fessor in the neighborhood," said the gentleman, smiling.

"I mean Professor Jim Morris, sir," replied Ishmael, in perfect good
faith.

"Oh! yes, exactly; I have heard of that ingenious and useful individual,
who seems to have served his time at all trades, and taken degrees in
all arts and sciences; but I did not know he was called a professor. So
you are a student in his college!" smiled Mr. Middleton.

"I help him, sir, and he pays me," answered the boy.

"And what is your name, my good little fellow?"

"Ishmael Worth, sir."

"Oh, yes, exactly; you are the son of the little weaver up on Hut Hill,
just across the valley from Brudenell Heights?"

"I am her nephew, sir."

"Are your parents living?"

"No, sir; I have been an orphan from my birth."

"Poor boy! And you are depending on your aunt for a home, and on your
own labor for a support?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Ishmael, as you very rightly take pay from my brother professor,
I do not know why you should refuse it from me."

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 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 wagoner, I often
hold horses for them, sir! And, bless you, they couldn't pay me a
penny."

"But I can, my boy! 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 defense of my goods, and got yourself badly bruised by
the thieves, and unjustly accused by me. Certainly, it is a poor
offering I make in return for your services and 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."

"Indeed, indeed, sir, I cannot. Please don't keep on asking me,"
persisted Ishmael, drawing back with a look of distress and almost of
reproach 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 "Illustrated History of the United
States" in that book-shop, that really and truly Ishmael would have b