Tip Lewis and His Lamp | Page 5

what kind of a fellow he was; he turned right square round after that man talked to him. Now he is a minister; I suppose lots of people like him. It must be kind of nice, the whole of it. I would like to be somebody, as true as I live, I would. I'd like to have the people say, 'There goes Tip Lewis; he's the best boy in town.' Bless me! that would be funny; I don't believe they could ever say it; they are so used to calling me the worst, they couldn't help it. What if I should reform? I declare I don't know but I will."
And Tip rolled over on his back, and looked up into the blue, cloudless sky; lying there, he certainly had some of the most sober thoughts, perhaps the only really sober ones he had ever known in his life. And when at last he slowly picked himself up, turned his back upon the darting fishes, and walked towards the school-house, he had in his mind some vague notion that perhaps he would be different from that time forth. Just what he was going to do, or how to commence doing it, he didn't know; but the story, to which he had seemed not to listen at all, had crept into his heart, had commenced its work; very dimly was it working, very blindly he might grope for a while, but the seed sown had taken root.
CHAPTER III.
"Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye did it unto Me."
Around the corner, and far up the street from where Tip Lewis lived, there stood a large white house; not another house in the village was so beautiful as this. Many a time had Tip walked slowly by the place, and cast the most admiring glances on the broad green lawns and bubbling fountain, of which he caught; glimpses from the road. Often he had stood outside, at the great gate, and fairly longed for a nearer view of that same fountain; for the truth was, though he was such a rough, mischief-making,--yes, a wicked boy, down in his heart he had a great love for beautiful things.
On this Fourth of July morning, Tip was up and abroad very early. He held a horse, which had been so frightened by fire-crackers that it wouldn't stand still a minute, and the owner of it gave him ten cents, with which he immediately bought fire-crackers for himself, and frightened the very next horse he saw. When the great cannon on the hill was fired, he got in the way, just as much as he knew how, which was a great deal; he contrived to be around when the largest bell was rung, and add his voice to the uproar among the boys who were gathered around the church doors; indeed, wherever there was commotion or confusion, Tip managed very soon to be, and to do his part towards making the most of it.
About ten o'clock he had lived out the most of his pleasures, having been on hand since a little after three. He had no more money to spend, saw no chance of getting any more; he had had no breakfast, and was very much in doubt as to whether he would get any, if he took the trouble to go home; he had some way lost track of all his companions; and, altogether, he was beginning to feel as if the Fourth of July were a humbug. He felt ill-used, angry; it seemed to him that he was being cheated out of a good time that he expected to have. He sat down on the edge of an old sugar-barrel and thought about it a while; then finally, with his hands in his pockets, and whistling "Yankee Doodle" in honour of the day, he sauntered along the street in search of something to take up his time.
Hurrying towards him, with hands not in his pockets, but full of packages, came Mr. Mintum, the owner of the grand white house on the hill.
To Tip's surprise, the gentleman halted suddenly before him, and, eyeing him closely, asked, "Whose boy are you?"
"John Lewis's."
"Where do you live?"
"T'other side of the pond, by the mill."
"Oh, your father is the carpenter, I suppose,--I know him. What's your name?"
"Tip."
"Tip! What kind of a name is that? is it all the one you own?"
"Well," said Tip, "I suppose my name was Edward when I was a little shaver; but nobody knows it now; I don't myself."
"Well, Tip, then, I'll call you that, for I want you to know yourself to-night. What are you going to do?"
"When? to-night? Oh, hang around, I s'pose,--have some fun, if I can find any."
"Fun. Is that what you're after? You