As John's father looked into the deep pathetic eyes of his son, he
in part understood the meaning of what he read. He could see that the
soul of his child was crying out for something; but again he failed to
understand the true longings of the young heart. He failed to see that
the boy was being crushed by sinful habits, and that for parental care
and interest he was starving. In ignorance the father supposed that
the boy's unrest was due to a longing to know more of the world, to
a feeling akin to that which an explorer experiences.

Poor man! Could he have known just then what really was troubling his
boy, he could have stayed the spirit of unrest by holding out to John
the "olive branch of peace." He could have said: "John, we have drifted
apart. We are not to one another what we used to be. Stop, my boy; sit
down here. Let us carefully talk these things over before you take such
a step. Out in the world you will meet many temptations and evils, more
than you have ever known." And many other tender words of advice he
might have spoken to the child; but these things were left unspoken.

Instead, his father only said, "John, I would like to have you remain
at home a while longer; but if you are determined to go, you may, only
remember to try to do as nearly right as you can! I have wanted to bring
you up well for your mother's sake; for she had made so many plans for
your future. My wish, John, is that you become a good man."

John was deeply touched by his father's farewell speech; and had there
been any other drawing to keep him at home, he certainly would have
remained. As it was, he soon gathered together his belongings, and while
still in his thirteenth year, said good-by to his people, and went away
to work for a thrifty farmer.