ISHMAEL; Or IN THE DEPTHS.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 447, 19 February 1890, Page 6

ISHMAEL; Or IN THE DEPTHS.

' By MRS EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHYVORTH,

Author of “ Self-Raised,” “Fair Play.” “Ihe Missing: Bride.” “A Noble Lord,” “ How . He Won Her.” “The Prince of i * Darkness,” “Tried for Her Life.” Etc.. Etc,

CHAPTER XXll.—(Continued.)

‘ Why should you refuse to take pay from me ?’ said Mr Middleton.

Ishmael perhaps could not answer that question to his own satisfaction. At all events, he hesitated a moment before he replied: * Why, you see, sir, what I do for the other professor is all in the line of my business ; but the small service I have just done for you is only a little bit of civility that I am always so glad to show to any gentleman I mean to anybody at all, sir; even a poor waggoner, I often hold horses for them, sir! And, bless you, they couldn't pay me a penny.’ ‘ But I can, my boy J and besides you not only held my horse, and watered him, and rubbed him down, and watched my carriage, but you fought a stout battle in defence of my goods, and gob yourself badly bruised by the thieves, and unjustly accused by me. Certainly, it is a poor offering I make in return for your sufferings in my interests. Here, my lad, I have thought better of it; here is a half eagle. Take it and buy something for yourself.’ 4 Indeed, indeed, sir, I cannot. Please don’t keep on asking me, persisted Ishmael, drawing back with a look of distress on his fine face.

‘Now, why could not the little fellow take the money that was pressed upon him? He wanted it badly enough, Heaven knows? His best clothes were all patches, and this five dollar gold piece would have bought him a new suit. And besides there was an 4 Illustrated History of the United States ’ in that book-shop, that really and truly Ishmael would have been ready to give a finger off either of his hands to possess; and its price was just three dollars. Now, why didn’t the little wretch take the money and buy the beautiful book with which his whole soul was enamoured ? The poor child did nob know himself. Bub you and I know, reader, don’t we ? We know that he could nob take that money with the arm of that black-eyed little lady around his neck ! Yes, the arm of Claudia was still most tenderly and protectingly encircling his neck, and every few minutes she would draw down his rough head caressingly to her osvn damask cheek. Shocking ! wasn’t it ? And you wonder how her aunt and uncle could have stood by and permitted it. Because they couldn’t help it! Miss Claudia was a little lady, angel born, who had never been contradicted in her life. Her father was a crotchety old fellow, with a 4 theory,’ one result of which was, that he let his trees and his daughter grow unpruned as they liked. But do not mistake Miss Claudia, or think her any better or worse than she really was. Her caresses of the peasant boy looked as if she was republican in her principles and 4 fast ’in her .manners. She was neither one nor the other. So far from being republican, she was the most ingrained little aristocrat that ever lived !

She was an aristocrat from the crown of her little, black, ringletted head to the sole of her tiny, gaitered foot; from her heart’s core to her scarf-skin; so perfect an aristocrat that she was quite unconscious of being so. For instance, she looked upon herself as very little lower than the angels ; and upon the working classes as very little higher than the brutes; if, in her heart, she acknowledged that all in human shape were human, that was about the utmost extent of her liberalism. She and they were both clay to be sure, but she was of the finest porcelain clay, and they of the coarsest potter’s earth. This theory had not been taught her, it was born in her, and so entirely natural and sincere that she was almost unconscious of its existence; certainly unsuspicious of its fallacy. Thus, you see, she caressed Ishmael, just exactly as she would have caressed her own Newfoundland dog; she defended his truth and honesty from false accusation, just as she would have defended Fido’s from a similar charge; she praised his fidelity and courage just as she would have praised Fido’s ; for, in very truth, she rated the peasant boy not one whit higher than the dog ! Had she been a degree less proud, had she looked upon Ishmael as a human being with like passions and emotions as her own, she might have been more reserved in her manner. But being as proud as she was, she caressed and protected the noble peasant-boy as a kind-hearted little lady would have carressed and protected a noble specimen of the canine race ! Therefore, what might have been considered forward and lowering in another young lady, was perfectly graceful and dignified in Miss Merlin.

