Friend Hopper inquired whether he was not aware that it was wrong to tell falsehoods, and to get men drunk.

“I suppose it was wrong,” he replied.  “But liberty is sweet; and none of us know what we would do to secure it, till we are tried.”

He afterward returned to Philadelphia, where he supported his family comfortably, and remained unmolested.

JAMES DAVIS.

In 1795, James escaped from bondage in Maryland, and went to Philadelphia, where he soon after married.  He remained undisturbed for ten years, during which time he supported himself and family comfortably by sawing wood.  But one day, in the year 1805, his master called to see him, accompanied by two other men, who were city constables.  He appeared to be very friendly, asked James how he was getting along, and said he was glad to see him doing so well.  At last, he remarked, “As you left my service without leave, I think you ought to make me some compensation for your time.  Autumn is now coming on, and as that is always a busy season for wood-sawyers, perhaps you can make me a small payment at that time.”

This insidious conversation threw James completely off his guard, and he promised to make an effort to raise some money for his master.  As soon as he had said enough to prove that he was his bondsman, the slaveholder threw off the mask of kindness, and ordered the constables to seize and hand-cuff him.  His wife and children shrieked aloud, and Isaac T. Hopper, who happened to be walking through the street at the time, hastened to ascertain the cause of such alarming sounds.  Entering the house, he found the colored man hand-cuffed, and his wife and children making the loud lamentations, which had arrested his attention.  The poor woman told how her husband had been duped by friendly words, and now he was to be torn from his family and carried off into slavery.  Friend Hopper’s feelings were deeply affected at witnessing such a heartrending scene, and he exerted his utmost eloquence to turn the master from his cruel purpose.  The wife and children wept and entreated also; but it was all in vain.  He replied to their expostulations by ridicule, and proceeded to hurry his victim off to prison.  The children clung round Friend Hopper’s knees, crying and sobbing, and begging that he would not let those men take away their father.  But the fact that the poor fellow had acknowledged himself a slave rendered resistance hopeless.  He was taken before a magistrate, and thence to prison.

Friend Hopper was with him when his master came the next day to carry him away.  With a countenance expressive of deepest anguish, the unhappy creature begged to speak a word in private, before his master entered.  When Friend Hopper took him into an adjoining room, he exclaimed in an imploring tone, “Can’t you give me some advice?” Agitated by most painful sympathy, the Friend knew not what to answer.  After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Don’t try to run away till thou art sure thou hast a good chance.”  This was all he could do for the poor fellow.  He was obliged to submit to seeing him bound with cords, put into a carriage, and driven off like a sheep to the slaughter-house.