"Oh, professor, I am thinking of Aunt Hannah. It is awful to hear her rail about the great heroes as she does. It is flat blasphemy," replied the boy solemnly.
"Hum, ha, well, but you see, young Ishmael, though I wouldn't like to say one word to dampen your enthusiasm for great heroism, yet the truth is the truth; and that compels me to say that you do fall down and worship these same said heroes a little too superstitiously. Why, law, my boy, there wasn't one of them, at twelve years of age, had any more courage or wisdom than you have—even if as much."
"Oh, professor, don't say that—don't! it is almost as bad as anything Aunt Hannah says of them. Don't go to compare their great boyhood with mine. History tells what they were, and I know myself what I am."
"I doubt if you do, young Ishmael."
"Yes! for I know that I haven't even so much as the courage that you think I have; for, do you know, professor, when I was in that burning house I was frightened when I saw the red smoke rolling into the passage and heard the fire roaring so near me? And once—I am ashamed to own it, but I will, because I know George Washington always owned his faults when he was a boy—once, I say, I was tempted to run away and leave the boys to their fate."
"But you didn't do it, my lad. And you were not the less courageous because you knew the danger that you freely met. You are brave, Ishmael, and as good and wise as you are brave."
"Oh, professor, I know you believe so, else you wouldn't say it; but I cannot help thinking that if I really were good I shouldn't vex Aunt Hannah as often as I do."
"Humph!" said the professor.
"And then if I were wise, I would always know right from wrong."
"And don't you?"