But, meanwhile, the poor, earnest, enthusiastic boy ! He didn’t know that she rated him as low as any four-footed pet. He thought - she appreciated him very -highly, too highly, as a human being ! And liis great little heart burned and glowed with joy and gratitude ! And he would no more have taken pay for doing her uncle a service than he would have picked a pocket or robbed a hen-roost ! He just adored her lovely clemency, and he was even then turning over in his mind the problem,how he, a poor, poor boy, hardly able to afford himself a half-penny candle to read by after dark, could repay her kindness—what could he find, invent, or achieve to please her ? Of all this, Miss Claudia only understood his gratitude, and it pleased her as the gratitude of Fido might have done ! And she left his side for a moment, and raised herself on tiptoe and whispered to her uncle: * Uncle,- he is a noble fellow—isn’t he, now ? But he loves me better than he does you. So let me give him something.’ Mr Middleton silently placed the five dollar piece in her hand. ‘.No, noi:ho—not that ! Don’t you see it hurts his feelings to offer him that ?’ • Well—but what then V 4 I’ll tell you: When we drove up to “ Hamlin’s,” I saw him standing before the shop, with his hands in his pockets, staring at the books ip. the windows, juet as I have seen hungry children stare at the tarts and cakeß in apastry cook’s. And I know he is hungry for a book ! Now uncle, let me give him a book.’ ‘Yes; but had not I better give it to him, Claudia’’ ‘ Oh, if you like, and he’ll take It from you!' But, you know, there’s Fido now, who sometimes gets contrary, and won’t take anything from your hand, but , no matter how contrary he is, will always take

anything from mine. But you may try, uncle—you may try !’ . . ? This conversation was carried on in a whisper. When it was ended Mr M iddleton turned to Ishmael, and said : ‘.Very well, my boy ; I can but respect your scruples. Follow us back to Hamlin’s.’ And so saying, he helped his wife and his niece into the pony chaise, got in himself, and took the reins to drive on. Miss Claudia looked back and watched Ishmael as he limped painfully after them. The distance was very short, and they soon reached the shop. 4 Which is the window he was looking in, Claudia?’ inquired Mr Middleton. 4 This one on the left hand, uncle.’

4 Ah ! Come here, my boy ; look into this window now, and tell me which (of these books you would advise me to buy for a present to a young friend of mine ?’ The poor fellow looked up with so much perplexity in hiR face at the idea of this grave middle-aged gentleman asking advice of him, that Mr Middleton hastened to explain : ‘The reason I ask you, Ishmael, is because, you being a boy, would be a better judge of another boy’s tastes than an old man like me could be. So now judge by yourself, and tell me which book you think would please my young friend best. Look at them all, and taka time.’

4 Oh, yes, sir. But I don’t want time ! Anybody could tell in a minute which book a boy would like !’ 4 Which, then ?’ 1 Oh, this ! this ! this ! — 44 History of the United States,” all full of pictures !’ ‘But—here is “Robinson Crusoe,” and here is the 44 Arabian Nights why not choose them ?’

4 Oh, no, sir—don’t! They are about people that never lived, and things that aren’t true: and though they are very interesting, I know, there is no solid satisfaction in them like there is in this —’

4 Well, now, this. What is the great attraction of this to a boy? Why, it’s nothing but dry history,’ said Mr Middleton, with an amused smile, while he tried to 4 pump ’ the poor lad. 4 Oh, sir, but there’s so much in it! There’s Captain John Smith, and Sir Walter Raleigh, and Jamestown, and Plymouth, and the Pilgrim Fathers, and John Hancock, and Patrick Henry, and George Washington, and the Declaration of Independence, and Bunker’s Hill, and Yorktown ! Oh !!’ cried Ishmael, with an ardent burst of enthusiasm. 4 You seem to know already a deal more of the history of our country than some of my first-class young gentlemen have taken the trouble to learn,’ said Mr Middleton, in surprise 4 Oh, no, I don’t, sir. I know no more than what I have read in a little thin book, no bigger than your hand, sir, that was lent to me by the professor; but I know by that how much good there must be in this, sir.’ 4 Ah ! a taste of the dish has made you long for a feast.’ 4 Sir ?’ 4 Nothing, my boy, but that I shall follow your advice in the selection of a book,’ said the gentleman, as he entered the shop. The lady and the little girl remained in the carriage, and Ishmael stood feasting hie hungry eyes upon the books in the window. Presently the volume he admired so much disappeared. 4 There ! I shall never see it any more !’ said Ishmael, with a sigh; 4 but I’m glad some boy is going to get it! Oh, won’t he be happy to-night, though ! Wish it was I! No I don’t neither ; it’s a sin to covet !’ And a few minutes after the gentleman emerged from the shop with an oblong packet in his hand. ‘lt was the last copy he had left, my boy, and I have secured it 1 Now do yon really think my young friend will like it?’ asked Mr Middleton.

