interesting looking people, and
she hovered near, hoping that she had at last found the "children" who
would "play" with her--a remembrance of one of her nursery stories
coming to her just then, and a ludicrous sense of her resemblance to the
truant boy who spent the long, bright day in the woods searching for one
not too busy to play.

But these two were discussing nothing of more importance than the lesson
for the coming Sabbath; and though she hovered in their vicinity for
some time, she caught only stray words--names of places in the far away
Judean land, that seemed to her like a name in the Arabian Nights; or an
eager dissertation on the different views of eminent commentators on
this or that knotty point; and so engrossed were they in their work
that they bestowed on her only the slightest passing glance, and then
bent over their books.

She went away in disgust. At the next tent half a dozen ladies were
sitting. She halted there. Here at last were some people who, like
herself, were bored with this everlasting meeting, and had escaped to
have a bit of gossip. Who knew but she might creep into the circle and
find pleasant acquaintances? So she drew nearer and listened a moment to
catch the subject under discussion. She heard the voice of prayer; and a
nearer peep showed her that every head was bowed on the seat in front,
and one of the ladies, in a low voice, was asking for enlightenment _on
the lesson for the coming Sabbath_!

"What wonderful lesson can it be that is so fearfully important?" she
muttered, as she plunged recklessly into the mud and made her way in all
haste up the hill without attempting any more tents. "Who ever heard
such an ado made about a Sunday-school lesson? These people all act as
though there was nothing of any consequence anywhere but
Sunday-schools. I guess it is the first time that such a _furor_ was
ever gotten up over teaching a dozen verses to a parcel of children. I
wonder if the people at home ever make such a uproar about the lesson? I
know some teachers who own up, on the way to church, that they don't
know where the lesson is. This must be a peculiar one. I wonder how I
shall contrive to discover where it is? The girls won't know, of course.
With all their boasted going to meeting they know no more about lessons
than I do myself. I would really like to find out. I mean to ask the
next person I meet. It will be in accordance with the fashion of the
place. Think of my walkin