“It is very strange,” rejoined she; “for I am sure they were new.  But if you have brought them back, of course we will change them.”

“O,” said he, “upon examination, I concluded that the big holes were made to put the feet in; and I liked the stockings so well, that I have come to buy another pair.”

At another time, he entered a crockery shop, where a young girl was tending.  He made up a very sorrowful face, and in whining tones, told her that he was in trouble and needed help.  She asked him to wait till the gentleman came; but he continued to beseech that she would take compassion on him.  The girl began to be frightened by his importunity, and looked anxiously toward the door.  At last, the man of the shop came in; and Friend Hopper said, “This young woman thinks she cannot help me out of my trouble; but I think she can.  The fact is, we are going to have company, and so many of our tumblers are broken, that I came to ask if she would sell me a few.”

One day, when he was walking quickly up the Bowery, his foot slipped on a piece of orange-peel, and he fell prostrate on the sidewalk.  He started up instantly, and turning to a young man behind him, he said, “Couldst thou have done that any better?”

He very often mingled with affairs in the street, as he passed along.  One day, when he saw a man beating his horse brutally, he stepped up to him and said, very seriously, “Dost thou know that some people think men change into animals when they die?”

The stranger’s attention was arrested by such an unexpected question, and he answered that he never was acquainted with anybody who had that belief.

“But some people do believe it,” rejoined Friend Hopper; “and they also believe that animals may become men.  Now I am thinking if thou shouldst ever be a horse, and that horse should ever be a man, with such a temper as thine, the chance is thou wilt get some cruel beatings.”  Having thus changed the current of his angry mood, he proceeded to expostulate with him in a friendly way; and the poor beast was reprieved, for that time, at least.

He could imitate the Irish brogue very perfectly; and it was a standing jest with him to make every Irish stranger believe he was a countryman.  During his visit to Ireland, he had become so well acquainted with various localities, that I believe he never in any instance failed to deceive them, when he said, “Och! and sure I came from old Ireland meself.”  After amusing himself in this way for a while, he would tell them, “It is true I did come from Ireland; but, to confess the truth, I went there first.”

Once, when he saw two Irishmen fighting, he seized one of them by the arm, and said, “I’m from ould Ireland.  If thou must fight, I’m the man for thee.  Thou hadst better let that poor fellow alone.  I’m a dale stouter than he is; and sure it would be braver to fight me.”  The man thus accosted looked at him with surprise, for an instant, then burst out laughing, threw his coat across his arm, and walked off.