In those days, Isaac did not profess to be a Quaker.  He used the customary language of the world, and liked to display his well-proportioned figure in neat and fashionable clothing.  The young women of his acquaintance, it is said, looked upon him with rather favorable eyes; but his thoughts never wandered from Sarah Tatum for a single day.  Once, when he had a new suit of clothes, and stylish boots, the tops turned down with red, a young man of his acquaintance invited him to go home with him on Saturday evening and spend Sunday.  He accepted the invitation, and set out well pleased with the expedition.  The young man had a sister, who took it into her head that the visit was intended as an especial compliment to herself.  The brother was called out somewhere in the neighborhood, and as soon as she found herself alone with their guest, she began to specify, in rather significant terms, what she should require of a man who wished to marry her.—­Her remarks made Isaac rather fidgetty; but he replied, in general terms, that he thought her ideas on the subject were very correct.  “I suppose you think my father will give me considerable money,” said she; “but that is a mistake.  Whoever takes me must take me for myself alone.”

The young man tried to stammer out that he did not come on any such errand; but his wits were bewildered by this unexpected siege, and he could not frame a suitable reply.  She mistook his confusion for the natural timidity of love, and went on to express the high opinion she entertained of him.  Isaac looked wistfully at the door, in hopes her brother would come to his rescue.  But no relief came from that quarter, and fearing he should find himself engaged to be married without his own consent, he caught up his hat and rushed out.  It was raining fast, but he splashed through mud and water, without stopping to choose his steps.  Crossing the yard in this desperate haste, he encountered the brother, who called out, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going home,” he replied.

“Going home!” exclaimed his astonished friend, “Why it is raining hard; and you came to stay all night.  What does possess you, Isaac?  Come back!  Come back, I say!”

“I won’t come back!” shouted Isaac, from the distance.  “I’m going home.”  And home he went.—­His new clothes were well spattered, and his red-top boots loaded with mud; but though he prided himself on keeping his apparel in neat condition, he thought he had got off cheaply on this occasion.

Soon after he went to reside in Philadelphia, a sea captain by the name of Cox came to his uncle’s on a visit.  As the captain was one day passing through Norris Alley, he met a young colored man, named Joe, whose master he had known in Bermuda.  He at once accused him of being a runaway slave, and ordered him to go to the house with him.  Joe called him his old friend, and seemed much pleased at the meeting.  He said he had been sent from Bermuda to New-York in a vessel, which he named; he had obtained