is mind was deeply interested in the subject, and he read and
reflected upon it a great deal. The result of his investigations was a
settled conviction that executions did not tend to diminish crime, but
rather to increase it, by their demoralizing effect on the community. He
regarded them with abhorrence, as a barbarous custom, entirely out of
place in a civilized country and a Christian age.

Concerning the rights of women, he scarcely needed any new light from
modern theories; for, as a Quaker, he had been early accustomed to
practical equality between men and women in all the affairs of the
Society. He had always been in the habit of listening to them as
preachers, and of meeting them on committees with men, for education,
for the care of the poor, for missions to the Indians, and for financial
regulations. Therefore, it never occurred to him that there was anything
unseemly in a woman's using any gift with which God had endowed her, or
transacting any business, which she had the ability to do well.

After his removal to New-York, incidents now and then occurred, which
formed pleasant links with his previous life in Philadelphia. Sometimes
slaves, whom he had rescued many years before, or convicts, whom he had
encouraged to lead a better life, called to see him and express their
gratitude. Sometimes their children came to bless him. There was one old
colored woman, who never could meet him without embracing him. Although
these demonstrations were not always convenient, and did not partake of
the quiet character of Quaker discipline, he would never say anything to
repress the overflowings of her warm old heart. As one of his sons
passed through Bond-street, he saw an old colored man rubbing his
knees, and making the most lively gesticulations of delight. Being asked
what was the matter, he pointed across the street, and exclaimed, "O, if
I was only sure that was Friend Hopper of Philadelphia! If I was only
_sure_!" When told that he was not mistaken, he rushed up to the old
gentleman, threw his arms about his neck, and hugged him.

When I told him of Julia Pell, a colored Methodist preacher, whose
fervid untutored eloquence had produced an exciting effect on my mind,
he invited her to come and take tea with him. In the course of
conversation, he discovered that she was the daughter of Zeke, the slave
who outwitted his purchaser; as described in the preceding narratives.
It was quite an interesting event in her life