"But here is 'Robinson Crusoe,' and here is the 'Arabian Nights'; why
not choose one of them?"
"Oh, no, sir--don't! They are about people that never lived, and things
that aren't true; and though they are very interesting, I know, there is
no solid satisfaction in them like there is in this--"
"Well, now 'this.' What is the great attraction of this to a boy? Why,
it's nothing but dry history," said Mr. Middleton, with an amused smile,
while he tried to "pump" the poor lad.
"Oh, sir, but there's so much in it! There's Captain John Smith, and Sir
Walter Raleigh, and Jamestown, and Plymouth, and the Pilgrim Fathers,
and John Hancock, and Patrick Henry, and George Washington, and the
Declaration of Independence, and Bunker's Hill, and Yorktown! Oh!" cried
Ishmael with an ardent burst of enthusiasm.
"You seem to know already a deal more of the history of our country than
some of my first-class young gentlemen have taken the trouble to learn,"
said Mr. Middleton, in surprise.
"Oh, no, I don't, sir. I know no more than what I have read in a little
thin book, no bigger than your hand, sir, that was lent to me by the
professor; but I know by that how much good there must be in this, sir."
"Ah! a taste of the dish has made you long for a feast."
"Sir?"
"Nothing, my boy, but that I shall follow your advice in the selection
of a book," said the gentleman, as he entered the shop. The lady and the
little girl remained in the carriage, and Ishmael stood feasting his
hungry eyes upon the books in the window.
Presently the volume he admired so much disappeared.
"There! I shall never see it any more!" said Ishmael, with a sigh; "but
I'm glad some boy is going to get it! Oh, won't he be happy to-night,
though! Wish it was I! No, I don't neither; it's a sin to covet!"
And a few minutes after the gentleman emerged from the shop with an
oblong packet in his hand.
"It was the last copy he had left, my boy, and I have secured it! Now do
you really think my young friend will like it?" asked Mr. Middleton.
"Oh, sir, won't he though, neither!" exclaimed Ishmael, in sincere
hearty sympathy with the prospective happiness of another.
"Well, then, my little friend must take it," said Mr. Middleton,
offering the packet to Ishmael.
"Sir!" exclaimed the latter.
"It is for you, my boy."
"Oh, sir, I couldn't take it, indeed! It is only another way of paying
me for a common civility," said Ishmael, shrinking from the gift, yet
longing for the book.
"It is not; it is a testimonial of my regard for you, my boy! Receive it
as such."