After supper they separated for the night.

Ishmael went up to his room and went to bed, so very tired that his head was no sooner laid upon his pillow than his senses were sunk in sleep.

He was awakened by the caroling of a thousand birds.  He started up, a little confused at first by finding himself in a strange room; but as memory quickly returned he sprang from his bed and went and drew up his blind and looked out from his window.

It was early morning; the sun was just rising and flooding the whole landscape with light.  A fine, inspiring scene lay before him—­orchards of apple, peach, and cherry trees in full blossom; meadows of white and red clover; fields of wheat and rye, in their pale green hue of early growth; all spreading downwards towards the banks of the mighty Potomac that here in its majestic breadth seemed a channel of the sea; while far away across the waters, under the distant horizon, a faint blue line marked the southern shore.

Sailing up and down the mighty river were ships of all nations, craft of every description, from the three-decker East India merchantman, going or returning from her distant voyage, to the little schooner-rigged fishermen trading up and down the coast.  These were the sights.  The songs of birds, the low of cattle, the hum of bees, and the murmur of the water as it washed the sands—­these were the sounds.  All the joyous life of land, water, and sky seemed combined at this spot and visible from this window.

“This is a pleasant place to live in; thank the Lord for it!” said Ishmael fervently, as he stood gazing from the window.  Not long, however, did the youth indulge his love of nature; he turned away, washed and dressed himself quickly and went downstairs to see if he could be useful.

The windows were open in the sitting room, which was filled with the refreshing fragrance of the lilacs.  The breakfast table was set; and Phillis, the colored girl, was bringing in the coffee.  Almost at the same moment Hannah entered from the kitchen and Reuben from the garden.

“Good-morning, Ishmael!” said Reuben gayly.  “How do you like Woodside?  Woodside is the name of our little home, same as Tanglewood is the name of the judge’s house, a half a mile back in the forest, you know.  How do you like it by daylight?”

“Oh, very much, indeed, uncle.  Don’t you like it, Aunt Hannah?  Isn’t it pleasant?” exclaimed the youth, appealing to Mrs. Gray.

“Very pleasant, indeed, Ishmael!” she said.  “Ah, Reuben,” she continued, turning to her husband, “you never let me guess what a delightful home you were bringing me to!  I had no idea but that it was just like the cottages of other overseers that I have known—­a little house of two or three small rooms.”