Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1859-11-30
o. boiee Ytteratnrt
THE UNExPECrED FRIEND,

Ir must be my child = said the poor
widow, wiping away the tears which slow
ly trickled down her wasted cheeks
there is no other resource. ain too
sick to work, and you cannot surely see
me and your little brother starve. Try
and beg few shillings, and by the time
that is gone, may be better. Go, Hens
ry, my dear; grieve to send you on such
an errand, but it must be DONE
The boy, a noble looking little 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 groan of anguish that was uttered
by his parent, as the door closed behind
him; and it was well that he did not, for
his little heart was ready to break without
it. 1t was a by-street in Philadelphia and
as he walked thesstrect tc-and fro on the
sidewalk, he looked first at one person,
then at another, as they passed him, but
no one seemed to look kindly on him and
the longer he waiter the fastest his courage
dwindled away, and the more difficult it
was to muster courage 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.
Everybody seemed in hurry, and the
poor boy seemed quite in despair, when at
last he spied gentleman who seemed to
| be very leisurely taking morning walk.
He vas dressed in black, wore three-cor-
nered hat, and had face that was mild
r and benignant as an angels. Somehow,
when Henry looked at him, he felt all his
: fears vanish at once, and instantly ap-
t preached him. His tears had been fow-
| ing so long, that his eyes were quite red
: and swollen, and his voice trembled, but
that was with weakness for he had not
G eaten for twenty hours. As Henry
e with a low, faltering voice begged for .
little charity, the gentleman stopped, and
: his kind heart melted with compassion, a.
o he looked upon the fair eountenance of the
0 poor young boy, and saw the deep frlsf
4 that spread over his face, listened to tn,
l. modest, humble tones which accompanied
: his petition.
n You do not look like boy that ha
l. been accustomed to beg his bread,' sait
l. he kindly, laying his hand on the boy
70 shoulder, what has driven you to this step
IT Indeed answered Henry, his tears be
10 ginning to flow afresh, indeed, l was no
y born in this condition. But the misfol
le tunes Of my father and the sickness of m
Y, mother, have driven me to the necessit
D. now.'
lie who is your father Z inquired the ger
he tleman with still more interest.
,y MY father was rich merchant of thi
lefty, but he became bondsman for frien
i'd who sosn after failed, and he was entireI
be lruined. He could not live after this los
w and in one month he died of grief, an
m his death was more terrible than any trou
st. ile My mosher, my little brother and m
ed lself soon sunk into the lowest depths
'ly poverty. My mother has, until now, ma
'ut aged to support herselfand my little brot
ed er by her labor, and have earned what
10 could by shoveling snow, and other wo
an that | could find to do. But night befo
ial last, mother was taken very sick, and s
,pe has since become SO much worse'-ht
he tthe tears poured faster shan evcr-T