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 blushing 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 anticipations 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.

At an early age, he was noted for being a sure shot, with bow and arrow, or with gun.  A pair of king-birds built in his father’s orchard, and it was desirable to get rid of them, because they destroy honey-bees.  Isaac watched for an opportunity, and one day when the birds flew away in quest of food for their young, he transfixed them both at once with his arrow.  At first, he was much delighted with this exploit; but his compassionate heart soon became troubled about the orphan little ones, whom he pictured to himself as anxiously expecting the parents that would never return to feed them again.  This feeling gained such strength within him, that he early relinquished the practice of shooting, though he found keen excitement in the pursuit, and was not a little proud of his skill.

Once, when he had entrapped a pair of partridges, he put them in a box, intending to keep them there.  But he soon began to query with himself whether creatures accustomed to fly must not necessarily be very miserable shut up in such a limited space.  He accordingly opened the door.  One of the partridges immediately walked out, but soon returned to prison to invite his less ventursome mate.  The box was removed a few days after, but the birds remained about the garden for months, often coming to the door-step to pick up crumbs that were thrown to them.  When the mating-season returned the next year, they retired to the woods.