“Wilt thou sell him to me for a crown!” inquired Joseph.  The man readily assented, and the poor animal was led to the stable of his new friend, where he was most kindly tended.  Suitable remedies and careful treatment soon restored him to health and beauty.  One day, when Friend Torrey was riding him in Phoenix Park, a gentleman looked very earnestly at the horse, and at last inquired whether his owner would be willing to sell him.  “Perhaps I would,” replied Joseph, “if I could get a very good master for him.”

“He so strongly resembles a favorite horse I once had, that I should think he was the same, if I didn’t know he was dead,” rejoined the stranger.

“Did he die in thy stable?” inquired Joseph.

The gentleman replied, “No.  He had the staggers very badly, and I sent him to the carrion-butchers.”

“I should be sorry to sell an animal to any man, who would send him to the carrion-butchers because he was diseased,” answered Joseph.  “If thou wert ill, how wouldst thou like to have thy throat cut, instead of being kindly nursed?”

With some surprise, the gentleman inquired whether he intended to compare him to a horse.  “No,” replied Joseph; “but animals have feelings, as well as human beings; and when they are afflicted with disease, they ought to be carefully attended.  If I consent to sell thee this horse, I shall exact a promise that thou wilt have him kindly nursed when he is sick, and not send him to have his throat cut.”

The gentleman readily promised all that was required, and said he should consider himself very fortunate to obtain a horse that so much resembled his old favorite.  When he called the next day, to complete the bargain, he inquired whether forty guineas would be a satisfactory price.  The conscientious Quaker answered, “I have good reason to believe the horse was once thine; and I am willing to restore him to thee on the conditions I have mentioned.  I have saved him from the carrion-butchers, but I will charge thee merely what I have expended for his food and medicine.  Let it be a lesson to thee to treat animals kindly, when they are diseased.  Never again send to the butchers a faithful servant, that cannot plead for himself, and may, with proper attention, again become useful to thee.”

How little Friend Hopper was inclined to minister to aristocratic prejudices, may be inferred from the following anecdote.  One day, while he was visiting a wealthy family in Dublin, a note was handed to him, inviting him to dine the next day.  When he read it aloud, his host remarked, “Those people are very respectable, but not of the first circles.  They belong to our church, but not exactly to our set.  Their father was a mechanic.”

“Well I am a mechanic myself,” said Isaac.  “Perhaps if thou hadst known that fact, thou wouldst not have invited me?”

“Is it possible,” exclaimed his host, “that a man of your information and appearance can be a mechanic!”