CHAPTER III.
"Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye did it unto Me." Around the corner, and far up the street from where Tip Lewis lived, there stood a large white house; not another house in the village was so beautiful as this.

Many a time had Tip walked slowly by the place, and cast the most admiring glances on the broad green lawns and bubbling fountain, of which he caught; glimpses from the road.

Often he had stood outside, at the great gate, and fairly _longed_ for a nearer view of that same fountain; for the truth was, though he was such a rough, mischief-making,--yes, a _wicked_ boy, down in his heart he had a great love for beautiful things.
On this Fourth of July morning, Tip was up and abroad very early.

He held a horse, which had been so frightened by fire-crackers that it wouldn't stand still a minute, and the owner of it gave him ten cents, with which he immediately bought fire-crackers for himself, and frightened the very next horse he saw.

When the great cannon on the hill was fired, he got in the way, just as much as he knew how, which was a great deal; he contrived to be around when the largest bell was rung, and add his voice to the uproar among the boys who were gathered around the church doors; indeed, wherever there was commotion or confusion, Tip managed very soon to be, and to do his part towards making the most of it.
About ten o'clock he had lived out the most of his pleasures, having been on hand since a little after three.