The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1861-01-31
An Unexpected Friend.
A BEAUTIFUL TALE.

sIt must be, my child, SAID the poor
widow, wiping away the tears which slow
lytrickled down her wasted cheek. "There
is no other resource 1 am too sick to
work, and you cannot, surely see me and
your little brother starve Try and beg
a few shillings, and perhaps by the time
that is gone l may be better Go, Henry
my dear, / grove to send you on such an
e,rand, but it must be done"
The boy, a noble looking little fellow
of about ten years, started up, and throw
inc his arms around his mothers neck, left
the house without word. He did not
hear the groan of anguish that was utter
ed by his parent, as the door closed be-
hind him; and it was well4he did not for
his little heartwas ready to burst without
it.
It was in a by-street in Philadelphia,
and as he walked to and fro on the side
walk, 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 cour-
age dwindled away, and the more difficult
it became to master resolution to beg
The tears were running fast down his
cheeks, but nobody noticed them, or if
they did, nobody seemed to care for al
though clean, Henry looked poor and mis-
cradle, and it is common for the poor and
miserable to cry.
Everybody seemed in hurry, and the
poor boy was quite in despair, when at
last he espied a gentleman, who seemed
to be very leisurely taking a morning
walk. He was dressed in black, wore a
three-cornered hat, and had a face that
was as mild and benignant as an angels.
Somehow, when Henry looked at him he
felt all fear. vanish at once, and instantly
approached him. Histears had been flow
ing SO long, that his voice trembled-but
that was with weakness, for he had not
eaten for twenty-four hours. as Henry,
with allow, faltering voice, begged for a
little charity, the gentleman stopped, and
his kind heart melted with compassion as
he looked into the fair countenance Of the
poor boy, and saw the deep blush which
spread over his e,sand 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, awhat has driven you to
this stepS"
aIndeed," answered Henry, his tears
beginning to flow afresh, aindeed, | was
not born in this condition But the mis-
fortune of my father, and the sickness Of
my mother, have driven me to the neces-
ity now"
''Who is yonr father~ inquired the gen
tleman, still more interested.
ssMy father was rich merchant of this
city, but he became bondsman for a
friend, who soon after failed, and he was
entirely ruined He could not live long
after this loss, and in one month he died
of grief, and his death was more dreadful
than any of our trouble. My mother, my
little brother, and myself sunk into the
lowest depths of poverty. My mother
has, until now, managed to support her
self and my little brother by her Iabor,and
have earned what I could by shoveling
snow and other work that I could find to
do. But night before last mother was
taken very sick, and she has since be-
come somuch worse that here the tears
flowed faster than ever-ssthat [ do fear
she will die. I cannot think of any way
in the world to help her I have not had
any work for several weeks. 1 have not
had the courage to go to any of my moth
er,s old acquaintances, and tell them that
she had come to need charity. 1 thought
YOU looked like a stranger, sir, and some
thing in your face overcame my shame
and gave me courage to speak to you
Oh, sir, do pity my poor mother"
The tears, and the simple and moving
language Of the poor boy, touched chord
in the breast of the stranger that was ac-
customed to frequent vibrations.
aWhere doesyourmother live, my boy
said he, in a husky voice, "is it far from
here@
siShe lives in the last house on this
street, sir," replied Henry. aYou can see
it from here, in the third block and on the