and continued to repeat some senseless or wicked rhymes, through the
reading of the beautiful chapter.

How thankfully Tip bowed his head that morning; his heart had taken in
some of the sweet words. That sacred head had been crowned with thorns,
indeed, but he knew it was crowned with glory now,--and he knew that
Christ had suffered and died for him! He joined with his whole heart in
Mr. Burrows's prayer; and, though Bob pulled his hair and tickled his
foot and stepped on his toes, the bowed head was not lifted, and his
spirit gathered strength.

But Tip never forgot the trials of that day, nor the hard work which he
had to endure them. Bob was, as usual, overflowing with mischief, and,
failing in finding the willing helper which he had expected in his old
companion, took revenge in aiming a great many of his pranks at him. Such
senseless, silly things as he did to annoy! Tip spread his slate over
with a long row of figures which he earnestly tried to add, and, having
toiled slowly up the first two columns, Bob's wet finger was slyly drawn
across it, and no trace of the answer so hardly earned appeared.

Then, too, he had his own heart to struggle against: he was so used to
whispering to this and that boy seated near him, to eating apples when
the teacher's back was turned, to making an ugly-looking picture on a
piece of paper and pinning it on the back of a small boy before him. He
was so unused to sitting still, and trying to study.

What hard work it was to study, any way! It seemed to him that he could
never get that spelling-lesson in the world; the harder he tried, the
more bewildered he grew. A dozen times he spelled the two words, receive
and believe, standing so closely together, each time sure he was right,