He remembered it all. His idleness
and playing truant came back in sad memories. Before Robinson and Friday
landed, their good friend the captain gave them each a new suit of
clothes.
Everything had changed. He scarcely knew the place. He was astonished
and confused by the din, hurry and bustle of a great city. Friday
seemed dazed by it all and clung to Robinson's side. The buildings
were so tall, the street cars, the carriages were different.
Everywhere there were iron machines, casting out smoke, puffing and
running about on iron rails. Robinson had never seen these.
Robinson, however, did not stop to admire; he pushed on to a certain
street and house where lived his parents at the time of his departure.
It was with difficulty that he found the place. It was now in the
heart of the city. Upon inquiry he found, after much searching, that
his father had removed his store and home to another part of the city,
his mother had died of grief for her disobedient son. Robinson was
sorely grieved at this. He had hoped to see her and tell her how sorry
he was that he had caused her so much anxiety and sorrow.
When he had found the place where his father lived he stole quietly
up to the house and opened the door. His father, now a gray-haired
man, bent with age and sorrow, was sitting in his armchair reading.
Robinson came forward, but his father did not recognize him. "Who are
you?" he said. "I am Robinson, your long-lost son.
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