ther. You come up and see me. Promise me."

And the old man promised.

It was not, however, until nearly a year later that the Rev. Abram Dixon
went up to visit his son's church. Robert met him at the station, and
took him to the little parsonage which the young clergyman's people had
provided for him. It was a very simple place, and an aged woman served
the young man as cook and caretaker; but Abram Dixon was astonished at
what seemed to him both vainglory and extravagance.

"Ain't you livin' kin' o' high fo' yo' raisin', Robbie?" he asked.

The young man laughed. "If you'd see how some of the people live here,
father, you'd hardly say so."

Abram looked at the chintz-covered sofa and shook his head at its
luxury, but Robert, on coming back after a brief absence, found his
father sound asleep upon the comfortable lounge.

On the next day they went out together to see something of the city. By
the habit of years, Abram Dixon was an early riser, and his son was
like him; so they were abroad somewhat before business was astir in the
town. They walked through the commercial portion and down along the
wharves and levees. On every side the same sight assailed their eyes:
black boys of all ages and sizes, the waifs and strays of the city, lay
stretched here and there on the wharves or curled on doorsills, stealing
what sleep they could before the relentless day should drive them forth
to beg a pittance for subsistence.

"Such as these we try to get into our flock and do something for," said
Robert.

His father looked on sympathetically, and yet hardly with full
understanding. There was poverty in his own little village, yes, even
squalour, but he had never seen anything just like this. At home almost
everyone found some open door, and rare was the wanderer who slept
out-of-doors except from choice.

At nine o'clock they went to the police court, and the old minister saw
many of his race appear as prisoners, receiving brief attention and long
sentences. Finally a boy was arraigned for theft. He was a little,
wobegone fellow hardly ten years of age. He was charged with stealing
cakes from a bakery. The judge was about to deal with him as quickly as
with the others, and Abram's heart bled for the child, when he saw a
negro call the judge's attention. He turned to find that Robert had left
his side. There was a whispered consultation, and then the old preacher
heard with joy, "As this is his first offence and a trustwor