ISHMAEL'S STRUGGLES
Yet must my brow be paler! I have vowed
To clip it with the crown that shall not fade
When it is faded. Not in vain ye cry,
Oh, glorious voices, that survive the tongue
From whence was drawn your separate sovereignty,
For I would stand beside you!
--_E.B. Browning_.
Ishmael continued his work, yet resumed his studies. He managed to do
both in this way--all the forenoon he delved in the garden; all the
afternoon he went over the chaotic account-books of Reuben Gray, to
bring them into order; and all the evening he studied in his own room.
He kept up his Greek and Latin. And he read law.
No time to dream of Claudia now.
One of the wisest of our modern philosophers says that we are sure to
meet with the right book at the right time. Now whether it were chance,
fate, or Providence that filled the scanty shelves of the old escritoire
with a few law books, is not known; but it is certain that their
presence there decided the career of Ishmael Worth.
As a young babe, whose sole object in life is to feed, pops everything
it can get hold of into its mouth, so this youthful aspirant, whose
master-passion was the love of learning, read everything he could lay
his hands on. Prompted by that intellectual curiosity which ever
stimulated him to examine every subject that fell under his notice,
Ishmael looked into the law books. They were mere text-books, probably
the discarded property of some young student of the Mervin family, who
had never got beyond the rudiments of the profession; but had abandoned
it as a "dry study."
Ishmael did not find it so, however. The same ardent soul, strong mind,
and bright spirit that had found "dry history" an inspiring heroic poem,
"dry grammar" a beautiful analysis of language, now found "dry law" the
intensely interesting science of human justice. Ishmael read diligently,
for the love of his subject!--at first it was only for the love of his
subject, but after a few weeks of study he began to read with a fixed
purpose--to become a lawyer. Of course Ishmael Worth was no longer
unconscious of his own great intellectual power; he had measured himself
with the best educated youth of the highest rank, and he had found
himself in mental strength their master. So when he resolved to become a
lawyer, he felt a just confidence that he should make a very able one.
Of course, with his clear perceptions and profound reflections he saw
all the great difficulties in his way; but they did not dismay him. His
will was as strong as his intellect, and he knew that, combined, they
would work wonders, almost miracles.
Indeed, without strength of will, intellect is of very little effect;
for if intellect is the eye of the soul, will is the hand; intellect is
wisdom, but will is power; intellect may be the monarch, but will is the
executive minister. How often we see men of the finest intellect fail in
life through weakness of will! How often also we see men of very
moderate intellect succeed through strength of will!
In Ishmael Worth intellect and will were equally strong. And when in
that poor chamber he set himself down to study law, upon his own
account, with the resolution to master the profession and to distinguish
himself in it, he did so with the full consciousness of the magnitude of
the object and of his own power to attain it. Day after day he worked
hard, night after night he studied diligently.
Ishmael did not think this a hardship; he did not murmur over his
poverty, privations, and toil; no, for his own bright and beautiful
spirit turned everything to light and loveliness. He did not, indeed, in
the pride of the Pharisee, thank God that he was not as other men; but
he did feel too deeply grateful for the intellectual power bestowed upon
him, to murmur at the circumstances that made it so difficult to
cultivate that glorious gift.
One afternoon, while they were all at tea, Reuben Gray said:
"Now, Ishmael, my lad, Hannah and me are going over to spend the evening
at Brown's, who is overseer at Rushy Shore; and you might's well go with
us; there's a nice lot o' gals there. What do you say?"
"Thank you, Uncle Reuben, but I wish to read this evening," said the
youth.
"Now, Ishmael, what for should you slave yourself to death?"
"I don't, uncle. I work hard, it is true; but then, you know, youth is
the time for work, and besides I like it," said the young fellow
cheerfully.
"Well, but after hoeing and weeding and raking and planting in the
garden all the morning, and bothering your brains over them distracting
'count books all the afternoon, what's the good of your going and poring
over them stupid books all the evening?"
"You will see the good of it some of these days, Uncle Reuben," laughed
Ishmael.
"You will wear yourself out before that day comes, my boy, if you are
not careful," answered Reuben.
"I always said the fetched books would be his ruin, and now I know it,"
put in Hannah.
Ishmael laughed good-humoredly; but Reuben sighed.
"Ishmael, my lad," he said, "if you must read, do, pray, read in the
forenoon, instead of working in the garden."
"But what will become of the garden?" inquired Ishmael, with gravity.
