Gallipolis journal. [volume] (Gallipolis, Ohio) 1837-1919, 1861-12-12
From the child's Companion.
SARAH GOODWIN AND HER BOYS.
A TRUE STORY.

Saf3n 0OOQWlu was bbC udbC vi
poor seamstress, residing in the city o
New York. She was not wholly friend.
less; but those whom she knew, and
who would have aided her in hel
struggles, were very poor, and
could not. So she, a widow, and foui
BOYS from the ages of four and nine
years struggled through the winters
cold and summers heat, providing her
little family with bread, and that was
all. Her boys were good children, al
ways in their home after nightfall, 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 weary illness she
had no other attendance save the occa-
sional help of a neighbor, and the con-
slant aid of her poor little boys. 1t
was touching to behold their kind ways
and to hear their gentle words. Every
body said they would be blessed in
coming years. for their thoughtful love
towards their mother.
The widow recovered; but it was
now the middle of winter, and their lit
tie stock OF fuel was gone. As soon as
her strength permitted, she walked
through the cold of a cherries day, to
the shop of her employer, and told
him her pitiful story. But he said it
was hard times: her illness had made
room for others as destitute as herself,
and they had not one stitch Of work TO
give her. With q sinking heart, but
praying to keep her courage up, the
poor woman toiled on from shop to
shop, until it became late; and. with
tears and darkness, she could hardly
see her way homee
IF Mr.. Hart hai hihpself been there
she said to herself, bending to the
strong wind, and drawing her scanty
shawl closer about her form, 1 know
he would have given me work.
As she whispered tkls through her
chattering teeth, a tall tleman passed
by her; and as he di b, something
fell to the sidewalk, abS,Ssy upon the
crusted snow. Sarah Sbsed. She
had heard the noise made by the little
packet, and strange impression led to
her search for it. Oh! Joy! it was a
purse, heavy and filed to the brim,
yellow and shining lay the gold within,
as she carried it to lighted window.
--ss-8ffy pvur boys, they shall7want 4ecd
no more she cried; this is gold! l
think that God must have put it in my
way, for he saw l was in despair
Suddenly like fash of lightning,
the thought occurred to Sarah, that not
one cent of the treasure was honestly
hers. But a moment she fingered,
pressing the money with her numbed
fingers, the sorrowful tears chasing
down her thin cheek; then starting for
ward to find the owner OF the purse,
she walked hurriedly up the street,
fearful that the temptation, should she
arrive at her poor room and see her
famishing children, might prove too
strong for her honesty.
Opposite the great hotel, as she stood
thinking which way to take, she saw
the stranger enter. She knew him by
the long hair which curled to his shoul-
ders, and, timidly crossing the street,
she made her way into the hall, and
there bewildered by the light, knew not
what to say, till twice asked by the SER
want what she wanted. Of course,
she could do no more than describe the
stranger by his tall stature and flowing
hair. But he had already gone out
again; she must call on the morrow,
they said, and ask for Mr.. Ashcraft.
The next morning. having eaten
nothing. (for she could not touch a
fsrthing of the gold she was admitted
into the room where sat the stranger.
He arose as she entered, and gazed
with curious air, till she presented the
purse. Then he started with pleased
surprise. laid down his paper, took the
gold and carefully counted it over.
1t is all safe,' he said; you have
not taken -
Not one piece, SIR she cried eager
ly trembling as she spoke.
You seem poor,' said the stranger.
4 am poor,' she replied.
Got family, suppose?'
-Four little boys, sir; I am a widow
Hump! so l suppose-that is the
old story
Ask Mr.. Hart, the tailor cried the
widow. stepping forward little; 'he
knows me well-he knows that though
I am poor, l am honest
A bright red spot burned on her
cheeks as she spoke, and she forced
back the tears.
Now confess said the stranger, RI
sing and walking to and fro before the
fire; tell me, did you expect a very
large reward for this?
4 did think, perhaps and she
turned with quivering lips to the door.
Stop, stop!' cried the stranger; you
know you would never have returned
the purse. had you not expected to be
well paid for it.
'Sirr said the widow, her voice ri
sing beyond its usual tone, and her thin
form erect.
The stranger paused, holding the
purse in his hand; then drawing forth a
small coin, offered it to her.
Fora moment she drew back; then,
remembering that her poor boys were
hungry at home, and in bed because
there was no FIRE, she burst into tears
an she took IL sarinnr tThic Mill hnu