crude, highly colored pictures
illustrating the story of the prodigal son. The pictures were French;
and a study of the titles convinced the family that "prodigue" could
mean nothing but prodigal in the worst sense, i. e., "lost." Stoffel
had maintained this proposition against one of his colleagues, till
that one drew a lexicon on him.

After much argument it was decided to compromise on the "mistake"
in the French Bible by allowing "prodigue" to have sometimes the
meaning of "extravagant." Those pictures had afforded Walter much
food for thought.

First picture: The "lost" or prodigal son tells his father
good-bye. The old gentleman wears a purple coat. Very pretty--but the
prodigal himself! A mantle floated about his shoulders--it seemed to
be windy in the colonnade. It was princely; and his turkish trousers
were of pure gold. At his side was a bent sabre, and on his head a
turban, with a stone in it--certainly onyx, or sardonox, or a pearl,
or a precious stone--or whatever it might be!

The old gentleman seemed to be out of humor; but no wonder--all those
loaded camels, and the slaves, and all the accessories for that long,
long journey! A negro, as black as pitch, was holding a horse by
the rein. Another negro was holding the stirrup, and seemed to say:
"Off to the Devil; prodigal, get on!"

What boy wouldn't have been a prodigal son? The bent sabre alone was
worth the sin.

Second picture: Hm--hm. Wicked, wicked! Why, certainly; but not for
Walter, who in his innocence attached no importance to the extravagant
dresses of the "Juffrouwen." It was sufficient that all were eating
and drinking bountifully, and that they were in good spirits and
enjoying themselves. How prettily one of the girls, in glossy silk,
was leaning over the shoulder of the "lost" one! How much nicer to be
lost than found!--anyway, that was the impression the feast made on
Walter. The true purpose of the picture--to deter people from a life of
dissoluteness--escaped Walter entirely. Perhaps he knew what it meant;
but in his heart he felt that it meant something else. What attracted
him most was not the food and drink, under which the table "groaned,"
nor the sinful sensuality painted on the faces of the ladies. It was
the freedom and unconventionality of the company that charmed him. In
order to emphasize the idea of prodigality, the painter had allowed
some big dogs to upset an open cask of wine.

The wine was streaming, and straying a