The constitutional union., 1861-02-15
NUMBER IA.
"DON'T CRY, TOMAY."
BY ]. BOMBER. JR.

BY J. bOMbkk,
 Don't cry, Tommy There's two pieces of bread at home: you may have one and will have the other, and then we'll go to sleep"
 Such, my friends, were the words of little barefooted boy to his younger brother, as they tearfully hied past me, one bleak day in chill November, 18-. The speaker was 9 lad of apparently eight summers. Upon his brow, manly beyond his ears, there dwelt an unmis- takable indication of better days, and gentle birth. Not trace of squalid misery was there, such as greets the eye at every turn among this worlds poor. A tidy little jacket, with remnents of embroidery yet visible sadly patched and mended, 'tis true-covered his ght shoulders while threadbare and faded pair of trowsers of the same material encompassed his lower extremities. HisyAead was surmounted by what was once jaunty little cap; but yet he was, as before re- marked, barefooted-ay, barefooted-upon a chill November mornl
 "Don't cry, Tommy~ The words were spoken with cheerful, yet fearful tenderness; and the little fellow gently wound his arm around his companions slender neck, as he whispered those words of childish consolation. Something in the tones of that voice Cor was it the guardian angel of that tiny pair who whispered in my ear } startled me from my reverie and looked anxiously after the re- ceding figures?
 "Poor child P I unused; "and has it come to this? Not always was it sol"
 Anon my mind pictured to its vision grace ful vine-covered cottage with beautiful sur- roundings while on the grass-plot in front gamboled two blooming boys, in all the play tul glee of innocent childhood, overlooked by two as fond parents as ever the impartial sun shone upon in the course of his endless jour- neyings.
 "Don't cry, Tommyp My God it must be-the remembrance Is too unmistakable, though changed-alas so changed They were the orphan children of the friend of my boyhood-the friend who, two years agone, breathed his last in my arms, far, far away, upon the arid plains leading to the modern Fl Dorado!
 "Poor Toms a coldw His boneslie bleach ing in foreign land, and his wife and chil. dren, too frail to brave the storms of Life are now thrown upon the cold charities of the world-shipwrecked wanderers over the dis nal ocean of remorseless Poverty Ny God!
 my God 1t must not be
 "Don't cry, Tommy" The words rang in my ears like the echoes of despair, and welled up to my very soul with mysterious cadence, which at once demanded my pity and com mseration. What pathos was there! What tenderness What spirit of manliness was exhibited by those simple words, emanating from childhoods bosom! Was I dreaming? No, no awake and alive to the whisperings of mans better nature. A pale figure seemed
 to start up before me and those suffering lit- tie ones, bending on its melancholy eyes, and pression of sorrow and reproof! ofmy departed tomb, 1t seemed to whisper:
 "Bomber! as thou lowest me-leave them not to suffer l'
 Peace to thy name, my friend henceforth thy children no more shall cry for bread. < Don't cry, Tommy~ Ye, to whom the morn brings happiness, and evening peace
 to whom Comfort is freside guest, and Sor-
 row as a poor relation, is there no forlorn
 brotherman hailing you by the wayside of Life, demanding and claiming your kind sympathy
 Turn not the deaf ear, O pampered child of
 Luxury !-Fortune is fckle goddess Thou hast cherub child, living companion be- heath thy palatial manslon-death may meet thee at thy threshold, demanding thy wife as
 his victim-riches may take wings and fly
 away--the morrow's sun may find thy loved one begging of the world for breadl Hast thou no mite wherewith to dry the mourners tears? None
 "Dont cry, Tommyp Sweet words of | ol, ho,, fha of A T. : versity beat thick and fast against the shrink ing life-pilgrim's breast, when Gloom en- : shrouds his soul within its sombre mantle; when no cheering voice of Friendship, no brightsome smile of Sympathy, no tender hand of Charity IS extended to raise him from the Slough of Despond, then,-Oh! then it is, that his heart craves those things which the
 world is 10th to bestow-then it is that he looks to the high, high heavens and wonder
 ing asks if they, too, like cold humanity, are
 also devoid of pity
 "Don't cry, Tommy" The world is large -" the poor ye have always with you" Hush! how howl the bleak winds tonight! How fercely comes down the storm! Thought fully you gaze into the sparkling grate, and 5 mentally thank the gods that against your heart and your abode the storm-fend may wage in vain warfare. List! Hearest thou no vail amid the lullings of the tempest? Go - forth into the night, 0 child of Ease and Comfort! there is work for thee adown your narrow court Want, grim Want, with sunk en cheek and skeleton finger, sits by a bedside in wonder dismal attic, holding in her fell en- brace, form that was once man like thee proud, wealthy beautiful! Fortune frowned, 5 and here is he Hast thou no words of cheer, : no well-fled purse, no golden guinea, no homely penny, even, wherewith to dispeil Gloom from the poor mans pallet? None 7 s Then God pity thee! And beware lest Ad. versity should beset thy pathway--triends and fortune flee alike away from thy hearthstone, s and thou be left to howl thy impotent sorrow to the deaf, cold world, with no kindly tongue to whisper in thy despairing ear: Don't cry, Tommy"
 HAppINEss.-Tillotson truly says that man counts happiness in thousand shapes and the l. faster he follows it, the swifter it flies from
 him. Almost everything premises happiness