4 Oh, sir, won’t ha though, neither !’ exclaimed Ishmael, in sincere hearty sympathy with the prospective happiness of another. * Well, then, my little friend must take it,’ said Mr Middleton, offering the packet to Ishmael. * Sir !’ exclaimed the latter. * It is for you, my boy.’ 4 Oh, sir, I couldn’t take it, indeed ! It is only another way of paying me. for a common civility,’ said Ishmael, shrinking from the gift, yet longing for the book. ‘lt is not; it is a testimonial of my regard for you, my boy ! Receive it as such.’ 4 1 do not deserve such a testimonial, and cannot receive it, sir,’ persisted Ishmael. 4 There, uncle, I told you so !’ exclaimed Claudia, springing from the carriage and taking the book from the hand of Mr Middleton. She went to the side of Ishmael, put her arms around his neck, drew his head down against hers, leaned her bright cheek against his, and said : 4 Come, now, take the book ; I know you want it; take it like a good boy; take it for my sake.’ Still Ishmael hesitated a little. Then she raised the parcel and pressed it to her lips and handed it to him again, saying: 4 There, now, you see I’ve kissed it. Fido would take anything I kissed ; won’t you ?’ Ishmael now held out hie hands eagerly for the prize, took it and pressed it to his jacket, exclaiming awkwardly butearnestly: 4 Thank you, miss ! Oh, thank you a thousand, thousand times, miss ! You don’t know how much I wanted this book and how glad I am !’ 4 Oh, yes, I do. I’m a witch, and know people’s secret thoughts. But why didn’t you take the book when uncle offered it ?’ ‘lf you are a witch, miss, you can tell.’ 4 So I can ; it was because you don’t love uncle as well as me! Well, Fido doesn’t either. But uncle is a nice man for all that.’

4 1 wonder who “Fido” is,’ thought the poor boy. 4 1 do wonder who he is; her brother, I suppose.’ 4 Come, Claudia, my love, get into the carriage; we must go home.’ said Mr Middleton, as he assisted his niece to her seat. . > 4 1 thank much, sir, for this beautiful book,’ said Ishmael, going up to Mr Middleton and taking off his hat. 4 You are very welcome, my boy ; so run home now afid enjoy It,’, replied the gentleman, as he sprang into the carriage and took the reins. ‘“Run home?’’ how can he run home, uncle ? If he lives at the weaver’s, it is four miles off! How can he run it, or even walk it ? Don’t you see how badly hurt he is ? Why, he could scarcely limp from the pond to the shop! I think it would be only kind, uncle, to take him up beside yon. We pass close by the hut, you know, in going home, and we could set him down.’ 4 Como along, then, my little fellow ! The young princess says you are to ride home with us, and her highness’ wishes are not to bo disobeyed!’ laughed Mr Middleton, holding out bis hand to help the boy into the carriage. Ishmael made no objection to this proposal ; but eagerly clambered up to the offered seas beside the gentleman. The reins were moved, and they net off at a spanking pace, and were eoon bowling i

