BEE.
And coldly from that noble heart,
In all its glowing youth,
His lore had turned and spurned apart
Its tenderness and truth—
Let him alone to live, or die—
Alone!—Yet, who is she?
Some guardian angel from the sky,
To bless and aid him?—Bee!
—Anon.
Ishmael received many other invitations. One morning, while he was seated at the table in his office, Walter Middleton entered, saying:
"Ishmael, leave reading over those stupid documents and listen to me. I am going to Saratoga for a month. Come with me; it will do you good."
"Thank you all the same, Walter; but I cannot leave the city now," said Ishmael.
"Nonsense! there is but little doing; and now, if ever, you should take some recreation."
"But I am busy with getting up some troublesome cases for the next term."
"And that's worse than nonsense! Leave the cases alone until the court sits; take some rest and recreation and you will find it pay well in renewed vigor of body and mind. I that tell you so am an M. D., you know."
"I thank you, Dr. Middleton, and when I find myself growing weak I will follow your prescription," smiled Ishmael, rising and beginning to tie up his documents.
"And that's a signal for my dismissal, I suppose. Off to the City
Hall again this morning?" inquired Walter.