“At last I’m wise, I will arise, and seek my father’s shack;” thus muttered low the ancient bo, and then he hit the track. From dwellings rude he’d oft been shooed, been chased by farmers’ dogs; this poor old scout, all down and out, had herded with the hogs. His heart was wrong; it took him long to recognize the truth, that there’s a glad and smiling dad for each repentant youth. “I will arise, doggone my eyes,” the prodigal observed, “and try to strike the old straight pike from which I idly swerved.” The father saw, while baling straw, the truant, sore and lamed; he whooped with joy; “my swaybacked boy, you’re welcome!” he exclaimed. Midst glee and mirth two dollars’ worth of fireworks then were burned; “we’ll kill a cow,” cried father, “now that Reuben has returned!” His sisters sang, the farmhouse rang with glee till rafters split, his mother sighed with hope and pride, his granny had a fit. And it’s today the same old way, the lamp doth nightly burn, to guide you home, O, boys who roam, if you will but return.
Describe what you're looking for in as much detail as you'd like.
Our AI reads your request and finds the best matching books for you.
Popular searches:
Join 2 million readers and get unlimited free ebooks