A youth of about fifteen years of age arose and approached.

“Ishmael, this is my eldest son, Walter.  I hope you two may be good friends.  Walter, take Ishmael to a seat beside you; and when the recreation hour comes, make him well acquainted with your companions.  Mind, Walter, I commit him to your charge.”

Walter Middleton smiled, shook hands with Ishmael, and led him away to share his own double desk.

Mr. Middleton then called the school to order and opened the exercises with the reading of the Scripture and prayer.

This over, he came to Ishmael and laid an elementary geography before him, with the first lesson marked out on it, saying: 

“There, my lad; commit this to memory as soon as you can, and then take your book up for recitation to Mr. Green.  He will hear you singly for some time until you overtake the first class, which I am sure you will do very soon; it will depend upon yourself how soon.”

And with these kind words Mr. Middleton left the room.

How happy was Ishmael!  The schoolroom seemed an elysium!  It is true that this was no ordinary schoolroom; but one of the pleasantest places of the kind to be imagined; and very different from the small, dark, poor hut.  Ishmael was delighted with its snow-white walls, its polished oak floor, its clear open windows with their outlook upon the blue sky and the green trees and variegated shrubs.  He was pleased with his shining mahogany desk, with neat little compartments for slate, books, pen, pencils, ink, etc.  He was in love with his new book with its gayly colored maps and pictures and the wonders revealed to him in its lessons.  He soon left off reveling in the sights and sounds of the cheerful schoolroom to devote himself to his book.  To him study was not a task, it was an all-absorbing rapture.  His thirsty intellect drank up the knowledge in that book as eagerly as ever parched lips quaffed cold water.  He soon mastered the first easy lesson, and would have gone up immediately for recitation, only that Mr. Green was engaged with a class.  But Ishmael could not stop; he went on to the second lesson and then to the third, and had committed the three to memory before Mr. Green was disengaged.  Then he went up to recite.  At the end of the first lesson Mr. Green praised his accuracy and began to mark the second.

“If you please, sir, I have got that into my head, and also the third one,” said Ishmael, interrupting him.

“What! do you mean to say that you have committed three of these lessons to memory?” inquired the surprised tutor.

“Yes, sir, while I was waiting for you to be at leisure.”

“Extraordinary!  Well, I will see if you can recite them,” said Mr. Green, opening the book.

Ishmael was perfect in his recitation.

All schoolmasters delight in quick and intelligent pupils; but Mr. Green especially did so; for he had a true vocation for his profession.  He smiled radiantly upon Ishmael as he asked: