Burrows, and given to Tip for a keepsake. He
spread it out on a flat stone which lay near him, and began his work.
A long, slow work it was for Tip. Hours of that day, and the next, and
the next, every day, until the fading light drove him home, did he sit
under the elm-tree turning the leaves of his Bible, poring over its
contents, writing words carefully now and then on his bit of paper.
Remember it was new work to him.
At last, one evening, the sun went down in the bright red west, the stars
shone out in all their twinkling, sparkling glory, the shadows began to
fall thick and fast around the old tree, when Tip, with a little sigh of
relief, folded the precious piece of paper, laid it carefully away in his
Bible, and turned his steps homeward. His acrostic was finished, and into
his heart had crept some of the beauty of those precious words, which he
had found for the first time. Words they were which would go with him
through all his life, and sweetly comfort some dark and weary hours.
The school-books were all piled neatly on the desks that Friday
afternoon; the shades were dropped to shut out the low afternoon sun; and
forty boys were still and expectant.
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