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Updated: May 16, 2025
Eliphalet Hopper, on his return from business, was met on the steps and requested to wear his Sunday clothes. Like the good republican that he was, Mr. Hopper refused. He had ascertained that the golden charm which made the Brices worthy of tribute had been lost. Commercial supremacy, that was Mr. Hopper's creed.
Like winged seed scattered in far-off soils, they will produce a forest-growth in the future, long after the original stock is dead, and its dust dispersed to the winds. In Friend Hopper's last years, memory, as usual with the old, was busily employed in reproducing the past; and in his mind the pictures she presented were uncommonly vivid.
Hopper's cigar and drinks his whiskey. And Eliphalet understands that the good Lord put some fools into the world in order to give the smart people a chance to practise their talents. Mr. Hopper neither drinks nor smokes, but he uses the spittoon with more freedom in this atmosphere. When at length the Captain has marched out, with a conscious but manly air, Mr.
Hopper's equanimity was spoken of at the widow's table. At four o'clock, Mr. Hopper took an Olive Street car, tucking himself into the far corner where he would not be disturbed by any ladies who might enter. In the course of an hour or so, he alighted at the western gate of the camp on the Olive Street road.
The children clung round Friend Hopper's knees, crying and sobbing, and begging that he would not let those men take away their father. But the fact that the poor fellow had acknowledged himself a slave rendered resistance hopeless. He was taken before a magistrate, and thence to prison. Friend Hopper was with him when his master came the next day to carry him away.
The young man took a step forward, and then stood staring at her with such a comical expression of injury on his face as was too much for Miss Jinny's serenity. She laughed. That laugh also struck minor chords upon Mr. Hopper's heart-strings. But the young gentleman very properly grew angry. "You've no right to treat me the way you do, Virginia," he cried.
Eliphalet Hopper's eyes were glued to the mild-mannered man who told the story, and his hair rose under his hat. "By the way, Lige, how's that boy, Tato? Somehow after I let you have him on the 'Louisiana', I thought I'd made a mistake to let him run the river. Easter's afraid he'll lose the little religion she taught him." It was the Captain's turn to be grave.
However, he took the joke as good naturedly as it was offered, and the books passed free, on the assurance that they were all for his own library. Friend Hopper's bookstore in New-York was a place of great resort for members of his own sect.
The mittened hands reached for the wheel at this juncture and an unlooked-for "jippity skip" precipitated the young passenger into The Hopper's lap. This mishap was attended with the jolliest baby laughter. Gently but with much firmness The Hopper restored the youngster to an upright position and supported him until sure he was able to sustain himself.
She has wealth, and manners, and looks. And her father is a good man. Too bad he holds such views on secession. I have always thought, sir, that you were singularly fortunate in your connection with him." There was a point of light now in each of Mr. Hopper's green eyes. But Mr. Cluyme continued: "What a pity, I say, that he should run the risk of crippling himself by his opinions.
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