After the sentence the prisoner was permitted to see his family for
the last time for many months. It was a sad and touching interview;
but from it Lawry and his mother derived much consolation. John
Wilford was penitent; he was truly sorry for what he had done, and
declared that, when he had served out his time, he would be a better
man than he had ever been before. It was comforting to the mother and
son to know that the wanderer was not hardened and debased by his
crime and the exposure; and they returned to their home submissive to
their lot, sad and dreary as it was.

From the day his father had been arrested, Lawry felt that the care
of the family devolved upon him. His older brother was away from
home, and was indolent and dissipated. The ferry and the little farm
must be cared for, as from them came the entire support of his mother
and his brothers and sisters. Though he was oppressed by the burden
of sorrow which his father's crime cast upon him, he did not yield to
despair.

Half a mile below the ferry-landing he could see the smokestack of
the _Woodville_ projecting above the water. She was his property;
and if she had seemed to be a prize to him before the calamity had
fallen upon his father's household, she was doubly so now. As he
crossed the ferry, he gazed up at the Goblins, with less of exultation,
but more of hope, than before. In his opinion, as he expressed it to his
mother, there was "money in her." Mrs. Wilford was in great tribulation
lest the man who now held the mortgage upon the little farm should
insist upon being paid, as there was now no hope that, the debtor, in
prison, would be able to do anything. Lawry told her that the steamboat
would enable them to pay all claims upon his father.