The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1848-08-16
From the N. Y. Christian Messenger.
THE UNEXPECTED FRIEND.

led down her wasted checks. "There is ne
other resource. am too sick to work, anC
you cannot, surely, see me and your little
brother starve. Try and beg few shillings
and perhaps by the time that is gone, may
be better. Go, Henry, my dear; | grieve t.
send you on such an errand, but it must b
done"
The boy, noble looking little fellow O.
about ten years, started up, and throwing his
arms around his mothers neck, left the house
without a word. He did not hear the groan
of anguish that was uttered by his parent, as
the door closed behind him and it was well
he did not, for his little heart was ready to
break without it. 1t was a bye street in Phil
adelphia, and as he walked the street to and
fro on the sidewalk, he looked first at one
person and then at another, as they passed
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, no.
body 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 in hurry, and the
poor boy seemed quite in despair when at
last he spied gentleman who seemed to be
very lelsurely taking morning walk. He
was dressed in black, wore a three-cornered
hat, and had face that was mild and benig-
nant as an ngels.-Somehow, when Henry
looked at him, he felt all his fear vanish at
once, and instantly approached him. His
tears had boon flowing so long, that his eyes
were quite red and swollen, and his voice
tremblcd, but that was with weakness, for he
had not eaten for twenty-four hours. As
Henry with a low, faltering voice, begged for
little charity, the gentleman stopped, and
his kind heart melted with compassion, as he
looked upon the fair countenance of the poor
young boy, and saw the deep blush that spread
all over his face, and listened to the modest,
humble tones which accompanied his petit
ton.
"You do not look like boy that has been
accustomed 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 be-
ginning to flow afresh, "indeed I was not
born in this condition. But the misfortunes
of my father, and sickness of my mother, have
driven me to the necessity now"
"Who is your father ?" inquired the gen.
t!eman with still more interest
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 terrible than any other trou-
bic. My mother my little brother, and my
self, soon sunk into the lowest depths of pow
crty. My mother has, until now, managed
to support herself and my little brother by
her labor, and / have earned what could by
shovclling 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"-here the tears poured faster
than ever-"T do fear she will die. I can
not think of any way in the world to help
her. l have not had any work to do for sew
eral weeks. have not had the courage to
90 to any of my mothers old acquaintance,
and tell them that she had come TO need and
charity. I thought you looked like stran-
ger, sir, and something in your face overcame
my shame, and gave me courage to speak to
you. Oh, sir, do pity my poor motherr'
The tears and the simple moving language
of the poor boy, touched a chord in the stran-
ger that was accustomed to vibrations.
Where does your mother live, my boy ?"
said he in husky voice; dis it far from
here ?"
She lives in the last house in this street,
sir,' replied Henry. You can sec it from
here, in the third block, and on the left hand
side"
"Have you sent for a physician %
" No sir" said the boy, sorrowfully shaking
his head. ~ have no money to pay either
for a physician, or the medicine"
Here, said the stranger, drawing some
pieces of silver from his pocket, "here are
three dollars; take them and run Immediate
ly for physician"
Henry's eyes flashed with gratitude; he re-
ceived the money with stammering and in
audible voice, but with look of the warmest
gratitude, and vanished.
The bcnignant stranger Immediately sought
the dwelling of the sick widow. He entered
a little room in which he could see nothing
but few implements of female labor, a mis-
cradle table, an old bureau, and little bed
which stood in one corner, on which the in
valid lay. She appeared weak, and almost
exhausted, and in her bed, at her feet, sat
little boy, crying as if his heart would break.
Deeply moved at the sight, the stranger
drew near the bedside of the invalid, and
feigning to be physician, inquired into the
nature of her disease. The symptoms were
explained in few words, when the widow
with deep sigh, added, " o sir, my sickness
has deeper cause, and one which is beyond
the art of the physician to cure. | am
mother-a wretched mother / see my chill
dren sinking daily, deeper and deeper in mis-
cry and want which have no means of re-
ieving. My sickness is of the heart, and
death alone can end my sorrows, but even
death is dreadful for me, for it awakens the
thought of misery into which my children
would be plunged if"
Her emotion choked her utterance, and the
tears flowed unrestrained down her cheeks.
But the pretended physician spoke so consol-
ingly to her, and manifested so warm SYM
pathy for her condition, that the heart of the
woman throbbed with pleasure that was I'M
wonted.