Kenosha tribune and telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1855-1855, 1855-05-03

olutely closed the book, and few minutes
later was in Broadway, mentally censur-
ing my folly in yielding to feeling could
not resist.
'Ah, me, looking back through the eight
years that lie between that dreary night
and the present. how clearly can | discover
the great Fathers love in it all.
''What is it you want here little boy?' l
see him now just as though | had seen him
this morning, and the light from the tall
window falling on him just as it fell then,
revealing his ragged dress, and pale pinch
ed features, and the cold rain is dripping off
his thick, brown curls just as it did then. 1t
is strange, mournful picture-the dark
night in the back ground, and the little, rag
ged boy, and the brilliant lights. and the
great store with all sorts of rare confections
in front. No wonder it touched my heat.
The boy started as laid my HAND upon his
shoulder, and looked up with his wild, ca
ger, bright eyes into my face.
''Oh, SIR he said, after a moments ear
nest perusal of my features, L was thinking
if / could only carry one OF those cakes home
TO Ellen, she is very sick, and-and,' (the
little fellows lip quvered,) I'VE have not
had any thing to cat for two whole days
I Il did not speak another word, but caught
hold of the child and pulled him after me
into the store.
''Hand me down plate of those cakes,
| cried to the astonished clerk, who turned
with more than ordinary alacrity to fulfill
my request. drew the boy into small
sitting room at one end of the establishment.
Now eat these as fast as you can, and then
tell me who Ellen is
His hungry look, the strang ayidity with
which he grasped the food almost wrung
tears from my eyes.
'Ellenis my slster-my only sister since
the baby died. We are alone now. Last
month. just after they buried mother, she
grew sick. Is'pose it was because she cried
SO much and she has been growing worse
all the time
land is there nobody to take care OF her
now but you, my little fellow?
| Nobody but me-the money mother
left is all gone, you see, sir, and though l
earn a sixpence sometimes, by selling pa
pers or cleaning sidewalks, couldn't leave
Nelly. for the last week, she grew SO much
worse. o. how good these taste, cant
thank you, but want you
"Well, you need not, my boy. l want
no other thanks than your enjoyment of
them
but mayn't I take the resthome to Mel
/ y? She will be so frightened I'm gone so
| long. o, sir, if you would only go with
me-
I'm come and see you and Nelly to-
morrow said, if you will tell me where
you live, and now while you are eating the
remainder Of your cakes, III get something
Nelly will like better
Il procured basket which saw well
stocked with variety of fruits, and confec
tons, most likely to tempt the appetite of an
invalid, and adding to these all the money
| had with me, returned to the child.
go home with these to Nelly as fast as
YOU can said, 'and tell her that | will
come to see her tomorrow morning. Now
be a man, and take good care of sister Ell
! len, till then
land are all these for her?' said the boy
as his large, wondering bright eyes roamed
over the basket. And she has been moan
ing in her sleep after an orange for week
O. sir. we will pray God to bless you Tor all
this, and he will, for mother used to say he
would hold those in everlasting remem-
brance, who forgos not the widow and the
orphan, and tears Of gratitude and delight
were showering fast down the little fellow s
face as we parted
The next morning, Hattie, I received
that letter, which summoned me to my ia
Al L. Il l., e
fulfil my engagement with the orphans, in
whom had become so greatly interested
indeed the mournful circumstances which
drew me at once to the home of my child
hood Danish ed them from my mind.
| If you will look down to that time, nv
little sister, you will remember that April
was weaving her green carpets over the
meadows before we parted, and | returned
to the city to complete my studies, and then
TO enter that service in which, before my
fathers dying bed, had solemnly pledged
myself to spend all the life that God should
grant NE.
! Il had forgotten the name Of the little
boys residence, but know that l made
several attempts to discover it after my re-
turn to the city, all of which proved inef-
! fectual.
1t was the sunset of a bright day in the
early May time and even the great city
looked farcr for the sunshine that plated
the house tops with gold, and swept in
golden flakes and dimples along the pave
naent up which was passing, with some
fellowstudents to supper.
Now Marshall, remember to call for us
in time. for the lecture commences at seven
and il will certainly be crowded. called out
one of my company as We reached a corner
where our paths diverged.
i bowed my assent and adieu, and was
hurrying forward when my coat was sud
denly grasped, and an eager but timid voice
said, Please, sir, is your name Marshall?'
L turned and looked at the speaker. 1t
was little girl, apparently about ten years
of age, her long, bright curls falling in
bright, tangled mass about her small, sor
rowful looking face, while her large blue
eyes were fastened with an eagerness upon
my own.
Yes. that is my name. And what do you