It came, and I stole my brother's boy.

I went to Boston, to Europe, back to America; lived here and there, and you know the rest.

My dear boy, I repented somewhat, and it was my intention, at some time, to restore you to your parents, but you yourself were their enemy; you crept into my heart and I could not pluck you out.

For a time the story of your mysterious disappearance filled the newspapers.

You were found in a hundred towns, year after year, and when your sensation had run its course, you became the joke of the paragraphers.