Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1843-09-01
BY WIN. e. RY Their.
From the New York Christian Messenger.
THE UNEXPECTED FRIEND.

trickled down her wasted cheeks. There is
no other resource. | am too sick to work,
and you cannot, surely, see me and your lit
tie brother starve. Try and beg few shill-
ings, and perhaps by the time that is gone,
I may be better. Go, Henry my dear;
greve to send you on such an errand, but it
must be done"
The boy a noble looking little fellow of
about ten years, started up, and throwing his
arms around his mothers neck, left the
house without word. He did not hear the
groan of anguish that was uttered by his pa
rent and the door closed behind him and it
was well he did not, for his little heart was
ready to break without it, 1t was bye
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 pass
ed him, but not one seemed to look kindly on
him, and the longer he waited, the faster his
courage dwindled away, and the more diff
cult it became TO muster resolution 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 miserable,
and it is common for the poor and misera-
BILE to cry
Every body seemed in hurry, and the
poor boy was quite in despair when at last he
esped gentleman who seemed to be very
leisurely taking morning walk. He was
dressed in black, wore three-cornered hat,
and had face that was as mild and benig-
nant as an angels. Somehow, when Hen
ny looked at him, he felt all his fear vanish
at once, and instantly approached him. his
tears had been flowing so long, that his eyes
were quite red and swollen, and his voice
trembled, but that was with weakness, for
he had not eaten for twenty-four hours. As
Henry with low, faltering voice, begged
for little charity, the gentleman stopped,
and his kind heart melted with compassion
as he looked into the fair countenance of
the poor boy, and saw the deep blush which
spread all over his face, and listened to the
modest, humble tones which accompanied
his petition.
"You do not look like 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 alresh, Indeed was not
born in this condition. But the misfortunes
of my father, and the sickness of my moth
err, have driven me to the necessity now"
"Who is your fatherP' inquired the gen.
tleman still interested"
"My father was a rich merchant Of this
city, but he became bondsman for a 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 sunk into the lowest depths of
poverty My mother has, until now, mana
ged to support herself and my little brother
by her labor, and have earned what could
BIZ shoveing snow and other work that
could find to do, But night before last
mother was taken very sick, and she has
since become so much worse that'-here
the tears poured faster than ever-"I do fear
she will die. | cannot think of any way in
the world to help her. | have not had any
work 70 do for several weeks. have not
had the courage to 60 to any oil my moth
er's old acquaintance, and tell them that
she had come to need charity. l thought
you looked like a stranger, sir, and some
thing in your face overcame my shame, and
gave me courage to speak to you. o, sir,
do pity my poor motherW
The tears, and the simple and moving Ian
guage of the poor boy, touched chord in
the breast Of the stranger that was accus-
toned to frequent vibrations.
"Where does your mother live, my boy?"
said he in husky voice, sis it far from
here?'
"She lives in the last house in this street,
sir, replied Henry. "You can see it from
here, in the third block, and on the left
hand side"
"Have you sent for physician ?"
"No sir" said the boy, sorrowfully shak-
ing his head 81 had money to pay neither
for physician nor for the medicine"
"Here," said the stranger, drawing some
pieces of silver from his pocket, "here are
three dollars, take them and run immedi-
ately for aphysician."
Henrys eyes flashed with gratitude, he re-
ceved the money with a stammering and
almost inaudibe voice, but with look ofthe
warmest gratitude, and vanished,
The benevolent stranger Immediately
sought the dwelling of the sick widow. He
entered little room in which he could see
nothing but few implements of female la
bor a miserable table, an old bureau, anC
little bed which stood in one corner, oil
which the invalid lay. She appeared weak
and almost exhausted, and on the bed at he
feet sat little boy crying as if his hear
would break.
Deeply moved at this sight, the stranger
drew near the beside of the invalid, anC
feignng to be physician, inquired into th'
nature Of her disease. Tho symptoms were
explained in few words, when the widow
with deep sigh added, 80, sir, my sick