“Yes, sir; all on ’em, and a deal fatter and rosier and healthier nor they was when I fust took ’em down.  Perty little darlings!  Didn’t they enjoy being in the country, neither, though it was the depth of winter time?  Law, Ish—­sir, I mean—­it’s a mortal sin ag’in natur’ to keep chil’en in town if it can be helped!  But their ma, poor thing, couldn’t help it, I know.  Law, Ish—­sir, I mean—­if you had seen her that same Christmas Day, as she ran in with her chil’en to her aunt as is hostess at the Farmer’s.  If ever you see a poor little white bantam trying to cover her chicks when the hawk was hovering nigh by, you may have some idea of the way she looked when she was trying to hide her chil’un and didn’t know where; ’cause she daren’t keep ’em at home and daren’t hide ’em at her aunt’s, for her home would be the first place inwaded and her aunt’s the second.  They was all so flustered, they took no more notice o’ me standin’ in the parlor ’n if I had been a pillar-post,’till feeling of pityful towards the poor things, I made so bold to go forward and offer to take ’em home ‘long o’ me, and which was accepted with thanks and tears as soon as the landlady recommended me as an old acquaintance and well-beknown to herself.  So it was settled.  That night when you come to spend the evening with us, Ish—­sir, I mean—­I really did feel guilty in having of a secret as I wouldn’t tell you; but you see, sir, I was bound up to secrecy, and besides I thought as you was stopping in Washington City, if you knowed anythink about it you might be speened afore the court and be obliged to tell all, you know.”

“You did quite right, Uncle Reuben,” said Ishmael affectionately.

“You call me Uncle Reuben, sir?”

“Why not, Uncle Reuben? and why do you call me sir?”

“Well—­sir, because you are a gentleman now—­not but what you allers was a gentleman by natur’; but now you are one by profession.  They say you have come to be a lawyer in the court, sir, and can stand up and plead before the judges theirselves.”

“I have been admitted to the bar, Uncle Reuben.”

“Yes, that’s what they call it; see there now, you know, I’m only a poor ignorant man, and you have no call to own the like o’ me for uncle, ’cause, come to the rights of it, I aint your uncle at all, sir, though your friend and well-wisher allers; and to claim the likes o’ me as an uncle might do you a mischief with them as thinks riches and family and outside show and book-larning is everythink.  So Ish—­sir, I mean, I won’t take no offense, nor likewise feel hurted, if you leaves oft calling of me uncle and calls me plain ‘Gray,’ like Judge Merlin does.”

“Uncle Reuben,” said Ishmael, with feeling, “I am very anxious to advance myself in the world, very ambitious of distinction; but if I thought worldly success would or could estrange me from the friends of my boyhood, I would cease to wish for it.  If I must cease to be true, in order to be great, I prefer to remain in obscurity.  Give me your hand, Uncle Reuben, and call me Ishmael, and know me for your boy.”