The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1862-06-13
AN ANGEL.
By MARY A. DENNISON.

but never mind that. He wanted to think.
Who are these people passing him, looking
so warm and comfortable? What did it
mean that they should be happy and cheerful
and he so sad9 None of them had such
heavy hearts; that he was sure Of He look
ed up into the cold blue sky. What was it,
and who lived up there? Somebody had
said once tina: God would take care of him.
Where was God? Why didn't he take care
of him? Oh! if he could only see God for
one little minute, or the angel that the good
men told him of when his mother died Did
folks ever see God? Did they ever see an
gels ?
An organ-grinder came near and took his
stand. The melody he played lghtened
the little beggar boys heart somewhat =
but it didn't warm him; it didn't make him
less hungry. He kept shivering in spite of
the music, and he felt SO all alone, so de-
spairing! Then the organ-grinder passed a.
way; he never needed the little child sitting
on the curbstone, he had SO many things to
think of. The carriages passed by, and the
carts, and company of soldiers; but it was
all dumb show to him--he was trying to
think, with such dull pain at his heart
Presently, three or four coarse-looking bows
gathered behind him, and winked and laugh
ed at each other. In another moment, the
gave thrust and over went the
poor little homeless child into the gutter
One scream, one sob of anguish, as he gath
cred himself up, and looked after the boys,
now flying away with shouts of mirth. Oh !.
how cruel it seemed in them-how cruel -
The little hungry boy walked slowly on, sob
blng and shivering to himself. He didn't
know what he was walking for, or why he
was living. He felt out of place "a poor lit
tie torlorn spirit that had lost its way-a
little heart SO tender that a look was an
guish, how much more blow.
The little boy stood at last near the corner
of street. An apple stand, at which he
gazed with longing eyes, not far off, was
tended by a cross-looking old man. There
were cakes on the stand, and the poor little
mouth Of the homeless child watered as he
saw one boy after another deposit his penny,
and take his cake. He had no penny, and
though there was hunger in his eyes, the
cross-looking old man never offered him a
morsel.
The tempter came. The old mans back
was turned. A vile boy at his side-at the
side Of the homeless chld-nudged his ell
bow. "Iou take one," he whispered; "lll
give you half"
The little child gazed at him steadily. He
saw something in the beared eyes that made
him shrink; something that set his heart
beating.
81 tell you, hook one" whispered the boy
81 wont tell, and we'll go away and eat it."
81 don't want to steal" said the homeless
child.
"Oh! you fool" muttered the brutal
tempter, and smote him in the eyes, mis- hea-
Wy hand dealing blow that sent the poor
little child against the wall, his whole frame
quivering with anguish. The terrible blow
had almost blinded him for moment. A
great sob cane up in his throat. "Oh! what
have done to be treated 2" There never
never was God, or He would not let me
suffer so, and that because he refused to be
wicked. don't believe that ever man in
his deadliest bereavements suffered more thar
that sad little child. His heart was LITERAL,
swelling with grief, and though he could no,
reason about it, he felt as if there was great
and sore injustice somewhere.
He stsrted to cross the street. A dark
binding pain still made his poor temple,
ring.
"Back back! Good heavens. The chile
is under his feet! Back! back :"
"Oh! mamma, it is our horses run over
poor little boy. Oh! mamma, mamma"
"Is he hurt much, coachman ?" The WON
on's face is pale as ashes. "Yes,he is hurt bad
ly. Take him right in +; don't wait; carr,
him right in and up stairs. 1t was your care
lessness. The child shall be attended to-"
There is no anguish now. Perhaps Go,
saw he had borne all he could, and so tool
the poor little broken heart there to heal
How very white and quiet. 'Oh! a swee
face-a sweet, sweet face.' murmured tn
woman, bending over the boy; and tears fel
upon his forehead, but he did not feel them.
'Oh, the poor little boyr sobs Nelly, 'th
poor little boy. wish he had kept on tn
sidewalk; l wish he had staid at home wit
his mother
Alas in this world there was no mothe
to keep him.
The doctor came, said he was not deat
but would very likely die. There was hos
pital near. The poor thing had better b
sent there. But the good woman would nc
allow that. She would care for him herse
she said. He had been injured by one {
her horses, and she felt it was her duty to al
tend to him. Besides, it was likely the chill
had no mother. Such boy as he, with
face so sweet and girlish, SO pure and love;
bic, would never be sent on the streets lik
that if he had mother. Besides land he
tears felD there was little mound not "
green over just such child. No, no; it Wa
: not in her hnart To nut the moor Xnunde