to Jem Morris, and his professional duties kept him very busy.

Baymouth had progressed in all these years, and now actually boasted a
fine new shop, with this sign over the door:

BOOK, STATIONERY, AND FANCY BAZAAR.

And this to Ishmael seemed a very fairy palace. It attracted him with an
irresistible glamour.

It happened one burning Saturday afternoon in August that the boy,
having a half-holiday, resolved to make the most of it and enjoy himself
by walking to Baymouth and standing before that shop to gaze at his
leisure upon the marvels of literature displayed in its windows.

The unshaded village street was hot and dusty, and the unclouded August
sun was blazing down upon it; but Ishmael did not mind that, as he stood
devouring with his eyes the unattainable books.

While he was thus occupied, a small, open, one-horse carriage drove up
and stopped before the shop door. The gentleman who had driven it
alighted and handed out a lady and a little girl in deep mourning. The
lady and the little girl passed immediately into the shop. And oh! how
Ishmael envied them! They were perhaps going to buy some of those
beautiful books!

The gentleman paused with the reins in his hands, and looked up and down
the bare street, as if in search of some person. At last, in withdrawing
his eyes, they fell upon Ishmael, and he called him.

The boy hastened to his side.

"My lad, do you think you can hold my horse?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

"Well, and can you lead him out of the road to that stream there under
the trees, and let him drink and rest?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, go on, then, and mind and watch the carriage well, while we
are in the shop; because, you see, there are tempting parcels in it."

"Yes, sir," again said the boy.

The gentleman gave him the reins and followed the ladies into the shop.
And Ishmael led the horse off to the grove stream, a place much
frequented by visitors at Baymouth to rest and water their horses.

The thirsty horse had drank his fill, and the kind boy was engaged in
rubbing him down with cool, fresh dock leaves, when a voice near the
carriage attracted Ishmael's attention.

"Oh, cricky, Ben! if here isn't old Middy's pony-chaise standing all
alone, and full of good nuggs he's been a buying for that tea-party!
Come, let's have our share beforehand."

Ishmael who was partly concealed by his stooping position behind the
horse, now raised his head, and saw two young gentlemen of about twe