One Sabbath evening a teacher was walking up and down in the porch

before his house, in one of the South Sea Islands. The sun was setting

behind the waves of the ocean, and the labors of the day were over. In

that cool, quiet hour, the teacher was in prayer, asking a blessing on

his people, his scholars, and himself. As he heard the leaves of the

Mimosa tree rustling, he thought the breeze was springing up--and

d his walk. Again he heard the leaves rattle, and he felt sure

that it could not be the wind. So he pushed aside the long leafy

branches of the trees, and passed beneath. And what did he find there?

Three little boys. Two were fast asleep in each other's arms, but the

third was awake.

"What are you doing there, my children?" asked the teacher. "We have

come to sleep here," said the boy. "And why do you sleep here; have

you no home?" "Oh, yes," said the lad, "but if we sleep here, we are

sure to be ready when the school bell rings in the morning." "And do

your parents know about it?" "Mine do," said the lad, "but these

little boys have no parents; they are orphans."

You know the nights in the South Sea Islands are not cold and damp

like ours, but as the teacher thought a heavy rain would fall in the

night, he roused the orphans, and led the three little boys into the

large porch of the house where they might rest in safety. He was happy

to find that they were some of his scholars, and that they loved their

school. What would these little Islanders think if they could look

from their distant homes into some of our schools and see how many

late comers there are!