Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1866-08-25
CHOICE MISCELLANY.
An Unexpected Friend,

"It must be, my child," said the poor
widow, wiping away the tears which
slowly tricliled down her wasted face
There is no other resource. am too
sick too work, and you cannot, surely,
see me and your little brother starve.-
Try and beg few shillings, and perhaps,
by the time that is gone, l may be better.
Go, Henry, my dear. / grieve to send
you on such an errand, but it must be
DONE"
The boy a, noble looking little fellow
of about ten years, started up, and, throw
ing his arms around his mothers neck,
left the house without word. He did
not hear the groan of anguish that was
uttered by his parent as the door closed
behind him; and it was well that he did
not, for his little heart was ready to burst
without it.
1t was by-street in Philadelphia and
as he walked to and fro on the sidewalk,
he looked first st one person and then at
another, as they passed him, but no one
seemed to look kindly upon him, and the
longer he waited the faster his courage
dwindled away, and the more difficult it
became to muster resolution to beg
The tears were running fast down his
cheeks, but no one noticed them, or if
they did, nobody seemed to care for, al
though clean, Henry looked poor and
miserable, and 1t is common for the poor
and miserable to cry.
Everybody seemed in a hurry, and the
poor boy was quite in diepair, when at
last he espied gentleman who seemed
to be very leisurely taking a morning
walk. He was dressed in black, wore a
thrce-cornered hat, and had face that
was as mild and benignant as an angels.
Somehow, when Henry looked at him he
felt all his fears vanish at once, and in
stantly approached him. His tears had
been flowing so long that his eyes were
quite red and swollen, and his voice trem-
bled, but that was the weakness, for he
had not eaten for twenty-four hours AS
Henry, with low faltering voice, beg
ged for 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 face,
and listened to the modest, humble tones
which accompanied his petition.
"You do not look like a boy that has
been accustomed to beg his bread" said
he, kindly laying his hand on the boys
shoulder; "what has driven you to this
step ?"
10 "Indeed," answered Henry, his tears
beginning to flow afresh, "indeed, | 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-
sity now"
"Who is your father?" inquired the
gentleman, still more interested.
"My father was a merchant of this city,
but he became bondsman for friend,
who soon after failed, and he was entire,
ly ruined. He could not live long after
this loss, and in one month he died OF
4 grief, and his death was more dreadful
than any of our. troubles. My mother,
my little brother and myself soon sunk
into the lowest depths proverty. My
j mother has until now managed to sup
fport herself and my little brother by hei
labor, and have earned what I ,corad by
shoveling snow, aud other work I could
find to do But night before last my
mother was taken so very sick"- bis tears
flowed faster than ever-ethat fear She
will die-l cannot think of any way in
the world to help her. | have not had
any work for several weeks. / have not
had, the courage to go to any of .mother''
old acquaintance, and tell them that she
has come to need and charity. / Thought
you looked like stranger, sir, and some
thing gave me courage to speak to you
Oh, sir, do pity my mother {"
The tears and the simple and moving
language of the poor boy touched chorc
in the breast of the stranger that was ac
customed to frequent vibrations,
! "Where does your mother live, m.