"And this boy would soon be an honor to it! In a word, commodore, I would offer to take him freely myself, but that I know the independent spirit of the young fellow could not rest under such an obligation. You, however, are his debtor to a larger amount than you can ever repay. From you, therefore, even he cannot refuse to accept an education." "But your patrons, my dear sir, may object to the association for their sons," said the commodore, in a low voice. "Do you object?" "Not I indeed! I like the little fellow too well." "Very well, then, if anyone else objects to their sons keeping company with Ishmael Worth, they shall be at liberty to do so." "Humph! but suppose they remove their sons from the school? what then, eh?" demanded the commodore. "They shall be free from any reproach from me. The liberty I claim for myself I also allow others. I interfere with no man's freedom of action, and suffer no man to interfere with mine," returned Middleton. "Quite right! Then it is settled the boy attends the school. Where are you, you young fire-bravo! you young thunderbolt of war! Come forward, and let us have a word with you!" shouted the commodore. Ishmael, who had again retreated behind the shelter of the professor's stout form, now came forward, cap in hand, and stood blushing before the old sailor. "Well, you are to be 'cursed with a granted prayer,' you young Don Quixote. You are to come here to school, and I am to foot the bills. You are to come next Monday, which being the first of April and all-fool's-day, I consider an appropriate time for beginning. You are to tilt with certain giants, called Grammar, Geography, and History. And if you succeed with them, you are to combat certain dragons and griffins, named Virgil, Euclid, and so forth. And if you conquer them, you may eventually rise above your present humble sphere, and perhaps become a parish clerk or a constable--who knows? Make good use of your opportunities, my lad! Pursue the path of learning, and there is no knowing where it may carry you. 'Big streams from little fountains flow. Great oaks from little acorns grow;' and so forth. Good-by! and God bless you, my lad," said the commodore, rising to take his leave. Ishmael bowed very low, and attempted to thank his friend, but tears arose to his eyes, and swelling emotion choked his voice; and before he could speak, the commodore walked up to Mr. Middleton, and said: "I hope your favor to this lad will not seriously affect your school; but we will talk further of the matter on some future occasion. I have an engagement this morning. Good-by! Oh, by the way--I had nearly forgotten: Mervin, and Turner, and the other old boys are coming down to my place for an oyster roast on Thursday night. I won't ask you if you will come. I say to you that you must do so; and I will not stop to hear any denial. Good-by!" and the commodore shook Mr. Middleton's hand and departed.