in Israel--I never meant--." His strength was nearly
exhausted; but after a pause, he pressed my hand, and added, "Tell them
I love them _all_." I had previously asked and obtained permission to
write his biography; and from these broken sentences, I understood that
he wished me to convey in it a message to the Society of Friends;
including the "Orthodox" branch, with whom he had been brought into
painful collision, in years gone by.

After several hours of restlessness and suffering, he fell into a
tranquil slumber, which lasted a long time. The serene expression of his
countenance remained unchanged, and there was no motion of limb or
muscle, when the spirit passed away. This was between eight and nine
o'clock in the evening, on the seventh of May, 1852. After a long
interval of silent weeping, his widow laid her head on the shoulder of
one of his sons, and said, "Forty-seven years ago this very day, my good
father died; and from that day to this, he has been the best friend I
ever had."

No public buildings were hung with crape, when news went forth that the
Good Samaritan had gone. But prisoners, and poor creatures in dark and
desolate corners, wept when they heard the tidings. Ann W. with whose
waywardness he had borne so patiently, escaped from confinement, several
miles distant, and with sobs implored "to see that good old man once
more." Michael Stanley sent the following letter to the Committee of the
Prison Association: "When I read the account of the venerable Friend
Hopper's death, I could not help weeping. It touched a tender chord in
my heart, when I came to the account of his being the prisoner's friend.
My soul responded to that; for I had realized it. About six years ago,
I was one of those who got good advice from 'the old man.' I carried it
out, and met with great success. I was fatherless, motherless, and
friendless, with no home, nobody to take me by the hand. I felt, as the
poet has it,

"'A pilgrim stranger here I roam,
From place to place I'm driven;
My friends are gone, and I'm in gloom;
This earth is all a lonely tomb;
I have no home but heaven.'

"Go on in the work of humanity and love, till the Good Master shall say,
'It is enough. Come up higher.'"

Nearly all the domestics in Friend Hopper's neighborhood attended the
funeral solemnities. One of these said with tears, "I am an orphan; but
while he lived, I always felt as if I had a father. He always had
something pleasant