Monmouth weekly herald. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1854-1860, 1857-07-30
OLE famiIg Girtlt,
SARAH GOODWIN
HE r BOY S


poor and could not. So she a widow with
four boys, from the ages of four to nine
years, struggled through winters cold,
and summers heat, providing her little
family with bread, and that was ALL
Meat and Injuries were denied Sarah
Goodwin and her boys. The latter were
good children, always in their home after
night fall, and giving their mother every
cent of their little earnings as often as
they found work to do.
At last the mother fell sick, and through
a weary Illness she had no attendance,
save the occasional help of a neighbor and
the constant help of her little boys. They
were never from her side, and it was
touching to behold their sympathy, their
gentle ministrations; everybody prophe-
sled that they would be blessed in coming
years, for their thoughtful kindness to
their mother.
The widow recovered, but it was now
| the heart of bitter winter, and their lit
tleSstock Of fuel was nearly gone. AS
soon as her strength permitted, she walk
ed through the cold one cherries day to
the shop Of her employer, and told him
her pitiful story. But it was hard times,
her illness had made rooms for others as
destitute as herself; in fine they had not
one stitch of work to give her. With a
sinking heart, but praying to keep her
courage up, the poor woman toiled from
shop to shop, until it became late, and
with her tears and the darkness she could
hardly see her way home.
off Mr.. Hart himself had been there"
she soliloquized, bending to the strong
wind, and drawing her scanty shawl about
her form, I know he would have given me
work.
AS she whispered thus through her
chattering teeth tall man, with a long
grey beard, passed by her, and as he did
so, something fell to the sidewalk, and
lay upon the crusted snow. Sarah paused
she had heard the noise made By the lit
| tie article and mysterious impression
led her to search for it. O, joy! it was a
purse heavy and filled to the brim; yellow
and shining lay the gold withia its strong
meshes, as she carried it toward lighted
window.
my poor boys, they shall want food
no MORE" she calculated fervently; "tbis
is gold; God put it in my way; he saw |
was despairing."
Suddenly, like fash oflightning it &C
Cured to Sarah that not one cent of the
newly found treasure was honestly hers.
But moment she fingered, pressing the
money with her numbed fingers, the sor-
lrowful tears coursing down her thin
cheeks, then starting forward to find the
owner of the purse, she walked hurriedly
up the street, fearful that the temptation,
should she arrive at her room and see her
hungry children might prove too strong
for her integrity.
Opposite the great hotel, as she stood
hesitating which way to take, she saw the
stranger enter, and timidly crossing the
street, she made her way into the billiard
hall, and there bewildered by the light
knew not what to say until twice asked
| bv servant what she wanted. OF course
she could do more than to describe him.
| by his tall stature and strange beard
But he had already gone out again she
must call tomorrow, they said, and ask
| for Mr.. Ashcroft.
The next morning, having eaten moth.
| for size could not touch farthing of the
gold, she was admitted into tue room
where sat the stranger. He arose as she
entered, and gazed with curious air I'M
til she presented the curse. Then he
started with pleased surprise. laid down
the paper, took the gold and counted ii
over carefully.
Tits all safe," he said, you have not
taken
mot one piece, sir,' she said eagerly,
trembling as she spoke.
You seem poor" remarked the stran-
ger carelessy.
II am poor"
Got a family, l supposed"
Four little boys, sir, I am widow"
was the reply.
Humph, humph, SO suppose that's
the old story"
Ask Mr.. Hart the tailor" said she
stepping forward little; he knows if /
am poor I am honest"
A bright red spot burned on her cheeks
as she spoke, and she was forced to tears,
Now confess said the stranger,
walking to and fro before the fire, " con
TESS that you expected large reward for
this"
I did think, perhaps, and she turned
with quivering lips to the door.
Stop, stop" said the stranger, "you
know you would never have returned the
Purse had you not been expected to be
paid for it."
Sirr' said the widow, her tone indig-
mart, her thin form towering, and oh, the
whitening rebuke in her voice and man
ner.
| The stranger paused, holding the purse
in bis hand, then drawing forth the small
est possible coin that it contained, he OF
fered it to her.
| For moment she drew back, but then
remembering that her poor boys were
hungry at home, and in bed because there
was no fire, she burst into tears as she
took it saying:
This will buy bread for my poor chill
dren," and hurrying away she buried the
bitterness of that morning in her own
| heart.
1t was four o'clock on the same night
Sarah Goodwin sat by scanty fire, bust
| ly engaged in sewing patches on the very
poor clothes of her children.
Run to the door, Jimmy" she said to
the eldest, as loud knock was heard.
"Oh, mother he cried, returning, a