"Oh, I can put one of the nigger boys into it."
"And have to pay for his time and not have the work half done at last."
"Well, I had rather it be so, than you should slave yourself to death."
"Oh, but I do not slave myself to death! I like to work in the garden,
and I am never happier than when I am engaged there; the garden is
beautiful, and the care of it is a great pleasure as well as a great
benefit to me; it gives me all the outdoor exercise and recreation that
I require to enable me to sit at my writing or reading all the rest of
the day."
"Ah, Ishmael, my lad, who would think work was recreation except you?
But it is your goodness of heart that turns every duty into a delight,"
said Reuben Gray; and he was not very far from the truth.
"It is his obstinacy as keeps him everlasting a-working himself to
death! Reuben Gray, Ishmael Worth is one of the obstinatest boys that
ever you set your eyes on! He has been obstinate ever since he was a
baby," said Hannah angrily. And her mind reverted to that old time when
the infant Ishmael would live in defiance of everybody.
"I do believe as Ishmael would be as firm as a rock in a good cause; but
I don't believe that he could be obstinate in a bad one," said Reuben
decidedly.
"Yes, he could! else why does he persist in staying home this evening
when we want him to go with us?" complained Hannah.
Now, strength of will is not necessarily self-will. Firmness of purpose
is not always implacability. The strong need not be violent in order to
prove their strength. And Ishmael, firmly resolved as he was to devote
every hour of his leisure to study, knew very well when to make an
exception to his rule, and sacrifice his inclinations to his duty. So he
answered:
"Aunt Hannah, if you really desire me to go with you, I will do so of
course."
"I want you to go because I think you stick too close to your books, you
stubborn fellow; and because I know you haven't been out anywhere for
the last two months; and because I believe it would do you good to go,"
said Mrs. Gray.
"All right, Aunt Hannah. I will run upstairs and dress," laughed
Ishmael, leaving the tea-table.
"And be sure you put on your gold watch and chain," called out Hannah.
Hannah also arose and went to her room to change her plain brown calico
gown for a fine black silk dress and mantle that had been Reuben Gray's
nuptial present to her, and a straw bonnet trimmed with blue.
In a few minutes Ishmael, neatly attired, joined her in the parlor.
"Have you put on your watch, Ishmael?"
"Yes, Aunt Hannah; but I'm wearing it on a guard. I don't like to wear
the chain; it is too showy for my circumstances. You wear it, Aunt
Hannah; and always wear it when you go out; it looks beautiful over
your black silk dress," said Ishmael, as he put the chain around Mrs.
Gray's neck and contemplated the effect.
"What a good boy you are!" said Hannah; but she would not have been a
woman if she had not been pleased with the decoration.
Reuben Gray came in, arrayed in his Sunday suit, and smiled to see how
splendid Hannah was, and then drawing his wife's arm proudly within his
own, and calling Ishmael to accompany them, set off to walk a mile
farther up the river and spend a festive evening with his brother
overseer. They had a pleasant afternoon stroll along the pebbly beach of
the broad waters. They sauntered at their leisure, watching the ships
sail up or down the river; looking at the sea-fowl dart up from the
reeds and float far away; glancing at the little fish leaping up and
disappearing in the waves; and pausing once in a while to pick up a
pretty shell or stone; and so at last they reached the cottage of the
overseer Brown, which stood just upon the point of a little promontory
that jutted out into the river.
They spent a social evening with the overseer and his wife and their
half a dozen buxom boys and girls. And about ten o'clock they walked
home by starlight.
Twice a week Reuben Gray went up the river to a little waterside hamlet
called Shelton to meet the mail. Reuben's only correspondent was his
master, who wrote occasionally to make inquiries or to give orders. The
day after his evening out was the regular day for Reuben to go to the
post office.
So immediately after breakfast Reuben mounted the white cob which he
usually rode and set out for Shelton.
He was gone about two hours, and returned with a most perplexed
countenance. Now "the master's" correspondence had always been a great
bother to Reuben. It took him a long time to spell out the letters and a
longer time to indite the answers. So the arrival of a letter was always
sure to unsettle him for a day or two. Still, that fact did not account
for the great disturbance of mind in which he reached home and entered
the family sitting-room.
"What's the matter, Reuben? Any bad news?" anxiously inquired Hannah.
"N-n-o, not exactly bad news; but a very bad bother," said Gray, sitting
down in the big arm-chair and wiping the perspiration from his heated
face.