along the turnpike road that made a circuti through the forest toward Brudeiiell Heights. The sun had set, a fresh breeze had sprung up, and, as they were driving rapidly in the eye of the wind, there was scarcely opportunity for conversation. In little more than an hour they reached a point in the road within a few hundred yards of the weaver’s hut. ‘Here we are, my boy! Now, do you think you can get home without help?’ inquired Mr. Middleton, as he stopped the carriage. 4 Oh, yes, sir, thank you ! replied Ishmael, as he clambered down to the ground. He took off his hat beside the carriage, and making his beat Sabbath - school bow, said : 4 Good - evening, sir; good - evening, madam and miss, and thank you very much.’ 4 Good-evening, my little man ; there get along home with you out of the night air,’ said Mr Middleton. Mrs Middleton and the little lady nodded and smiled their adieux. And Ishmael struck into the narrow and half hidden footpath that led from the highway to the hut. The carriage started on its way. 4 A rather remarkable boy, that,’ said Mr Middleton, as they drove along the forest road encircling the crest of the hills towards Brudenell Heights, that moonlit, dewy evening ; 4 a rather remarkable boy ! He has an uncommonly fine head ! I should really like to examine it! The intellectual and moral organs seem wonderfully developed. I really should like to examine it carefully at my leisure.’ ‘He has a fine face, if it were not so pale and thin,’ said Mrs Middleton. 4 Poor, poor fellow,’ said Claudia, in a tone of deep pity ; 4 he is thin and pale, isn’t he ? And Fido is so fat and sleek ! I’m afraid he doesn’t get enough to eat, uncle !’ ‘Who, Fido?’ 4 No, the other one, the boy ! I say I’m afraid he don’t get enough to eat. Do you think he does ?’

* I—l’m afraid not, my dear !’ 4 Then I think it is a shame, uncle ! Rich people ought not to let the poor, who depend upon them, starve ! Papa says that I am to come into my mamma’s fortune as soon as lam eighteen. ’When I do,, nobody in this world shall want. Everybody shall have as much, as ever they can eat three times a day. Won’t that be nice ?’ 4 Magnificent, my little princess, if you can only carry out your ideas,’ replied her uncle.

4 Oh, but I will ! I will, if it takes every dollar of my income ! My mamma told me that when I grew up I must be the mother of the poor ! And doesn’t a mother feed her children ?’ “ Middleton laughed. • And as for that poor boy on the hill, he shall have tarts and cheese cakes, and plum pudding, and roast turkey and new books every day ; because I like him ; I like him so much; I like him better than I do anything in the world except Fido !’ ‘Well, my dear,’ said Mr Middleton, seizing this opportunity of administering an admonition, 4 like him as well as Fido, if you please ; but do not yet him quite as freely as you pet Fido.’ 4 But I will, if i choose to! Why shouldn’t I?’ inquired the young lady, erecting her haughty little head. 4 Because he is not a dog !’ dryly answered her uncle.

4 Oh ! but he likes petting just as much as Fido ! He does indeed, uncle ; I assure you ! Oh, I noticed that.’ 4 Nevertheless, Miss Claudia, I must object in future to your making a pet of the poor boy, whether you or he like it or not.’ 4 But I will, if I choose !’ persisted the little princess, throwing back her head and shaking all her ringlets. Mr Middleton sighed, shook his head.and turned to his wife, whispering, in a low tone :

4 What are we to do with this self-willed elf? To carry out her father’s ideas, and let her nature have unrestrained freedom to develop itself, will be to ruin her ! Unless she is controlled and guided, she is just the girl to grow up wild and eccentric, and end in running away with her own footman.’ These words were not intended for Miss Claudia’s ears ; but, notwithstanding, or rather, because of that, she heard evei-y syllable, and immediately fired up, exclaiming : 4 Who are you talking of marrying a footman? me ! me ! me ! ! Do you think that I would ever marry anyone beneath me V No, indeed ! I will live to be an old maid before I will marry anybody but a lord ! that I am determined upon !’ 4 You will never reach that consummation of your hopes, my dear, by petting a peasant boy, even though you do look upon him as little better than a dog,’ said Mr Middleton, as he drew up before the gates of Brudenell. A servant was in attendance to open them. And as the party were now at home, the conversation ceased for the present. Claudia ran to exhibit her purchases. Her favourite, Fido, ran to meet her, barking with delight. CHAPTER XXIII. ishjiael’s progress. Athwart his face when blushes pass To be so pure and weak. He falls into the dewy grass. To cool his fevered check; And hears a music strangely made, That you have never heard, A sprite in every rustling blade. That sings like any bird! Monckton MILJJES.

Meanwhile on that fresh, dewy, moonlight summer evening, along the narrow path leading through the wood behind the hut, Ishmael limped—the happiest little fellow, despite his wounds and bruises, that ever lived. He was so happy that he half suspected his delight to be all unreal, and feared to wake up presently and find it was but a dream, and see the little black-eyed girl, the ride in the carriage, and above all the new ‘lllustrated History of the United States,’ vanish into the land of shades !

