"I wrote to the boy and said, 'I've found your father. Send me some money to help him.'
"He wrote back and said for me never to mention his father's name to him again, that it wasn't ever spoken around the house and that his father was forgotten.
"I replied: 'You miserable, low-down wretch. You can't disown your father and refuse to help him because he is down and out. Send me some money or I will publish the story in all of the papers.' He sent me five dollars and that's all I ever got from him. I took care of the old man all winter and in the spring I went to a relief society in Chicago and got him a ticket to his home and put him on the train and that was the last I ever saw of him."
Redeeming a Son
"I stood on the street one Sunday night giving out tickets inviting men to the men's meeting in Farwell Hall. Along came a young fellow, I should judge he was thirty, who looked prematurely old, and he said, 'Pard, will you give me a dime?'
"I said, 'No, sir.'
"'I want to get somethin' to eat.'
"I said, 'You look to me as though you were a booze-fighter.'
"'I am.'
"'I'll not give you money, but I'll get your supper.'