a meeting a
young man with pale cheeks and a look of utter despair on his face,
looking as though he hadn't had a square meal in many a day. It was Tom.
I didn't know him then. There are so many such cases on the Bowery one
gets used to them. But I took particular notice of this young man. He
sat down and listened to the services, and when the invitation was given
to those who wanted to lead better lives he put up his hand.

Now there was something striking about his face, and I took to him. I
thought of my own life and dreaded the future for him. I spoke to him,
gained his confidence by degrees, and he told me his story as written in
the preceding pages.

Here was a prodigal just as bad as the one in the Bible story. Well, he
was converted that night and took Jesus as his helper. He told me all
about his home, mother, and friends who had enough and to spare. The
servants had a better time and more to eat than he. "Tom," I said, "why
don't you go home?" "Oh, Mr. Ranney," he said, "I wish I could, but I
want to go back a little better than I am now." And God knows he was in
bad shape; the clothes he had on you couldn't sell to a rag-man; in
fact, he had nothing!

I pitied the poor fellow from my heart. I was interested. I got his
father's address and sat down and wrote him a letter telling him about
his son's condition, etc. In a few days I received a letter from his
father inclosing a check for $10, and saying, "Don't let my son starve;
do all you can for him, but don't let him know his father is doing
this."

Can't you see plainly the conditions? Our Father in heaven stands ready
at all times to help, but we must do something--meet the conditions.
Tom's father was ready to forgive and take him back, but he wanted Tom
to make the surrender.

I looked after Tom to a certain extent, but I wanted him to learn his
lesson. There were times when he walked the streets and went hungry. I
corresponded with his father and told him how his son was getting along.
I got Tom a job washing dishes in a restaurant--the Bowery's main
employment--at $2.50 per week, and he stuck.

I watched him closely. He would come to the Mission nearly every night
and would stand up and testify to God's goodness. He was coming on
finely. Many's the talk we would have together about home. The tears
would come to his eyes and he would say, "Oh, if I ever go home I'll be
such a different boy! Do you think father will forgive me, Mr. Ranney?"

Well