In this dazed frame of mind he reached the hut and opened the door. The room was lighted only by the blazing logs of a wood fire, which the freshness of the late August evening on the hills made not quite unwelcome, f ■. The room was in no respect changed in the last twelve years. The well-cared-for though humble furniture was still in its old position. . ' ■ - Hannah, as of old, was seated at her loom, driving the shuttle back and forth with a deafening clatter. Hannah’s face was a little more sallow and wrinkled, and her hair a little .more freely streaked; with grey than of yore; that was all the change visible in her personal appearance. But long continued solitude had rendered her as taciturn and unobservant as if she had been born deaf and blind.

She had not seen Reuben Gray since that Sunday when Ishmael* was christened and Reuben insisted on bringing the child home; and when, in the bitterness of her woe and her shame, she had slammed the door in his face. Gray had left the neighbourhood,

and it was reported that he had been promoted to the management of a rich farm in the Forest of Prince George’s. 4 There is your supper on the hearth, child,’ fehe said, without ceasing her work, or turning her head, .as Ishmael entered. Hannah was a good aunt; but she was not his mother ; if she had been, she would at least have turned around to look at the boy, and then she would have seen he was hurt, and would have asked an explanation. As it was, she saw nothing. And Ishmael was very glad of it. He did not wish to be pitied or praised ; he wished to be left to himself and his own devices, for this evening at least, when he had such a distinguished guest as his grand new book to entertain !

Ishmael took up his bowl of mush and milk, sab down, and with a large spoon shovelled his food down his throat with more despatch than delicacy—just as he would have shovelled coal into a cellar ! The sharp cries of a hungry stomach must be appeased, he knew ; bub with as little loss of time as possible, particularly when there was a hungry brain waiting to set to work upon a rich feast already prepared for it!

So in three minutes he put away his bowl and spoon, drew his three-legged stool to the corner of the fireplace, where he could see to read, seated himself, opened his packet, and displayed his treasure. It was a large, thick, octavo volume, bound in stout leather, and filled with portraits and pictured battle scenes. And on the fly-leaf was written : • Presented to Ishmael Worth, as a reward of merit, from his friend, James Middleton.’ Ishmael read that with a new accession of pleasure. Then he turned the leaves to peep at the hidden jewels in this intellectual casket. Then he closed the book and laid it on his knees and shut his eyes and held his breath for joy. He had been enamoured of this beauty for months and months. He had fallen in love with it at first sight, when he had seen its pages open, with a portrait of George Washington on the right arid a picture of the Battle of Yorktown on the left, all displayed in the show window of Hamlin’s book shop. He had loved it and longed for it with a passionate ardour ever since. He had spent all his half-holidays in going to Baymoutb and standing before Hamlin’s window, and staring at the book, and asking the price of it, and wondering if he should ever be able to save money enough to buy it. Now, to be in love with an unattainable woman is bad enough, the dear knows ! Bub to be in love with an unattainable book Oh, my gracious! Loyer-like, he had thought of this book all day, and dreamt of it all night; but never hoped to possess it ! And now he really owned it! He had won it as a reward for courage, truth and honesty ! It was lying there on his knees. It was all his own ! His intense satisfaction can only be compared to that of a youthful bridegroom who has gdt his beloved all to himself at last!•'•’ It might have been said of the one, as ib is 'often said of the other—--4 It was the happiest day of his life !’ Oh, doubtless, in after years the future statesman enjoyed many a hard-won victory. 1 Swhet is the breath of fame ! Sweet the praise of nations '. But I question whether, in all the vicissitudes, successes, failures, trials, and triumphs of his future life, Ishmael YVorth ever tasted such keen joy as he did this night in the possession of this book !

