The south winds whistled through the woods, as the waters dashed
against the banks, as rapid fire in the pent furnace roars.
This brought him to remember while alone, that he quietly left behind
the hospitality of a father's house, and gladly entered the world,
with higher hopes than are often realized. But as he journeyed onward,
he was mindful of the advice of his father, who had often looked
sadly on the ground when tears of cruelly deceived hope moistened
his eye. Elfonzo had been somewhat of a dutiful son; yet fond
of the amusements of life--had been in distant lands--had enjoyed
the pleasure of the world and had frequently returned to the scenes
of his boyhood, almost destitute of many of the comforts of life.
In this condition, he would frequently say to his father, "Have I
offended you, that you look upon me as a stranger, and frown upon
me with stinging looks? Will you not favor me with the sound of
your voice? If I have trampled upon your veneration, or have spread
a humid veil of darkness around your expectations, send me back into
the world where no heart beats for me--where the foot of man has
never yet trod; but give me at least one kind word--allow me to come
into the presence sometimes of thy winter-worn locks." "Forbid it,
Heaven, that I should be angry with thee," answered the father,
"my son, and yet I send thee back to the children of the world
--to the cold charity of the combat, and to a land of victory.
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