two small silver buttons, connected by a chain. She was a very
industrious woman, and remarkably systematic in her household affairs;
thus she contrived to find time for everything, though burdened with the
care of a large and increasing family. The apprentices always sat at
table with them, and she maintained a perfect equality between them and
her own children. She said it was her wish to treat them precisely as
she would like to have _her_ boys treated, if _they_ should become
apprentices. On Sunday evenings, which they called First Day evenings,
the whole family assembled to hear Friend Hopper read portions of
scripture, or writings of the early Friends. On such occasions, the
mother often gave religious exhortations to the children and
apprentices, suited to the occurrences of the week, and the temptations
to which they were peculiarly subject. During the last eight years of
her life, she was a recommended minister of the Society of Friends, and
often preached at their meetings. Her manners were affable, and her
conversation peculiarly agreeable to young people. But she knew when
silence was seemly, and always restrained her discourse within the
limits of discretion. When any of her children talked more than was
useful, she was accustomed to administer this concise caution: "M