He enjoyed it more than wealthy men enjoy their great libraries. To him, this was the book of books, because it was the history of his own country. There were thousands and thousands of young men, sons of gentlemen, in schools andcolleges, reading this glorious history of the young republic, as a task, with indifference or disgust, while this poor boy, in the hill-top hut, pored over its pages with all the enthusiasm of reverence and love ! And why ? what caused this difference ? Because they were of the commonplace, while he was one in a million. This was the history of the rise and progress of the United States; Ishmael YVorth was an ardent lover of his country, as well as of all that was great and good. He had the brain to comprehend and the heart to reverence the divine idea embodied in the Federal Union. He possessed these, not by inheritance, nor by education, but by the direct inspiration of Heaven, who, passing over the wealthy and the prosperous, ordained this poor outcast boy, this despised, illegit. mate son of a country weaver, to become a great Power among the People ! a great pillar of the State!

No one could guess this now. Not even the boy himself. He did not know that he was any richer in heart or brain than other boys of his age. No ; most probably, by analogy, he thought himself, in this respect as well as in all others, poorer than his neighbours. He covered his book carefully, and studied it perseveringly ; studied it not only while it was a novelty, but after lie had grown familiar with its incidents. I have dwelt so long upon this subject because the possession of this book at this time had a signal effect in forming Ishmael Worth’s character and directing the current of the boy’s whole future life. It was oiie of the first media of his inspiration. Its heroes, its warriors, and its statesmen were his idols, his models, and his exemplars. By studying them he became himself high-toned, chivalrous, and devoted. Through the whole autumn he worked hard all day, upheld with the prospect of returning home at night to—his poor hut and his silent aunt ?—oh, no, but to the grand stage upon which the Revolutionary struggle waE exhibited and to the company of its heroes —Washington, Putnam, Marion, Jefferson, Hancock and Henry! He saw no more for some time of his friends at Brudenell Hall. He knew that Mr Middleton had a first-class school at his house, and he envied the privileged young gentlemen who had the happiness to attend it; little knowing how wi-enviable a privilege the said young gentlemen considered that attendance and how small a portion of happiness they derived from it. The winter set in early and severely. Hannah took a violent cold and was confined to her bed with inflammatory rheumatism. For many weeks 3be was unable to do a stroke of work. During this time [ of trial Ishmael worked for both—rising very early in the morning to get the frugal breakfast and set. the house in order before going out to his daily occupation of ‘Jobbing’ with.the professor—and coming home late at night to get the' supper and split the wood and bring the water for the next day’s supply. Thus, as long as his work lasted, ho was the provider as well as the nurse of his poor aunt. But at last there came one of the heaviest falls of snow ever known iu that region. It lay upon the ground for many weeks, quite blocking up the roads, interrupting travel, and of course putting a stop to the professor’s jobbing and to Ishmaol’s income. Provisions were soon exhausted and there was no way of getting' more. Hannah and Ishmael suffered hunger. Ishmael bore this with great fortitude. Hannah also bore it patiently as long as the tea lasted. But when that woman’s consolation failed she broke down and complained bitterly. The Baymouth turnpike was about the only passable road in the neighbourhood. By it Ishmael walked on to the village, one bitter cold morning, to try to get credit for a quarter of a pound of tea. |

But Nutt would see him hanged first. Disappointed and sorrowful, Ishmael turned his steps from the town. He had come about a mile on his homeward road, when something glowing like a coal of fire 1 on the glistening whiteness of the snow caught his eye. It was a red morocco pocket-book lying in the middle of the road. There was not a human creature except Ishmael himself on the road or anywhere in sight. Neither had he passed anyone on his way from the Village. Therefore it was quite in vain that he looked up and down and all around for the owner of the pocket-book as he raised it from the ground. No possible claimant was to be seen. He opened it and examined its contents. It contained a little gold and silver, not quito ten dollars in all; but a fortune for Ishmael, .in his present needy condition. There was no name on the pocket-book and nob a scrap cf paper in it by which the owner might be discovered. There was nothing in it but the untraceable silver and gold. It seemed to have dropped from Heaven for Ishmael’p own benefit! This was his thought as he turned with the impulse to fly directly back to the village and invest a portion of the money in necessaries for Hannah. What was it that suddenly arrested his steps ? The recollection that the money was , not his own ! that to use it even for the best purpose in the world would be an act of dishonesty. He paused and reflected. The devil took that opportunity to tempt him—• whispering : ‘ You found the pocket book and you cannot find the owner; therefore it is your own. you know.’ ‘You know it isn’t,’ murmured Ishmael’s conscience.

