Mr. Minturn from Albany
was very kind. Tip was to have wages that seemed a small fortune to him,
and enough had been advanced to get him a new suit of clothes, which his
mother made.
One would have supposed that the future would look bright to him; yet it
was with a very sad heart that he took his seat in prayer-meeting that
Thursday evening, the last time he expected to be in that room for--he
didn't know how long. He had a feeling that he ought to be very glad and
thankful, and wasn't at all.
Through the opening hymns and prayers his heart kept growing heavier
every moment, and it was not until Mr. Holbrook arose, and repeated the
text which he had chosen for the evening, that Tip could arouse himself
to listen. It was a queer text, so he thought,--"Who shall roll away the
stone?" What could Mr. Holbrook be going to say on that? He found out,
and had reason to remember it for ever after. As he went out from that
meeting, his thoughts, had he spoken them, would have been like these:
"That's true,--I don't believe any man but Mr.
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