“Yes, it is very red,” replied Friend Hopper; “but is not so red as thy nose.”  The passengers all smiled, and the man seized the first opportunity to make his escape.

A poor woman once entered an omnibus, which was nearly full, and stood waiting for some one to make room.  A proud-looking lady sat near Friend Hopper, and he asked her to move a little, to accommodate the new comer.  But she looked very glum, and remained motionless.  After examining her countenance for an instant, he said, “If thy face often looks so, I shouldn’t like to have thee for a neighbor.”  The passengers exchanged smiles at this rebuke, and the lady frowned still more deeply.

One of the jury in the Darg case was “a son of Abraham,” rather conspicuous for his prejudice against colored people.  Some time after the proceedings were dropped, Friend Hopper happened to meet him, and entered into conversation on the subject.  The Jew was very bitter against “that rascally thief, Tom Hughes.”  “It does not become thee to be so very severe,” said Friend Hopper; “for thy ancestors were slaves in Egypt, and went off with the gold and silver jewels they borrowed of their masters.”

One day he met several of the Society of Friends, whom he had not seen for some time.  Among them was an Orthodox Friend, who was rather stiff in his manners.  The others shook hands with Isaac; but when he approached “the Orthodox,” he merely held out his finger.

“Why dost thou offer me thy finger?” said he.

“I don’t allow people of certain principles to get very deep hold of me,” was the cold reply.

“Thou needest have no uneasiness on that score,” rejoined Friend Hopper; “for there never was anything deep in thee to get hold of.”

The sense of justice, so conspicuous in boyhood, always remained a distinguishing trait in his character.  Once, after riding half a mile, he perceived that he had got into the wrong omnibus.  When he jumped out, the driver called for pay; but he answered, “I don’t owe thee anything.  I’ve been carried the wrong way.”  This troubled him afterward, when he considered that he had used the carriage and horses, and that the mistake was his own fault.  He kept on the look-out for the driver, but did not happen to see him again, until several weeks afterward.  He called to him to stop, and paid the sixpence.

“Why, you refused to pay me, when I asked you,” said the driver.

“I know I did,” he replied; “but I repented of it afterward.  I was in a hurry then, and I did not reflect that the mistake was my fault, not thine; and that I ought to pay for riding half a mile with thy horses, though they did carry me the wrong way.”  The man laughed, and said he didn’t often meet with such conscientious passengers.