"What magnificence!" he exclaimed. "How glad I am that my father sent me hither to see such wondrous things!" With hope beaming in every feature, he approached the door and knocked.
It was opened by one whose voice and face exhibited no sign of welcome. He cast an impatient glance upon the traveler, who shrank abashed and trembling from so rude a gaze.
"Can I find food and shelter here?" he asked, his voice tremulous with emotion.
The door was shut upon him.
It was not the cold of the piercing storm which he felt then, but the chill of an inhospitable soul. It froze the warm current of hope that, a few moments before, had leaped so wildly in his veins; and he went forth from the elegant mansion, and sat upon the ground and wept.
"O father! why did you send your child so far away to meet the harsh and cruel treatment of the world when your home abounds with plenty?" said the weary child.
The shades of night were gathering fast. The cold, damp ground, which had been his only bed so many nights, offered a poor protection now for his weary form.
"I was contented there. Why did he send me hither?" was the questioning of his mind as he sat alone and sad.
As he was about to lay himself upon the ground, he saw light glimmering through the trees, just as the light of hope breaks on us at the moment of despair.
"I would journey thither," he said, despondingly; "but rest and shelter were denied me here. How can I hope to find it elsewhere?"