Thus bearing up bravely against the pelting storms of life, he went on, hand in hand with his beloved Sarah.  But at last, he was called to part with the steady friend and pleasant companion of his brightest and his darkest hours.  She passed from him into the spiritual world on the eighteenth of the Sixth Month, (June,) 1822, in the forty-seventh year of her age.  She suffered much from the wasting pains of severe dyspepsia; but religious hope and faith enabled her to endure all her trials with resignation, and to view the approach of death with cheerful serenity of soul.  Toward the close of her life, the freshness of her complexion was injured by continual suffering; but though pale, she remained a handsome woman to the last.  During her long illness, she received innumerable marks of respect and affection from friends and neighbors; for she was beloved by all who knew her.  A short time before her death, she offered the following prayer for the dear ones she was so soon to leave; “O Lord, permit me to ask thy blessing for this family.  Thy favor is better than all the world can give.  For want of keeping close to thy counsel, my soul has often been pierced with sorrow.  Pity my weakness.  Look thou from heaven, and forgive.  Enable me, I beseech thee, to renew my covenant, and so to live under the influence of thy Holy Spirit, as to keep it.  Preserve me in the hour of temptation.  Thou alone knowest how prone I am to err on the right side and on the left.  Bless the children!  O Lord, visit and re-visit their tender minds.  Lead them in the paths of uprightness, for thy name’s sake.  I ask not riches nor honor for them; but an inheritance in thy ever-blessed truth.”  She left nine children, the youngest but six years old, to mourn the loss of a most tender careful and self-sacrificing mother.

While her bereaved husband was still under the shadow of this great grief, he was called to part with his son Isaac, who in little more than a year, followed his mother, at the early age of fifteen.  He was a sedate gentle lad, and had always been a very pleasant child to his parents.  His father cherished his memory with great tenderness, and seldom spoke of him without expressing his conviction that if he had lived he would have become a highly acceptable minister in the Society of Friends; a destiny which would have been more agreeable to his parental feelings, than having a son President of the United States.

Soon after this melancholy event, Friend Hopper went to Maryland, to visit two sisters who resided there.  He was accompanied in this journey by his wife’s brother, David Tatum.  At an inn where they stopped for refreshment, the following characteristic incident occurred:  A colored girl brought in a pitcher of water.  “Art thou a slave?” said Friend Hopper.  When she answered in the affirmative, he started up and exclaimed, “It is against my principles to be waited upon by a slave.”  His more timid brother-in-law inquired, in a low tone