, who, sixty years before, had preached the first sermon to
inmates of the State Prison, in Philadelphia. That good and gifted
clergyman was associated with his earliest recollections; for when he
was on one of his pleasant visits to his uncle Tatem, at six years old,
he went to meeting with him for the first time, and was seated on a
stool between his knees. The proceedings were a great novelty to him;
for Dr. Rogers was the first minister he ever saw in a pulpit. He never
forgot the text of that sermon. I often heard him repeat it, during the
last years of his life. The remembrance of these incidents, and the
great respect he had for the character of the prison missionary, at once
established in his mind a claim of old relationship between him and the
new inmate of his household.

He had the custom of sitting with his wife on the front-door-step during
the summer twilight, to catch the breeze, that always refreshes the
city of New-York, after a sultry day. On such occasions, the children of
the neighborhood soon began to gather round him. One of the most
intelligent and interesting pupils of the Deaf and Dumb Institution had
married Mr. Gallaudet, Professor in that Institution, and resided in the
next house. She had a bright lively little daughter, who very early
learned to imitate her rapid and graceful way of conversing by signs.
This child was greatly attracted toward Friend Hopper. The moment she
saw him, she would clap her tiny hands with delight, and toddle toward
him, exclaiming, "Opper! Opper!" When he talked to her, she would make
her little fingers fly, in the prettiest fashion, interpreting by signs
to her mute mother all that "Opper" had been saying. Her quick
intelligence and animated gestures were a perpetual source of amusement
to him. When he went down to his office in the morning, all the nurses
in the neighborhood were accustomed to stop in his path, that he might
have some playful conversation with the little ones in their charge. He
had a pleasant nick-name for them all; such as "Blue-bird," or
"Yellow-bird," according to their dress. They would run up to him as he
approached home, calling out, "Here's your little Blue-bird!"

His garden was another source of great satisfaction to him. It was not
bigger than a very small bed-room, and only half of it received the
sunshine. But he called the minnikin grass-plot his meadow, and talked
very largely about mowing his hay. He covered the walls and fences