‘ Well, even so, it is no harm to borrow a dollar or two to get your poor sick aunt a little tea and sugar. You could pay it back again before the pocket-book is claimed, even if it is ever claimed..’ mildly insinuated the devil.

‘lt would be borrowing without leave,’ replied conscience. ‘ But for your poor, sick, suffering aunt! think of her, and make her happy this evening with a consoling cup of tea ! Take only half a dollar for that good purpose. Nobody could blame you for that’ whimpered the devil, who was losing ground. ‘ I would like to make dear aunb Hannah happy to-night. But I am sure George Washington would not approve ol my taking what don’t belong to me for that or any other purpose. And neither would Patrick Henry, nor John Hancock. And so I won’t do it,’ said Ishmael, resolutely putting the pocket-book in his vest pocket and buttoning his coat tight over it, and starting at a brisk pace homeward. You see his heroes had come to his aid and saved him in the first temptation of his life.

Ah, you may be sure that in after days the rising politician met and resisted many a temptation to sell his vote, his party, or his soul, for a ‘consideration;’ but none more serious to the man than this one to the boy. When Ishmael had trudged another mile of his homeward road, it suddenly occurred to him that he might possibly meet or overtake the owner of the pocket-book, who would know his property in a moment if he should see it. And with this thought he took it from his pocket and carried it conspicuously in his hand until he reached home, without having met a human being. It was about twelve meridian when. he lifted the latch and entered. Hannah was in bed ; but she turned her hungry eyes anxiously on him as she eatrerly inquired ‘ Did you bring the tea, Ishmael ?’ ‘No, aunt Hannah Mr Nutt wouldn’t trust me,’ replied the. boy, sadly, sinking down in a chair ; for he was very weak from insufficient food, and the long walk had exhausted him. Hannah began to complain piteously. Do not blame her, reader. You would fret, too, if you ivere sick in bed, and longing for a cup of tea, without having the means of procuring it. To divert her thoughts, Ishmael went and showed the pocket-book, and told her the history of his finding it. Hannah seized it with the greedy grasp with which the starving catch at money. She opened it, and counted the gold and silver. ‘ Where did you say you found it, Ishmael ?’ ‘I told you a mile out of the village.’ ‘ Only that little way! Why didn’t you go back and buy my tea?’ she inquired, with an injured look. ‘ Oh, aunt! the money wasn’t mine, you knew !' said Ishmael. ‘ Well, I don’t say it was. But you might have borrowed a dollar from it, and the o jvner would never have minded, for I daresay he’d be willing to give two dollars as a reward for finding the pocket-book. You might have bought my tea if you had cared for me ! But nobody cares for me now ! No one ever did but Reuben—poor fellow !’

‘ Indeed, aunt Hannah, I do care for you a great deal! I love you dearly; and I did want to take some of the money and buy your tea. ’ * Why didn’t you do it, then ?’ ‘ Oh, Aunt Hannah, the Lord has commanded, “ Thou shalt not steal.’’ ’ ‘lt wouldn’t have been stealing ; it would have been borrowing.’

‘ But I know Patrick Henry and John Hancock wouldn’t' have borrowed what didn’t belong to them !’ " ‘ Plague take Patrick Hancock and John Henry, I say ! I believe they are turning your head ! What hare them dead and buried old people to do with folks that are alive and starving ?’ * Oh, aunt Hannah ! scold me as much as you please, but don’t speak so of the great men !’ said ilshmael, to whom all this was sheer blasphemy and nothing less.

* Great fiddlesticks’ ends ! No tea yesterday, and no tea for breakfast this morning, and no tea for supper to-night! And I laying helpless with the rheumatism, and feeling as faint as if I should sink and die; and my head aching ready to burst! And I would give anything in the world for a cup of tea, because I know it would do me so much good, and I can’t get it! And you have money in your pocket and won’t buy it for me ! No, not if I die for the want of it! You, that I; have been a mother to ! That’s the way you pay me, is it, for all my care?’ ‘Oh, aunt Hannah, dear, I do love you, and I would do anything in the world fer you; but, indeed, lam sure Patrick Henry— ’

‘ Hang Patrick Henry ! If you mention his name again I’ll box your ears !’ Ishmael dropped his eyes to the ground and sighed deeply. ‘ After all I have done for you, ever since you were left a helpless infant on my hands, for you to let me lie here and die, yes, actu'ally die for the want of a cup of tea, before you will Bpend one quarter of a dollar to ,get it for me! Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! 00-00:00 !’. ■ ...... ;;

And Hannah put up her hands to her face, and cried like a baby.

