Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1844-04-05
AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND.

1t must be, my childm said the poor widow,
wiping away the tears which slowly tricked down
her wasted cheeks. "There is no other resource
am too sick TO work, and you cannot surely, see
me and your little brother starve. Try and beg a
few shillings and perhaps by the time that is gone
may be better. Go Henry, my dear-I grieye TO
send you on such errand, but it must be dons''
The boy, noble looking little fellow of aboutten
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 uttered
by his parent the door closed behind him and it
was well that he did not, for his little heart was
ready to burst without it.
1t was a by street, in Philadelphia and, he
walked to and fro the walk, he looked first
at one person. and then at another, as they passed
him, but no one seemed to look kindly on him. and
the longer he waited the faster his courage dwin-
died away, and the more difficult it became to mus
ter 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 miserable to cry!
Every body seemed i'll hurry, and the poor boy
was quite in despair when at last he espied gen.
tleman who seemed to be very leisurely taking
morning walk. He dressed in black wore
three cornered hat, and had face that was as mild
and benignant angels. Somehow, when
Henry looked up at him. he felt all his fears vanish
at once, and instantly approached him. His tears
red, and swollen and his voice trembled- but that
was with weakness, for he had not eaten for twen-
ty -four hours As Henry, with a low, faltering
voice, begged for little charity the gentleman
stopped, and his kind heart melted with compass,
sion he looked into the fair countenance of the
poor boy, and saw the deep blush which spread
over his face, and listened to the modest, humble
tones, which accompanied his petition.
"You do not look like boy that has been &C
customed to beg his Bread" said he, kindly laying
his hand on the boys shoulder, what has driven
you to this step?"
"Indeed," answered Henry, his tears beginning
to flow afresh, indeed, was not born in this con
dition But the misortunes of my father, and the
sickness of my mother, have driven me to the ne
cessty now"
"Who is your father ?" inquired the gentleman
es still more interested.
ID "My father was a rich merchant of this city
but he became bondsman for a friend, who soon af
: ter failed and he was entirely ruined. He coulC
not live long after tins loss, and in one month HI
died of grief, and his death more dreadful thai
any of our trouble. My mother, my little brother
and myself, sunk into the lowest depts of pov
erty. My mother has until now, managed to sup
port herself, and my little BROTHER by her labor an
er have earned what could by shovelling snow
IN and other work that could find to do. But, nigh
IT. before last mother was taken sick, aud she ha
lg since become so much worse that"-here the tear
It's flowed faster than ever" that do fear, she vii
- die. | cannot think of any way in the world I
er help her. | have not had any work for severa
d ; weeks | have not had the courage to go to an
lie. of my mothers old acquaintances and tell theI
r. that she has come TO need charity. thought yo
a looked like stranger, sir, and something in you
] face overcame my shame, and gave me courage
ny speak to you. o, sir, do pity my poor mother?"
Ill The tears and the simple and moving languag
be of the poor boy touched chord in the breast
er the stranger that was accustomed to frequent VI