Tip Lewis and His Lamp | Page 2

Mr. Parker led her to the seat near the door.
"Now, boys," said he, "this is Miss Perry. Suppose you see if you can't all be gentlemen, and treat her well."
Miss Perry sat down in the teacher's chair, her heart all in a flutter. She taught a class in her own Sabbath school hundreds of miles away,--five rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed little girls gathered around her every Sabbath; but they were little girls whose mothers had taught them to love their lessons, to listen respectfully to what their teacher said, to bow their heads reverently in prayer; and more than that, they loved her, and she loved them. But these boys! Still she must say something: six pairs of bright, roguish eyes, brimful of fire and fun, were bent on her.
"Boys," she said gently, "have you any lessons for me?"
"Not much," answered Bob Turner, who always spoke first.
"We don't get lessons mostly. Don't come unless it's too hot to go fishing or berrying."
"Tip comes 'cause he's too lazy to go past the door,"
"I don't!" drawled out the boy they called Tip; "I come to get out of the sun; it's hotter than sixty down home."
"Never mind, boys," said their frightened teacher; for they were all laughing now, as though the funniest thing in the world had happened. "See here, since you have no lessons, shall I tell you a story?"
Oh yes, they were willing enough to hear a story, if it wasn't stupid.
"I'll tell you something that happened to a boy when he was about thirteen years old. His name is Robert; he told me this story himself, so you may be sure it's true.
"He said one evening he was walking slowly down the main street of the village where he lived"--
"Where was that?" asked Bob Turner.
"Oh, it was away out west. He said he felt cross and unhappy; he had nowhere in particular to go, and nothing to do. As he walked, he came to a turn where two roads met. 'Now,' thought he, 'shall I turn to the left and go home, and hang around until bed-time, or shall I turn to the right and go down to the river awhile?'
"You see, Robert hadn't a happy home,--his mother was dead, and his father was a drunkard.
"While he stood thinking, a boy came around the other corner, and called out,--
"Going home, Rob?'
"'Don't know,' said Robert; 'I can't make up my mind.'
"'Suppose you come on down to our house, and we'll have a game of ball?'
"Still Robert waited. He was fond of playing ball,--that was certain,--and he liked company better than to walk alone; why he should think of wandering off down to the river by himself he was sure he didn't know. Still something seemed to keep saying to him, 'Go this way--turn to the right; come, go to the river, 'until he said at last,--
"'No; I guess I'll take a walk this way first.'
"And he turned the corner, then he was but a few steps from the river."
"What came of the other fellow?" asked Bob.
"Why, some more boys came up just then, and he walked along with them.
"There was a large elm-tree on the river bank, and there was one particular spot under it that Robert called his seat; but he found a gentleman seated there this time; he had a book in his hand, partly closed, and he was leaning back against a tree, watching the sunset.
"He looked around as he heard Robert's step, and said, 'Good evening; will you have a seat?'
"He moved along, and Robert sat down on the grass near him; then he said,--
"'I heard a boy call out to another just now, "Going home, Robert?" Are you the boy?'
"'No,' said Robert; 'Hal Carter screamed that out to me just as he came round the corner.'
"'Oh, you are the one he was talking to. Well, I'll ask you the same question. Are you going home?'
"'No,' said Robert again; 'I have just walked straight away from home.'
"'Yes; but are you going up there?' And the gentleman pointed up to the blue sky. 'That's the home I mean; I've just been reading about it; this river made me think of it. Where it says, you know, "And he showed me a pure river of water, clear as crystal." Then it goes on to describe the city with its "gates of pearl" and "streets of gold," the robes and crowns that the people wear, the harps on which they play, and, after this warm day, I couldn't help thinking that one of the pleasantest things about this home was the promise, "Neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat." Aren't you going to that home, my boy?'"
"'I don't know,' Robert said, feeling very much astonished."
At this point the superintendent's bell rang, and Miss Perry had to hasten her