I had the
same notice printed on bills, and stuck up all through the country. I
employed detectives to trace out the runaway. A month passed, and no
tidings. I was in despair. Toward the close of the fifth week, one of
the detectives struck a trail on Cape Cod, and, after a patient search,
found the young rascal living, under the assumed name of Carlo, with a
fisherman, in a little seaside hamlet. As the fishing season was a good
one, and men were scarce, the fisherman had gladly received my son as
an apprentice for his board. The novelty, excitement, and sometimes
danger of the pursuit pleased Myndert greatly, and the old fisherman
said that he was a good hand for a boy. When the detective found him,
however, he was beginning to be tired of his strange occupation (nothing
pleases him long), and he consented to come home on condition that I
would not scold him, and would give him plenty of pocket money. I had
been weak enough to authorize the making of these promises.
"The return of my prodigal son made me happy. As I had promised, I did
not reproach him, and gave him all the money that he wished.
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