Hannah cried heartily, but for the life of her, could not have told whether it was for joy or sorrow.  To her apprehension, to go to Washington and be Judge Merlin’s clerk seemed to be one of the greatest honors that any young man could attain; so she was perfectly delighted with that part of the affair.  But, on the other hand, Ishmael had been to her like the most affectionate and dearest of sons, and to part with him seemed more than she could bear; so she wept vehemently and clung to her boy.

Reuben sought to console her.

“Never mind, Hannah, woman, never mind.  It is the law of nature that the young bird must leave his nest and the young man his home.  But never you mind!  Washing-town-city aint out’n the world, and any time as you want to see your boy very bad, I’ll just put Dobbin to the wagon and cart you and the young uns up there for a day or two.  Law, Hannah, my dear, you never should shed a tear if I could help it.  ‘Cause I feel kind o’ guilty when you cry, Hannah, as if I ought to help it somehow!” said the good fellow.

“As if you could, Reuben!  But it is I myself who do wrong to cry for anything when I am blessed with the love of such a heart as yours, Reuben!  There, I will not cry any more.  Of course, Ishmael must go to the city and make his fortune, and I ought to be glad, and I am glad, only I am sich a fool.  Ishmael, my dear, this is Wednesday night, and you say you are going o’ Monday morning; so there aint no time to make you no new shirts and things before you go, but I’ll make a lot of ’em, my boy, and send ’em up to you,” said Hannah, wiping her eyes.

Ishmael opened his mouth to reply; but Reuben was before him with: 

“So do, Hannah, my dear; that will be one of the best ways of comforting yourself, making up things for the lad; and you shan’t want for money, for the fine linen nyther, Hannah, my dear!  And when you have got them all done, you and I can take them up to him when we go to see him!  So think of that, and you won’t be fretting after him.  And now, childun, it is bedtime!”

On Friday evening Ishmael, in breaking up his school for the Christmas holidays, also took a final leave of his pupils.  The young master had so endeared himself to his rough pupils that they grieved sincerely at the separation.  The girls wept, and even rude boys sobbed.  Our stupid little friend, Eddy, who could not learn grammar, had learned to love his kind young teacher, and at the prospect of parting with him and having the minister for a master roared aloud, saying: 

“Master Worth have allers been good to us, so he have; but the minister—­he’ll lick us, ever so much!”

Ishmael distributed such parting gifts as his slender purse would afford, and so dismissed his pupils.

On Sunday evening he took leave of his friends, the Middletons, who promised to join him in Washington in the course of a week.

And on Monday morning he took leave of Hannah and Reuben, and walked to Baymouth to meet the Washington steamboat.