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 Aunt Hannah happy to-night. But I am sure
George Washington would not approve of 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 pocketbook in his vest pocket and buttoning his coat tight over it,
and starting at 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 was 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
pocketbook, 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 eagerly 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 were 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 pocketbook, 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 know!" said Iahmael.

"Well, I don't say it was. But you might have borrowed a dollar from it,
and the owner would have never minded, for I dare say he'd be willing to
give two dollars as a reward for finding the pocketbook. You might h