"Certainly," replied Mr. Bright, "send him along, and we will endeavor to take care of him, amongst us."
"Yes," said the Elder, "but I am grieved to be obliged to say that my boy is very wayward. He has been expelled from school so often, and has had so much trouble with his teachers that I doubt if you can do anything with him. I thought, however, that I would come and speak to you about him, and if you were willing to try him, at least for a little while, I should be under great obligations. For, really, it is a terrible thing, sir, for one to feel that he must give up a first-born son and see him go down to destruction. And yet I am compelled to say frankly to you that I fear our boy is almost beyond hope."
This was said in an agonized tone that told how deeply the sorrow had taken hold of the father's heart. There is a sentence somewhere that reads, "If thou canst, have mercy on us and save our son, for he is grievously tormented." The world is much the same now as it was a good many years ago, isn't it?
"How old is your boy?" asked Mr. Bright in a quiet, measured tone.
"Nearly seventeen," replied the parson, "but he is greatly behind in his school work. As I said, he has been turned out of school till he hates it, and, to tell the truth, he has done little but roam the streets for the last few years. I feel that I ought to be ashamed, being his father, to make such a confession, but it is the truth, and I felt that you ought to know about it."
"Yes," said Mr. Bright thoughtfully.
"If you could take charge of him yourself," continued the father almost imploringly. "I know it is asking a great deal, and that perhaps it will be impossible for you to grant what I ask, for I am aware that my boy is not advanced in his studies as far as the average of the pupils that recite to you, and I have long since learned, by sad experience, the inexorableness of the present graded school system, which forces pupils into their places strictly according to their examination records, regardless of all other contingencies. I beg your pardon, if I seem to speak harshly," he quickly added, fearing that he might have reflected too severely upon the gentleman to whom he was speaking.
"You need offer no apology," returned Mr. Bright. "I regret as much as you can the too rigorous ways that have fallen upon our schools."
"Well, will you give the boy a trial?" asked the parson, bringing the issue to a point.
"Most certainly," returned Mr. Bright, and then the gentlemen wished each other "good-morning," the parson going home and the teacher turning to his desk again.