But he was wrong in his judgment of Ishmael. If the youth's style of writing was gracious, courteous, delicate, it was because his inmost nature was pure, refined, and benignant. If his letters denying favors soothed rather than offended the applicant, and of those granting favors flattered rather than humiliated the petitioner, it was because of that angelic attribute of Ishmael's soul that made it so painful to him to give pain, so delightful to impart delight. There was no thought of diplomatic dealing in all Ishmael's truthful soul. The judge was excessively pleased with his young assistant. Judge Merlin was an excellent lawyer, but no orator, and never had been, nor could be one. He had not himself the gift of eloquence either in speaking or writing; and, therefore, perhaps he was the more astonished and pleased to find it in the possession of his letter-writer. He was pleased to have his correspondence well written, for it reflected credit upon himself. Under the influence of his surprise and pleasure he took up his hand full of letters and went directly to Ishmael's room. He found the youth seated in his arm-chair engaged in reading. "What have you there?" inquired Judge Merlin. Ishmael smiled and turned the title-page to his questioner. "Humph! 'Coke upon Lyttleton.' Lay it down, Ishmael, and attend to me," said the judge, drawing a chair and seating himself beside the youth. Ishmael immediately closed the book and gave the most respectful attention. "I am very much pleased with the manner in which you have accomplished your task, Ishmael. You have done your work remarkably well! So well that I should like to give you longer employment," he said. Ishmael's heart leaped in his bosom. "Thank you, sir; I am very glad you are satisfied with me," he replied. "Let us see now, this is the fifteenth of October; I shall remain here until the first of December, when we go to town; a matter of six weeks; and I shall be glad, Ishmael, during the interval of my stay here, to retain you as my assistant. What say you?" "Indeed, sir, I shall feel honored and happy in serving you." "I will give you what I consider a fair compensation for so young a beginner. By the way, how old are you?" "I shall be nineteen in December." "Very well; I will give you twenty dollars a month and your board." "Judge Merlin," said Ishmael, as his pale face flushed crimson, "I shall feel honored and happy in serving you; but from you I cannot consent to receive any compensation." The judge stared at the speaker with astonishment that took all power of reply away; but Ishmael continued: "Consider, sir, the heavy obligations under which I already rest towards you, and permit me to do what I can to lighten the load." "What do you mean? What the deuce are you talking about?" at last asked the judge.