"Yes," said the Elder, "but I am grieved to be obliged to say that my
boy is very wayward. He has been expelled from school so often, and
has had so much trouble with his teachers that I doubt if you can do
anything with him. I thought, however, that I would come and speak to
you about him, and if you were willing to try him, at least for a
little while, I should be under great obligations. For, really, it is
a terrible thing, sir, for one to feel that he must give up a
first-born son and see him go down to destruction. And yet I am
compelled to say frankly to you that I fear our boy is almost beyond
hope."

This was said in an agonized tone that told how deeply the sorrow had
taken hold of the father's heart. There is a sentence somewhere that
reads, "If thou canst, have mercy on us and save our son, for he is
grievously tormented." The world is much the same now as it was a good
many years ago, isn't it?

"How old is your boy?" asked Mr. Bright in a quiet, measured tone.

"Nearly seventeen," replied the parson, "but he is greatly behind in
his school work. As I said, he has been turned out of school till he
hates it, and, to tell the truth, he has done little but roam the
streets for the last few years. I feel that I ought to be ashamed,
being his father, to make such a confession, but it is the truth, and I
felt that you ought to know about it."

"Yes," said Mr. Bright thoughtfully.

"If you could take charge of him yourself," continued the father almost
imploringly. "I know it is asking a great deal, and that perhaps it