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 put on his cap and went and took his only treasure, his beloved
"History," from its place of honor on the top of the bureau; and cold,
hungry, and tired as he was, he set off again to walk the four long
miles to the village, to try to sell his book for half price to the
trader.

Reader! I am not fooling you with a fictitious character here. Do you
not love this boy? And will you not forgive me if I have already
lingered too long over the trials and triumphs of his friendless but
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. But as he was
obliged to walk slowly and pause to rest frequently, he made but 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 last 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; but 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 I would only give you a dollar for it."

"Sir