in that regard. Their thoughts and minds were so bent on the other
world, and things unseen bulked so hugely on their mental vision, that
there was small space left for things of this earth. They, good, simple
souls, were made for and ought to have lived in the Golden Age, when all
men were brave and all women true, where neighborly eyes reflected the
love and faith within; but in our utilitarian days they were sadly out
of place, and little wonder if they had lost their way in this world.

In their intense longing for the life beyond the grave, their passionate
desire to walk the streets of gold, they, by their actions, seemed to
forget that we were on this earth, and that we were here with many sharp
reminders of the fact.

The same guilelessness was manifested in their choice of our home
reading. The books I was allowed access to in the house were "The Life
of King David," "The History of Jerusalem," "Baxter's Saints' Rest,"
"The Immortal Dreamer's Pilgrim" and Fox's "Book of Martyrs." His first
martyr is Stephen, and such was my gross ignorance of history that I
always supposed Stephen had been martyred by the Church of Rome. Here
was mental food for a boy who had his own way to make in the world.

[Illustration: A HOME CHRISTMAS DINNER VS. IN A CELL. "WHERE IS OUR
WANDERING BOY TO-NIGHT?"]

Craving other mental food than "The Life of David," I used to club
pennies with a chum and buy that delectable sheet, "Ned Buntline's Own,"
then in fear and trembling would creep to an upper room and read "The
Haunted House" or "The Ghost of Castle Ivy" until my hair stood on end
in a sort of ecstatic horror; or the stirring adventures of "Jack the
Rover" or "Pirate Chief" until my brain took fire and a mighty impulse
stirred every fibre impelling me to follow in their footsteps.

I had remained idly at home for some six months after my release from
school, when one night my father returned from New York and said: "My
son, I have found a situation for you." That was delightful news, and
when I went to bed that night I was too excited to sleep.

The future was full of color, red and purple, of course. Happily for me
the future in all its black misery was hidden behind those gilded
clouds.

So now at sixteen I was about to sail out of harbor, and how equipped!

Absolutely without education, void of worldly wisdom, and in my boyish
brain dividing the world into two sections. In one was King David
slaying the Phillistines o