Isaac T. Hopper: A True Life

by Lydia Maria Child

He was as precocious in love, as in other matters. Not far from his home, lived a prosperous and highly respectable Quaker family, named Tatum. There were several sons, but only one daughter; a handsome child, with clear, fair complexion, blue eyes, and a profusion of brown curly hair. She was Isaac's cousin, twice removed; for their great-grandfathers were half-brothers. When he was only eight years old, and she was not yet five, he made up his mind that little Sarah Tatum was his wife. He used to walk a mile and a half every day, on purpose to escort her to school. When they rambled through the woods, in search of berries, it was his delight to sit beside her on some old stump, and twist her glossy brown ringlets over his fingers. A lovely picture they must have made in the green, leafy frame-work of the woods—that fair, blue-eyed girl, and the handsome, vigorous boy! When he was fourteen years old, he wrote to her his first love-letter. The village schoolmaster taught for very low wages, and was not remarkably well-qualified for his task; as was generally the case at that early period. Isaac's labor was needed on the farm all the summer; consequently, he was able to attend school only three months during the winter. He was, therefore, so little acquainted with the forms of letter-writing, that he put Sarah's name inside the letter, and his own on the outside. She, being an only daughter, and a great pet in her family, had better opportunities for education. She told her young lover that was not the correct way to write a letter, and instructed him how to proceed in future. From that time, they corresponded constantly.

Isaac likewise formed a very strong friendship with his cousin Joseph Whitall, who was his schoolmate, and about his own age. They shared together all their joys and troubles, and were companions in all boyish enterprises. Thus was a happy though laborious childhood passed in the seclusion of the woods, in the midst of home influences and rustic occupations. His parents had no leisure to bestow on intellectual culture; for they had a numerous family of children, and it required about all their time to feed and clothe them respectably. But they were worthy, kind-hearted people, whose moral precepts were sustained by their upright example. His father was a quiet man, but exceedingly firm and energetic. When he had made up his mind to do a thing, no earthly power could turn him from his purpose; especially if any question of conscience were involved therein. During the revolutionary war, he faithfully maintained his testimony against the shedding of blood, and suffered considerably for refusing to pay military taxes. Isaac's mother was noted for her fearless character, and blunt directness of speech. She was educated in the Presbyterian faith, and this was a source of some discordant feeling between her and her husband. The preaching of her favorite ministers seemed to him harsh and rigid, while she regarded Quaker exhortations as insipid and formal. But as time passed on, her religious views assimilated more and more with his; and about twenty-four years after their marriage, she joined the Society of Friends, and frequently spoke at their meetings. She was a spiritual minded woman, always ready to sympathise with the afflicted, and peculiarly kind to animals. They were both extremely hospitable and benevolent to the poor. On Sunday evenings, they convened all the family to listen to the Scriptures and other religious books.—In his journal Isaac alludes to this custom, and says: "My mind was often solemnized by these opportunities, and I resolved to live more consistently with the principles of christian sobriety."

When he was sixteen years old, it became a question to what business he should devote himself.—There was a prospect of obtaining a situation for him in a store at Philadelphia; and for that purpose it was deemed expedient that he should take up his abode for a while with his maternal uncle, whose house he had been so fond of visiting in early boyhood. He did not succeed in obtaining the situation he expected, but remained in the city on the look-out for some suitable employment. Meanwhile, he was very helpful to his uncle, who, finding him diligent and skillful, tried to induce him to learn his trade.—It was an occupation ill-adapted to his vigorous body and active mind; but he was not of a temperament to fold his hands and wait till something "turned up;" and as his uncle was doing a prosperous business, he concluded to accept his proposition. About the same time, his beloved cousin, Joseph Whitall, was sent to Trenton to study law. This was rather a severe trial to Isaac's feelings. Not that he envied his superior advantages; but he had sad forebodings that separation would interrupt their friendship, and that such a different career would be very likely to prevent its renewal. They parted with mutual regret, and did not meet again for several years.

When Isaac bade adieu to the paternal roof, his mother looked after him thoughtfully, and remarked to one of his sisters, "Isaac is no common boy.—He will do something great, either for good or evil." She called him back and said, "My son, you are now going forth to make your own way in the world. Always remember that you are as good as any other person; but remember also that you are no better." With this farewell injunction, he departed for Philadelphia, where he soon acquired the character of a faithful and industrious apprentice.

But his boyish love of fun was still strong within him, and he was the torment of all his fellow apprentices. One of them, named William Roberts, proposed that they should go together into the cellar to steal a pitcher of cider. Isaac pulled the spile, and while William was drawing the liquor, he took an unobserved opportunity to hide it. When the pitcher was full, he pretended to look all around for it, without being able to find it. At last, he told his unsuspecting comrade that he must thrust his finger into the hole and keep it there, while he went to get another spile. William waited and waited for him to return, but when an hour or more had elapsed, his patience was exhausted, and he began to Halloo!—The noise, instead of bringing Isaac to his assistance, brought the mistress of the house, who caught the culprit at the cider-barrel, and gave him a severe scolding, to the infinite gratification of his mischievous companion.

Once, when the family were all going away, his uncle left the house in charge of him and another apprentice, telling them to defend themselves if any robbers came. Having a mind to try the courage of the lads, he returned soon after, and attempted to force a window in the back part of the house, which opened upon a narrow alley inclosed by a high fence. As soon as Isaac heard the noise, he seized an old harpoon that was about the premises, and told his companion to open the window the instant he gave the signal. His orders were obeyed, and he flung the harpoon with such force, that it passed through his uncle's vest and coat, and nailed him tight to the fence. When he told the story, he used to say he never afterward deemed it necessary to advise Isaac to defend himself.

Among the apprentices was one much older and stouter than the others. He was very proud of his physical strength, and delighted to play the tyrant over those who were younger and weaker than himself. When Isaac saw him knocking them about, he felt an almost irresistible temptation to fight; but his uncle was a severe man, likely to be much incensed by quarrels among his apprentices. He knew, moreover, that a battle between him and Samson would be very unequal; so he restrained his indignation as well as he could. But one day, when the big bully knocked him down, without the slightest provocation, he exclaimed, in great wrath, "If you ever do that again, I'll kill you. Mind what I say. I tell you I'll kill you."

Samson snapped his fingers and laughed, and the next day he knocked him down again. Isaac armed himself with a heavy window-bar, and when the apprentices were summoned to breakfast, he laid wait behind a door, and levelled a blow at the tyrant, as he passed through. He fell, without uttering a single cry. When the family sat down to breakfast, Mr. Tatem said, "Where is Samson?"

His nephew coolly replied, "I've killed him."

"Killed him!" exclaimed the uncle. "What do you mean?"