You see Hannah was honest ; but she was not heroic ; her nerves were very weak, and her spirits very low. Inflammatory

rheumatism is often more or less complicated with heart-disease. And the latter is a great demoralise! - of mind as well as body. And chat was Hannah’s case. We must make every excuse for tho weakness of the poor, over-tasked, all-enduring, long-suffer-ing woman, broken down at last. But not a thought of blaming her entered Ishmael’s mind. Full of love, he bent over her, saying: ‘ Oh, aunt Hannah, don’t.don’t cry ! You shall have your tea this very evening ; indeed you shall!' And he stooped and kissed her tenderly. Then he pub on his : cap and went and took his only treasure, his beloved “History,’ from it 3 place of honour on the top of the bureau ; and cold, hungry and tired as he was, he set oft’ again to walk the four long miles to the village, to try to sell his book for half price bo the trader. Reader ! I am nob fooling you with a fictitious character here. Do you love this boy? And will you nob forgive me if I have already lingered too long over the trials and triumphs of his friendless bub heroic boyhood ? He, who in his feeble childhood resists small temptations and makes small sacrifices, is very apt in his strong manhood to conquer great difficulties and achieve great successes. Ishmael, with his book under his arm, went as fast as his exhausted frame would permit him on the road towards Baymouth. Bub as he was obliged to walk slowly and pause to rest frequently, he made bub little progress, so that it was three o’clock in the afternoon before he reached Hamlin’s book shop. There was a customer present, and Ishmael had to wait until the man was served and had departed, before he could mention his own humble errand. This short interview Ishmael spent in taking the brown paper cover off his book, and looking fondly at the cherished volume. It was like taking a la9t leave of it. Do not blame this as a weakness. He was so poor, so very poor ; this book was his only treasure and his only joy in life. The tears arose to his eyes, but he kept them from falling. When the customer was gone, and the bookseller was at leisure, Ishmael approached and laid the volume on the counter, saying : ‘ Have you another copy of this work in the shop, Mr Hamlin ?’ ‘No; I wish I had half-a-dozen ; for I could sell them all ; bub I intend to order some from Baltimore to-day. ’ ‘ Then maybe you would buy this one back from me at half-price ? I have taken such care of it, that it is as good as new,you see. Look at it for yourself.’ ‘Yes, I see it looks perfectly fresh ; but here is some writing on the fly-leaf ; that would have to be torn out, you know ; so that the book could never be sold as a new one again; I should have to sell it as a second-hand one, at half-price ; that would be a dollar and a-half, so that you see / would only give you a dollar for it.’ ‘Sir?’ questioned Ishmael, in sad amazement.

‘ Yes ; because you know I must have my own little profit oti it.’ ‘ Oh, I see ; yes, to be sure,’ assented Ishmael, with a heavy sigh. But to part with his treasured volume and to get no more than that ! It was like Esau selling his birthright for a mess of pottage. However, the poor cannot argue with the prosperous. The bargain was soon struck. The book was sold and the boy received his dollar. And then the dealer, feeling a twinge of conscience, gave him a dime in addition. ‘ Thank you, sir; I will take this out in paper and wafers, if you please. I want some particularly,’ said Ishmael. Having received a half dozen sheets of paper and a small box of wafers, the lad asked the loan of pen and ink; and then, standing at the counter, he wrote a dozen circulars as follows: FOUND, A POCKET-BOOK. On the Baymouth Turnpike Road, on Friday morning, I picked up a pocket-book, which the owner can have by coining to me at the Hiil Hut and proving his property. Ishmael Worth. Having finished these, he thanked the bookseller and left the shop, saying to himself : * I won’t keep that about me much longer to be a constant temptation and cross.’ He first went and bought a quarter of a pound of tea, a pound of sugar, and a bag of meal, from Nutt’s general shop, for Hannah ; and leaving them there until he should have got through his work, he went around the village and watered up his twelve posters at various conspicuous points on fences, walls, pumps, trees, etc. Then he called for his provisions, and set out on his long walk home. (To he. Continued.)