zealous theological controversy among Friends naturally subsided after
the separation between the opposing parties had become an old and
settled fact. Consequently the demand for Quaker books diminished more
and more. The Anti-Slavery Society, at that time, needed a Treasurer and
Book-Agent; and Friend Hopper was proposed as a suitable person for that
office. As only a small portion of his time was occupied with the sale
of books he had on hand, he concluded to accept the proposition. He was
then nearly seventy years old; but he appeared at least twenty years
younger, in person and manners. His firm, elastic step seemed like a
vigorous man of fifty. He would spring from the Bowery cars, while they
were in motion, with as much agility as a lad of fourteen. His hair was
not even sprinkled with gray. It looked so black and glossy, that a
young lady, who was introduced to him, said she thought he wore a wig
unnaturally dark for his age. It was a favorite joke of his to make
strangers believe he wore a wig; and they were not easily satisfied
that he spoke in jest, until they examined his head.

The roguery of his boyhood had subsided into a love of little
mischievous tricks; and the playful tone of humor, that rippled through
his conversation, frequently reminded me of the Cheeryble Brothers, so
admirably described by Dickens. If some one rang at the door, and
inquired for Mr. Hopper, he always answered, "There is no such person
lives here." If the stranger urged that he had been directed by a man
who said he knew Mr. Hopper, he would persevere in saying, "There must
be some mistake. No such person lives here." At last, when the
disappointed visitor turned to go away, he would call out, "Perhaps thou
means Isaac T. Hopper? That is _my_ name."

Being called upon to give a receipt to a Catholic priest for some money
deposited in his hands, he simply wrote "Received of John Smith." When
the priest had read it, he handed it back and said, "I am disbursing
other people's money, and shall be obliged to show this receipt;
therefore, I should like to have you write my name, the Reverend John
Smith." "I have conscientious scruples about using titles," replied
Friend Hopper. "However, I will try to oblige thee." He took another
slip of paper, and wrote, "Received of John Smith, who _calls_ himself
the Reverend." The priest smiled, and accepted the compromise; being
well aware that the pleasantry originated in no personal or sectaria