which follows that familiar tale afar off, indeed, begins in the same
way. And the parallelism between the two is exact up to a certain point.
What difference a little point doth make; like the little fire, behold,
how great a matter it kindleth! Indeed, lacking that one detail the
older story would have had no value; it would not have been told;
without its addition this would have been a repetition of the other.

When the modern young prodigal came to himself, when he found himself no
longer able to endure the husks of the swine like his ancient exemplar,
when he rose and returned to his father because of that distaste, he
found no father watching and waiting for him at the end of the road!
Upon that change the action of this story hangs. It was a pity, too,
because the elder brother was there and in a mood not unlike that of his
famous prototype.

Indeed, there was added to that elder brother's natural resentment at
the younger's course the blinding power of a great sorrow, for the
father of the two sons was dead. He had died of a broken heart.
Possessed of no omniscience of mind or vision, he had been unable to
foresee the long delayed turning point in the career of his younger son
and death came too swiftly to enable them to meet again. So long as he
had strength, that father had stood, as it were, at the top of the hill
looking down the road watching and hoping.

And but the day before the tardy prodigal's return he had been laid away
with his own fathers in the God's acre around the village church in the
Pennsylvania hills. Therefore there was no fatted calf ready for the
disillusioned youth whose waywardness had killed his father. It will be
remembered that the original elder brother objected seriously to fatted
calves on such occasions. Indeed, the funeral baked meats would coldly