forth.  And if you conquer them, you may eventually rise above your present humble sphere, and perhaps become a parish clerk or a constable—­who knows?  Make good use of your opportunities, my lad!  Pursue the path of learning, and there is no knowing where it may carry you.  ’Big streams from little fountains flow.  Great oaks from little acorns grow;’ and so forth.  Good-by! and God bless you, my lad,” said the commodore, rising to take his leave.

Ishmael bowed very low, and attempted to thank his friend, but tears arose to his eyes, and swelling emotion choked his voice; and before he could speak, the commodore walked up to Mr. Middleton, and said: 

“I hope your favor to this lad will not seriously affect your school; but we will talk further of the matter on some future occasion.  I have an engagement this morning.  Good-by!  Oh, by the way—­I had nearly forgotten:  Mervin, and Turner, and the other old boys are coming down to my place for an oyster roast on Thursday night.  I won’t ask you if you will come.  I say to you that you must do so; and I will not stop to hear any denial.  Good-by!” and the commodore shook Mr. Middleton’s hand and departed.

Ishmael stood the very picture of perplexity, until Mr. Middleton addressed him.

“Come here, my brave little lad.  You are to do as the commodore has directed you, and present yourself here on Monday next.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, I understand very well; but—­”

“But—­what, my lad?  Wouldn’t you like to come?”

“Oh, yes, sir! more than anything in the world.  I would like it, but—­”

“What, my boy?”

“It would be taking something for nothing; and I do not like to do that, sir.”

“You are mistaken, Ishmael.  It would be taking what you have a right to take.  It would be taking what you have earned a hundred-fold.  You risked your life to save Commodore Burghe’s two sons, and you did save them.”

“Sir, that was only my duty.”

“Then it is equally the commodore’s duty to do all that he can for you.  And it is also your duty to accept his offers.”

“Do you look at it in that light, sir?”

“Certainly I do.”

“And—­do you think John Hancock and Patrick Henry would have looked at it in that light?”

Mr. Middleton laughed.  No one could have helped laughing at the solemn, little, pale visage of Ishmael, as he gravely put this question.

“Why, assuredly, my boy.  Every hero and martyr in sacred or profane history would view the matter as the commodore and myself do.”

“Oh, then, sir, I am so glad! and indeed, indeed, I will do my very best to profit by my opportunities, and to show my thankfulness to the commodore and you,” said Ishmael fervently.

“Quite right.  I am sure you will.  And now, my boy, you may retire,” said Mr. Middleton, kindly giving Ishmael his hand.

Our lad bowed deeply and turned towards the professor, who, with a sweeping obeisance to all the literary shelves, left the room.