Tip Lewis and His Lamp

BY PANSY
AUTHOR OF ESTER RIED, ESTER RIED YET SPEAKING, MRS. SOLOMON SMITH LOOKING ON, AN ENDLESS CHAIN, FOUR GIRLS AT CHAUTAUQUA, ETC. ETC.
The room was very full. Children, large and small, boys and girls, and some looking almost old enough to be called men and women, filled the seats. The scholars had just finished singing their best-loved hymn, Happy Land; and the superintendent was walking up and down the room, spying out classes here and there which were without teachers, and supplying them from the visitors' seat, which was up by the desk.
The long seat near the door was filled this morning by half a dozen dirty, ragged, barefooted boys; their teacher's seat was vacant, and those boys looked, every one, as though they had come thither just to have a grand frolic.
Oh, such bright, cunning, wicked faces as they had!
Their torn pants and jackets, their matted hair, even the very twinkle in their eyes, showed that they were the Mission Class.
That is, the class which somebody had gathered from the little black, comfortless-looking houses which thronged a narrow back street of that village, and coaxed to come to the Sabbath school,—to this large, light, pleasant room, where the sun shone in upon little girls in white dresses, with blue and pink ribbons fluttering from their shoulders; and upon little boys, whose snowy linen collars and dainty knots of black ribbon had evidently been arranged by careful hands that very morning.
But those boys in the corner kicked their bare heels together, pulled each other's hair, or laughed in each other's faces in the greatest good humour.
The superintendent stopped before them.
Well, boys, good morning; glad to see you all here. Where's your teacher?
Hain't got none! answered one,
Gone to Guinea! said another.