The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1843-10-17
Youths Department
From tho New York Christinn Messenger
The Unexpected Friend.

nm too sick to work. and you cannot, surely, see me
and your little brother starve-Try and beg a few
shlings and perhaps by the time that is gone may
be better Go, Henry my dear; greve to send you
on such an Grand, but it must be done.'
The boy, noble looking tto fellow of about ten
years started up and throwing his arm around his
mothers neck, left the house without word lie
did not hear the goun of anguish that uttered by
his parent as the door closed behind hm and it was
well he did not, for his little henrt was ready to break
without it, il was bye-sireet in Philadelphia, and
as he walked to and fro on the side walk, he looked
first at one person aud then anotheras they passed
him. but no one seemed to look kindly on him, and
the longer he waited, the faster his courage OWN
died away, ad the more difficult became to muster
resolution to beg The tears running fast down
his cheeks, but nobody noticed them If they did,
nobody seemed TO cure; FOR although clean, Henry
looked poor and miserable, and it is common for the
poor and miserable to cry!
Every body seemed in hurry, and the poor boy
was quiet in despair when at last he espied gentle
man who seemed to be very leisury taking NOR
ming walk. lie dressed in black, wore three
cornered hat, and had [ace that as mild and
benignant as an angels Somehow, when Henry
looked at him he felt all his fear vanish at once, and
instantly approached him. His tears had been flow
ing so long that his eyes quite red and swollen,
md his voice trenbled with weakness, for he had not
eaten for twenty four hours. As Henry with low,
fateng voice, begged for little charity, the gentle
man stopped, and his kind heart melted with COM
passion as he looked into the fair of the
poor boy, and 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
toned to beg his bread, said he, kindly laying his
hand on the boys shoulder; what has driven you TO
This sep''
'Indeed,' answered Henry, his tears beginning to
flow afresh, indeed born in this condi-
lion. But the misfortune ofmy father, and the
sickness Of my mother, have driven to the neces.
sity now
'Who is Your rather?' inquired the gentleman, still
interested,
my father rich merchant of this city, but
became bondsman for friend who soon after failed
and he entirely ruined. IIc could not live after
this loss, but in month died of grefiand his death
more dreadful than any other trouble. My moth
err, my little brother, and myself, sunk into The
lowest depths of poverty. My mother has, until now
managed to support herself and my little brother by
her labor, and have earned what could by shovel
ling and other work that could find to do
But night beforelast mother taken very sick and
she has since become so much that here the
tears poured faster than ever-'I do fear she will
die. have not had any work to do for several
weeks have not had tho courage 10 30 TO any
of my mothers old acquaintances and tell them that
she had come to need charity. thought you looked
like stranger, sir, and something in your face over
come my shame, and gave courage to speak to
you. o, sir, do pity ny'poor mother
The tears, and the simple and moving language
OF the poor boy, touched chord in the breast of the
stranger, that accustomed to frequent vibra.
tions.
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 re-
piled Henry 'You i, from here, in the third
block, and on the left hand sde.'
'Have you sent for physcian''
mo SIR said the boy, sorrowfully shaking his head
Il had money to pay neither fora physician nor fo
the medicine
sHere,' said the stranger, drawing come pieces o
silver from his pocket, 'here three dollars, take
them and run Immediately for physician
Henry's eyes sparklcd with gratitude, he received
the money with stammering and almost inaudIbl
voice, but with look Of the warmest gratitude ane
vanished.
The benevolent stranger Immediately sought tn,
dwelling of the sick widow. He entered ttl,
room in which he could nothing but a few nipple
plemens Of female labor, miserable table, an ole
beaureau and little bed which stood in one cor
ner, which the invalid lay. She appeared
weak, and almost exhausted, and on the bed a
her feet sat little boy crying if his heart wou,
break.
Deeply moved at this sight, the stranger drew nea
the bedside Of the invalid. and (egning to be ply
sican inquired, into the nature of her disease. TIL
symptoms were explained in few words, when tn
widow with deep sigh added, %, sir,my sickness
has deeper cause, and one which is beyond the al
.ofphysician to euro. I mother-a wretche
mother. see my children sinking daily deeper il
misery and want, which have no means of relieving
My sickness is ofthe heart, and death alone can en-
my sorrows, but even death is dreadful to me- for
.awakes the thought Of the misery into which M
children would be plunged f. Here emotio
clicked her utterance, and the tears flowed unre
trained down her checks. But the pretended pby
scian smoke so consolin0 tn bar md ,,on;c....I