“Then, sir, I suppressed the fair copy, and sent up the rough draft, because I thought there was one who, for his great diligence, had an equal or better right to the watch than I had, and who would be more pained by losing it than I should, and I did not wish to enter into competition with him; for indeed, sir, if I had won the watch from my friend I should have been more pained by his defeat than pleased at my own victory,” said Ishmael, his fine face clearing up under the consciousness of probity. (But, reader, mark you this—­it was the amiable trait inherited from his father—­the pain in giving pain; the pleasure in giving pleasure.  But we know that this propensity which had proved so fatal to the father was guided by conscience to all good ends in the son.)

While Ishmael gave this little explanation, the examiners listened, whispered, and nodded to each other with looks of approval.

And Walter came to his friend’s side, and affectionately took and pressed his hand, saying: 

“I knew it, as soon as I had heard both theses read, and saw that they seemed to make mistakes only in yours.  It was very generous in you, Ishmael; but you seemed to leave out of the account the fact that I ought not to have profited by such generosity; and also that if I had lost the prize, and you had won it, my mortification would have been alleviated by the thought that you, the best pupil in the school, and my own chosen friend, had won it.”

“Order!” said Mr. Middleton, interrupting this whispered conversation.  “Ishmael,” he continued, addressing the youth, “your act was a generous one, certainly; whether it was a righteous one is doubtful.  There is an old proverb which places ‘justice before generosity.’  I do not know that it does not go so far as even to inculcate justice to ourselves before generosity to our fellows.  You should have been just to yourself before being generous to your friend.  It only remains for us now to rectify this wrong.”  Then turning to Professor Adams, he said: 

“Sir, may I trouble you to take this fair copy and read it aloud?”

Professor Adams bowed in assent as he received the paper.  Ishmael and Walter returned to their seats to await the proceedings.

Professor Adams arose in his place, and in a few words explained how it happened that in the case of the first thesis read to them, he had given the rough draft instead of the fair copy, which in justice to the young writer he should now proceed to read.

Now, although not half a dozen persons in that room could have perceived any difference in the two readings of a thesis written in a language of which even the alphabet was unknown known to them, yet every individual among them could keenly appreciate the magnanimity of Ishmael, who would have sacrificed his scholastic fame for his friend’s benefit, and the quickness and integrity of Walter in discovering the generous ruse and refusing the sacrifice.  They put their