The Smoky Hill and Republican union. [volume] (Junction City, Kan.) 1861-1864, 1861-12-05
SARAH GOODWIN AND HER BOYS.
Sarah Goodwin was the name of a


seamstress, residing in the city Of New
York. She was not wholly friendless; but
those whom she knew, and who would have
aided her in her struggles, were very poor
and could not. So she, widow, rnd tour
boys from the ages of four to nine years,
struggled through the winters cold and
summers heat, providing her little family
with bead, and that was all. Her boys
were good children, always 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 i'll
ness she had no other attendance, save the
occasional halp Of a neighbor, than the con
slant aid of her little boys. 1t was touch
ing to behold their kind ways, and to hear
their gentle words. Everybody said that
they would be blessed in coming years tor
their thoughtful love towards their mother.
The widow recovered, but it was now
the middle of winter, and their little stock
of fuel vas almost gone. As soon as her
strength permitted she walked through the
cold Of cherries day to the shop of her
employer, and told him her pitiful story.
But lie 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 a sinking heart,
but praying to keep her courage up, the
poor woman toiled on from shop to shop
until it became late; and, what with tears
and darkness, she could hardly see her way
home
off Mr.. Hart had himself been there"
she said to herself, bending to the strong
wind, and drawing her scanty shawl c. Ger
about her form, Il know he would have
given me work"
As she whispered thus through her chat
tering teeth, a tall gentleman passed by
her; and as he did SO, something fell on
the sidewalk, and lay upon the crusted
snow. Sarah paused. She had heard the
noise made by the little packet, and a
strange impression led her to search for it.
Oh, JOY! it was a purse heavy and filled to
the brin; yellow and shining lay the gold
within, as she carried it toward lighted
window.
"My poor boys, they shall want food no
MORE" she cried; "this is gold | think
that God must have put it in my way, for
he saw l was in despair"
Suddenly, like a fash of lightning, the
though 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 checks; then,
starting forward to find the owner of the
purse, she walked hurriedly up the street,
fearing that the temptation, should she
arrive at her poor room and see her famish,
ing children, might prove too strong for hel
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 shoulders, 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 servant 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, anC
ask for Mr.. Ashcraft
The Eext morning, having eaten nothing
(for she could not touch farthing of ths
gold,) she was admitted into the room
where sat the stranger. He arose as sh,
entered, aud gazed with a curious air, til
she presented the purse. Then he started
with pleased surprise, laid down his paper
took the gold, and carefully counted it over
alt is all safe" be said; "you have no
taken"
'Not one peice, sir" she cried eagerly
trembling as she spoke.
I" You seem poor" said the stranger.
81 am poor" she replied.
"Got family, I suppose?'
-Four little boys, sir; am a widow"
Humph! SO | suppose; that is The oil,
story"
"Ask Mr.. Hart, the tailor" cried Tia
widow, stepping forward little; she know
me well; he knows that though am poor
am honest"
A bright red spot burned on her cheek
as she spoke, and she forced back the tear:
"Now confess" said the stranger, risin
and walking to and fro before the fire
"tell me, did You not expect very larg
reward for this ~
81 did think, perhaps" and she turne
with quiyering lips to the door.
"Stop, stop" cried the stranger; "ve
know you would not have returned the purs
had you not expected to be well paid for it.
"Sir !" said the widow, her voice risin
beyond its usual tone, and her thin forl
erect.
The stran ger paused, holding the purs
he boul