"What is it, Reuben?" pursued Hannah.
"Where's Ishmael?" inquired Gray, without attempting to answer her
question.
"Working in the garden, of course. But why can't you tell me what's the
matter?"
"Botheration is the matter, Hannah, my dear. Just go call Ishmael to
me."
Hannah left the house to comply with his request, and Reuben sat and
wiped his face and pondered over his perplexities. Reuben had lately
given to rely very much upon Ishmael's judgment, and to appeal to him in
all his difficulties. So he looked up in confidence as the youth entered
with Hannah.
"What is it, Uncle Reuben?" inquired the boy cheerfully.
"The biggest botheration as ever was, Ishmael, my lad!" answered Gray.
"Well, take a mug of cool cider to refresh yourself, and then tell me
all about it," said Ishmael.
Hannah ran and brought the invigorating drink, and after quaffing it
Gray drew a long breath and said:
"Why, I've got the botherationest letter from the judge as ever was. He
says how he has sent down a lot of books, as will be landed at our
landing by the schooner 'Canvas Back,' Capt'n Miller; and wants me to
take the cart and go and receive them, and carry them up to the house,
and ask the housekeeper for the keys of the liber-airy and put them in
there," said Reuben, pausing for breath.
"Why, that is not much bother, Uncle Reuben. Let me go and get the books
for you," smiled Ishmael.
"Law, it aint that; for I don't s'pose it's much more trouble to cart
books than it is to cart bricks. You didn't hear me out: After I have
got the botheration things into the liber-airy, he wants me to unpack
them, and also take down the books as is there already, and put the
whole lot on 'em in the middle of the floor, and then pick 'em out and
'range 'em all in separate lots, like one would sort vegetables for
market, and put each sort all together on a different shelf, and then
write all their names in a book, all regular and in exact order! There,
now, that's the work as the judge has cut out for me, as well as I can
make out his meaning from his hard words and crabbed hand; and I no more
fit to do it nor I am to write a sarmon or to build a ship; and if that
aint enough, to bother a man's brains I don't know what is, that's
all."
"But it is no part of your duty as overseer to act as his librarian,"
said Ishmael.
"I know it aint; but, you see, the judge he pays me liberal, and he
gives me a fust-rate house and garden, and the liberty of his own
orchards and vineyards, and a great many other privileges besides, and
he expects me to 'commodate him in turn by doing of little things as
isn't exactly in the line of my duty," answered Gray.
"But," demurred Ishmael, "he ought to have known that you were not
precisely fitted for this new task he has set you."
"Well, my lad, he didn't; 'cause, you see, the gals as I edicated, you
know, they did everything for me as required larning, like writing
letters and keeping 'counts; and as for little Kitty, she used to do
them beautiful, for Kitty was real clever; and I do s'pose the judge
took it for granted as the work was all my own, and so he thinks I can
do this job too. Now, if the parish school wa'n't broke up for the
holidays, I might get the schoolmaster to do it for me and pay him for
it; but, you see, he is gone North to visit his mother and he won't be
back until September, so the mischief knows what I shall do. I thought
I'd just ask your advice, Ishmael, because you have got such a wonderful
head of your own."
"Thank you, Uncle Reuben. Don't you be the least distressed. I can do
what is required to be done, and do it in a manner that shall give
satisfaction, too," said Ishmael.
"You! you, my boy! could you do that everlasting big botheration of a
job?"
"Yes, and do it well, I hope."
"Why, I don't believe the professor himself could!" exclaimed Gray, in
incredulous astonishment.
"Nor I, either," laughed Ishmael; "but I know that I can."
"But, my boy, it is such a task!"
"I should like it, of all things, Uncle Reuben! You could not give me a
greater treat than the privilege of overhauling all those books and
putting them in order and making the catalogue," said the youth eagerly.
And besides he was going to Claudia's house!
Reuben looked more and more astonished as Ishmael went on; but Hannah
spoke up:
"You may believe him, Reuben! He is book-mad; and it is my opinion, that
when he gets into that musty old library, among the dusty books, he will
fancy himself in heaven."
Reuben looked from the serious face of Hannah to the smiling eyes of
Ishmael, and inquired doubtfully:
"Is that the truth, my boy?"
"Something very near it, Uncle Reuben," answered Ishmael.
"Very well, my lad," exclaimed the greatly relieved overseer, gleefully
slapping his knees, "very well! as sure as you are horn, you shall go to
your heaven."