“I’ll go with you,” said he, after pausing a few moments, turning to the officer as he spoke.

The charge brought against Andrew by the watchman, was an intention to set fire to the buildings in which he found him.  Several unfinished houses had been burned of late, and there was some excitement in the public mind thereat.  Had it not been for this, Andrew might have made his way into the building where he intended to sleep, without, in all probability, attracting attention.  Unfortunately for him, a few matches were found in one of his pockets.  This fact, added to his attempt to escape, and the rather exaggerated statement of the watchman, caused the Mayor to look upon the case as one that ought to go before the Court.  He accordingly decided to require an appearance, under bail.

Not a word was spoken to Andrew by his stern father, on the arrival of the latter at the Mayor’s office.  Mr. Howland looked at the evidence which went to support the charge of intended incendiarism against his son, and to his mind, prejudiced as it was against that son, the evidence was conclusive.  In fact, the watchman’s eyes had seen rather more, than in reality, was to be seen, and his testimony was strongly colored.

The required security given, Mr. Howland, without turning toward his son, or speaking to him, left the office.

“You can go home, young man,” said the Mayor, addressing Andrew.

“Oh, sir!” exclaimed the unhappy boy, in a distressed tone—­“I am not guilty of this thing.  Father turned me from the door because I was not at home at ten o’clock, and I had no place to sleep.”

“Disobedience to parents ever brings trouble,” replied the Mayor, in a voice of admonition.  “Go home, and try to behave better in future.  If innocent, you will no doubt be able to make it so appear when your trial comes on before the Court.”

Slowly the lad arose, and with a troubled and downcast look, retired from the office.

“Where is Andrew?” eagerly asked the mother, as Mr. Howland entered the house, after returning from the errand upon which he had gone.

“I left him at the Mayor’s office,” was coldly replied.

“Did you go his bail?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t he come home with you?”

“I didn’t ask him.”

“Andrew!”

Mr. Howland started at the tone of voice with which his name was pronounced.  Again there was an expression in the eyes of his wife that subdued him.

“I gave bail for his appearance at Court, and then came away.  He will, no doubt, be home in a few minutes,” he replied.  “But I do not wish to hold any intercourse with him; for he has disgraced both himself and me.”

“Is he not your son?” asked the mother, solemnly.

“He is not a son worthy of affection and regard.”

“Andrew! when the sons of men wandered far away from God, and broke all his laws, did He turn from them as you have turned from this erring boy?  No!  All day long He stretched forth His hands to them, and said, in a voice full of infinite kindness, ’Return unto Me; why will you die?’ It is not Godlike to be angry at those who sin against us; but Godlike to draw them back with cords of love from error.  Oh, Andrew! you have wronged this boy!”