Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1861-04-24
AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND.

"It must be my child,'' said the poor widow,
wping away the tears which slowly trckIed
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 few shillings, and per-
haps by the time that is gone may be better
Go, Henry, my dear, grieve to send you on
such errand: but it must be done.'
The boy, noble locking little fellow of a.
bout ten 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 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
burst without it. 1t was in a by street in Phil
adephia, and as he walked to and fro on the
sidewalk, 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
muster courage to beg. The tears were run
ming fast down his cheeks, but nobody no.
ticed 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 SEEM
ed in hurry, and the poor boy quite in
despair, when at last he espied gentleman
who seemed to be very leisurely taking morn
ing walk. He was dressed in black, wore
tnree-cOrnereu nat, ana Dau q lace tnat was as
mild as an angels. Somehow, when Henry
looked at him he felt all fear vanish at once.
His tears had been flowing so long that his
eyes were quite red and swollen, and his voice
trembled-but that was with weakness, for he
had not eaten for twenty four hours. As Hen
ry, with low, falterng voice, begged for
little charity, the gentleman stopped, and his
kind heart melted with compassion as he look
ed inte the fair countenance of the poor boy,
nd fha Sh yyh ich
face, and listened to the modest, humble tones
which accompanied his petition.
"You do not look like boy that has been
accustomed to beg for his bread,'' said he,
kindly laying his hand on the boys shoulder;
"what has driven you to this step?''
s'lndeed," answered Henry, his tears be-
ginning TO flow afreSh, 'tindeed, was not
born in this condition. But the misfortune of
my father, and the sickness of my mother,
have driven me to the necessity now.''
s'Who is your father" inquired the gentle
man, still more interested.
sMy father was a rich merchant of this city,
but he became bondsman for friend, who
soon after failed, and he was entirely ruined.
He could not live long after this loss, and in
month he died of grief, and his death was
more dreadful than any of our trouble. My
mother, my little brother, and myself sunk in-
to the lowest depths of poverty. My mother
has, until now, managed to support herself
and my little brother by her labor, and have
earned what could by shovelling 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 that''-
here the tears flowed faster than ever-sthat
l do fear she will die. 1 cannot think of any
way in the world to help her. l have not had
any work for several weeks. l have not had
the courage to go to any of my mothers old
acquantances, and tell them that she had
come to need charity. thought you looked
like stranger, sir, and something in your
face overcame my shame and gave me cour-
age to speak to you. Oh, sir, do pity my
poor mother.''
The tears, and the simple and moving Ian
guage of the poor boy, touched a chord in the
breast of the stranger that was accustomed to
frequent vibrations.
"Where does your mother live, my boy ?''
said he, in husky voice; sis it far from here =
''She lives in the last house on this street,
slr," replied Henry. ssYou can see it from
hele,ln the Sd block and on the left hand side."
"haye you sent for physician 70
NO, Sir" said the boy, sorrowfuily sSak-
.ne his head. 81 had no money to pay either
iot physician or for medicine"
mere, said the stranger. drawing some
pieces OF silver from his pocket, sshere are
,htee dollars, take them, and run Immediate
" Ior physician.''
o eyes Hashed Win gr6tltuue-ne re-
ee"ea the money with a stammering and al
uiost inaudible voice, but with look of the
Y"arinest gratitude he vanished. The benevo-
,s ,en' stranger instantly sought the dwelling Of
,rs: .pe SICK widow. He entered little room in
~nich ne could see nothing but few imple-
aehtS OF female labor-a miserable table, and
an Ola buteau, and a little bed which stood in
oae corner, on which the invalid lay. She
appeared weak and almost exhausted-and on
:, .e oed at her feet sat little boy, crying as
g. ns heart would break. Deeply moved at
or,t ts'ght, the stranger Drew near the bedside
inoas "e invalid, and feigning to be a physician,
'1auirsa into the nature of her disease. Tho