The Winter was nearly over when "Slippery Jim" came to me and expressed
a wish to return to the World again. If his father would only accept
him once more!
My observation of a father's attitude towards his prodigal son is that
the moment the son desires to live as he ought, not only do closed
doors open, but the father stands ready with outstretched arms to
receive him. This supposedly harsh father, when he was convinced that
his Jim had worked faithfully at the Colony for several months, was
anxious that his son return home. Even the boy's old employer expressed
sympathy and offered a position to him.
When this good news came I did not have to tell the boy anything about
its being one's duty to be cheerful. He wanted to dance a clog on the
table in the men's reading room.
Early the next morning he left us, not waiting to thank us, which was
quite unnecessary; nor hardly stopping to say good-bye to us. But a
few days afterward he wrote to me, saying that after four years he was
back with his father and mother, brother and sisters, in his own room,
sleeping in his own bed. The family had arranged it just the same as it
had been before he left them for those sad years in prison. His father
had purchased him a new suit for Easter. The next day he was to start
to work.
Nearly a year later he visited me. His work had taken him out of town.
"When I first met you," he said. "I didn't have a home. Now it is a
question which one to visit first, but I thought I would come out to
see you, and then go this evening and see my other father."
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