The warden very politely conducted Julia into his office, and soon after into the jail.  It was a long building inside of a building, with two rows of cells one above the other, each numbered, and upon each door a card, upon which was written, in characters only known to the officers of the prison, the prisoner’s name, crime, term of imprisonment, and general conduct whilst confined.

As Mr. Lang was waiting trial, he was not in one of these cells, but in one of large dimensions, and containing more conveniences.

As they entered, he was seated at a small table, with pen, ink and paper, engaged in writing.  He did not at first recognize his child, but in a moment sprang to her, and clasping her in his arms, said, “My child.”

Such a change in him needs some explanation.

After being committed to prison, his first thought was upon the change of his condition from what it formerly was; and his first resolution was to reform.  He thought of the deep plots he and his companion had laid to amass a fortune; but, supposing that the latter would be convicted, and condemned to serve a long time in confinement, he concluded that that scheme was exploded.

“Yet,” thought he, “if there be none on earth I can call my friends,—­if my family forsake me (yet just would it be in them should they reject my company),—­of what avail would my reformation be, except to a few dogging creditors, who would jeer and scoff at me at every corner, and attempt to drive me back to my present situation?  It might be some satisfaction to them to see me return; but what feelings would it arouse within me,—­with what hatred would I view mankind!  No; if none will utter a kind word to me, let me continue on; let the prison be my home, and the gallows my end, rather than attempt to reform while those who were once my friends stand around to drive me lack by scoffing remarks!”

Such were the sincere thoughts of Mr. Lang.  He would return, but none stood by to welcome him.  A few had visited him, most of whom had severely reflected upon his misdeeds.  They opened a dark prospect for him in the future.  “Now,” said they, “you must here remain; receive retribution for your evil deeds, and a sad warning to others not to follow in your steps, lest they arrive at the same goal.”  Was there encouragement in this?  Surely not; he deemed them not the words of friendship, and he was right in his judgment.

“Why did you visit this dark prison?” inquired Mr. Lang.

“Because you are here, father!” was the artless reply.

“And could you forgive your father?  How could you seek him, when he forsook you?” Mr. Lang could not make this last observation without becoming affected even to tears.

Julia seemed to take courage; new energies seemed to be imparted to her.  She felt an unseen influence at her side, and a holy calmness resting upon her soul.

“Prison-walls cannot bar you from my heart, though in the worst place on earth.  Though friends laugh me to scorn when I seek your presence, you are my father still, and ungrateful would I be did I not own you as such!