Litchfield enquirer. [volume] (Litchfield, Conn.) 1829-current, 1843-11-09
From the Philadelphia Chronicle.
THE WIDOWS AND ORPHANS
BENEFACTOR.

The WIDOWS AND ORPHANS
BENEFACTOR.
at must be done nv child" said the poor
widow, wiping away the tears which slowly
trickled down her wasted checks. "There
is no other resource. am too sick to work
and you cannot, surely, see me and your
| little brothers slarve. Try, and beg few
shilings, and. perhaps, by the time that is
gone, may be better. Co. Henry my dear;
grieve to send you on such an errand, but
it must be done.''
The boy, noble looking fellow Of about
ten years. started up and throwing his arms
around his mothers neck, left the house with
out a word. He did not hear the groan of
anguish that was uttered by his parent as he
closed the door behind him; anc it was we'll
that he did not; for his little heart was
ready to break without it. TWAS n by-street
| in Philadelphia, and, as he walked TO and
fro, on the sidewalk, he looked first at one
person and then at another, as they passed
him, but no one looked kindly on him; and
the longer he waited, the faster his courage
dwindled away, and the more difficult it be-
came to beg. The tears were running fast
down his cheeks, but nobody noticed them
or, if they did, nobody seemed to care for,
although clean, Henry looked poor and mis-
cradle, and it is common for the poor and
miserable 10 cry.
| Every body seemed in hurry, and the
poor boy was quite in despair, when at last
he espied gentleman who seemed to be
very leisurely taking walk. He was
dressed in black, wore three cornered hat,
and face that was as mild and benignant
| as an angels. Somehow. when Henry
looked Mt him, he felt all his fears vanish at
once, and instantly approached him. His
tears had been flowing so long, that his
InV itn VoA hiS
voice trembled bu, that was with weakness,
for he had not eaten anything for twenty
four hours. AS Henry, with low faltering
voice, begged for little charity, the gentle
man stopped, and his kind heart melted
| with compassion as he looked into the fair
cOuntenance Of the boy, and saw the deep
blush which overspread his face, and listen
ed 10 the modest, humble tones which nc.
companied his petition.
"You do not look like q boy that has been
| accustomed to beg his Bread" said he, kind
ly laying his hand on the boys shoulder
" what has driven you to this step!"
"Indeed," answered Henry, his tears be-
ginning to flow afresh, "indeed was not
born in this condition. But the mistor-
tunes of my father, and the sickness OF
my mother, have driven Inc 10 the necessity
now"
"Who is your father :" inquired the gen.
lleman, still more interested.
"My father was rich merchant of this
city; but he became bondsman for friend,
who soon after failed, and he was entirely
ruined. He could not live after this loss,and
in one month he died of grief, and his death
was more dreadful than any other trouble.
My mother, my little brother, and myself,
soon suik into the lowest depths of poverty.
| My mother has, until now, managed TO sup.
| s,,,l 10 th.,n hnr 10
Dor, and | have earned what / could by
shoveling snow and other work could find
to do. But night before last, mother was ta-
ken very sick, and she has since become so
much worse that here the tears poured
faster than ever" do fear she will die
| cannot think OF any way in the world to
help her. have not had any work to do
for several weeks. have not the courage
to 60 10 any of my mothers old acquaintan-
ces, and tell them she had come 10 need
charity. thought you looked like stran-
ger, sir, and something in your tace over
come my shame, and gave me the courage
to speak 10 you. ., Sir, do pity my poor
mother !"
The tears, and the simple and touching
language of the poor boy. touched q chord
in the breast of the stranger. that was accus-
toned to frequent vibrations.
"Where does your mother live my boy ~
said he in u husky voice, is it far from
here!''
"She lives in the last house in this street,
SIR" replied Henry. you can SIZE it from
here, in the third block on the left.hand
side"
"Have you sent for physician Z"
"No sir" said the boy sorrowfully, shak-
ing his head. 81 had no money 10 pay eli.
Their for physician or the medicine"
"Here," said the stranger, drawing some
pieces of silver from his pocket, "here are
three dollars, take them and run for ply
sician."
Henry's eye flashed with grat,ude-he
received the money with n slammering aud
almost inaudible voice, but with u look of
the warmest gratitude, and vanished.
The benevolent stranger Immediately
sought the dwelling Of the sick widow. He
entered little room, in which he could sec
nothing but few implements OF female la.
Dor, a miserable table, an old bureau, and a
little bed which stood in corner. ON which
the invalid lay. She appeared weak. aud
almost exhausted and on the bed, nj her terl
sat little boy, crying as if his heart would
break.
Deeply moved at this sight, the stranger
drew near The bedside of the invalid. and,
teigning TO be physician, inquired into the
nature Of her disease. The symptoms were |
explained in q very few words, when the
widow with deep sigh added ." o, sir. my
sickness has deeper cause. and one which |,
is beyond the art of physician TO cure. l
am u mother-a wretched mother. | see
my children sinking daily deeper in misery
and want, which have no means of relieve.
ing. Nv sickness is of the heart, and death