Tip Lewis and His Lamp | Page 7

God that you may all be there, every one."
Just a little speech it was,--so little that the youngest there might almost remember the whole of it,--yet it meant so much.
Tip Lewis had wedged his way in among the boys until he stood very near the minister, and his face wore a sober, thoughtful look. It was only two days since his long talk with himself at the pond. Fourth of July, with all the merrymaking and mischief that it brought to him, had nearly driven sober thoughts from his mind, but the minister's solemn words brought back the memory of his half-formed resolves, and again he said to himself he believed he would reform; this time he added that if he knew about how to do it, he would begin right away. He felt it more than ever when the sweet voices of many children floated out on the evening air, as they sang,--
"I have read of a world of beauty, Where there is no gloomy night, Where love is the mainspring of duty, And God is the fountain of light. I have read of the flowing river That bursts from beneath the throne, And beautiful flowers that ever Are found on its banks alone. I long--I long--I long to be there!"
If somebody had only known Tip's thoughts as he stood there listening to the beautiful Sabbath school hymn! If somebody had only bent down to him, and whispered a few words, just to set his poor wandering feet into the narrow way, how blessed it would have been: but nobody did.
Ah, never mind! God knew, and took care of him.
CHAPTER IV.
"They that seek Me shall find Me."
Mrs. Lewis's room was in order for once; swept, and even dusted; the cook-stove cooled off, and the green paper curtain at the window let down, to shut out the noise and dust; it was quiet there too.
Kitty stood in the open door, her face and hands clean, hair combed, and dress mended; stood quite still, and with a sober face, unmindful, for once, that there were butterflies to chase and flies to kill all around her. In the only comfortable seat in the room, a large old-fashioned arm-chair, sat the worn, wasted frame of Kitty's father. There was a look of hopeless sadness settled on his face. Neither Tip nor his mother were to be seen. One or two women were moving through the house, with quiet steps, bringing in chairs and doing little thoughtful things in and about that wonderfully orderly room.
On the table was that which told the whole story of this unusual stillness and preparation. It was a pine coffin, very small and plain; and in it, with folded hands and brown hair rolled smoothly back from his baby forehead, little Johnny lay, asleep. Somebody, with a touch of tenderness, had placed a just budding rose in the tiny white hand, and baby looked very sweet and beautiful in his narrow bed. Poor little Johnny! his had been a sad, neglected babyhood; many weary hours had he spent in his cradle, receiving only cross looks from Kitty, and neglected by the mother, who, though she loved Johnny, and even because she loved him, must leave him to work for her daily bread. But it was all over now: Johnny's cries would never disturb them again; Johnny's weary little body rested quietly in its coffin; Johnny's precious self was gathered in the Saviour's arms.
Tip came out of the bedroom, and softly approached the coffin; his hair, too, was partly combed, and some attempt had been made to put his ragged clothes in order. His heart swelled, and the tears gathered in his eyes, as they rested on the baby.
Tip loved his little brother, and though he had not had much to do with him, yet he had this much to comfort him,--Johnny had received only kindness and good-natured words from him, which was more than Kitty could say. As she stood there in the door, it seemed to her that every time she had ever said cross, naughty words to the poor baby, or turned away from his pitiful cry for comfort, or shook his little helpless self, came back to her now,--stood all around his coffin, and looked straight at her. Poor Kitty thought if he could only come back to them for a little while, she would hold him in her arms all night, without a murmur.
People began to come in now from the lowly houses about them, and fill the empty chairs. Mrs. Lewis came out from the bedroom, and sat down beside the arm-chair, thankful that her tear-stained face and swollen eyes were hidden, by the thick black veil which some thoughtful neighbour had sent for her use.
In a few minutes a dozen or more people