Year: 1866

1T must be, my child, said the poor widow
wlplng away the tears which slowly trickled
down her wasted face. | am too sick to work,
and you cannot, surely, see me and your little
brother starye. Try and beg few shilings,
and perhaps by the time that is gone | may be
better. 90, Henry, my dear. | glieve to send
you on such an enand but it must be done ?''


The boy, a noble looking little fellow OF about
ten years. started up, and throwing his arms
about his mothers neck, lett the house with
out a 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 Tor his little heart was already to burst
without it.


1t was by-street in Philadelphia, and as he
walked to and fro on the sidewalk, he looked
nrst at one person and then al another as thev
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 diti-
cult it became to muster resolution to beg. The
tears were running fast down his CHEEKS, but
nobody noticed them, Or If they did, nobody
seemed to care, for although clean, Henry
looked poor and miserable, and it is common
Tor the poor and miserable to cry.


Everybody seemed in hurry, and the poor
boy was quite In despair, when at last he espied
gentleman who seemed to be very leisllYely
taking a morning walk He was dressed in
black, wore three cornered hat, and had a
face that was as mid and benignant as an an
gels Somehow, when Henry looked at him.
he felt all his fears vanish at once and Instant
ly approached him. His tears had been fow-
ing so long, that his eyes were quite swollen
and red, and his voice trembled but That was
with weakness, tor he had not eaten for twenty
four hours. AS Henry, with low faltering
voice, begged Tor a little charity, the gentleman
stopped, aiid his kind heart melted with COM
passion 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 bis bread said he, kindly,
laying his hand On the boys shoulder, what has
driven you to this step?"


Indeed, answered Henry, his tears begin
ming to flow afresh Indeed, | was not born
In this condition. But the misfortune of my
father, and the sickness of my mother, have
driven me to the necessity now.


Who is your tather?'' inquired the gentle
man, still more interested.


My father was a rich merchant of this city,
but he became bondsnan for friend who soon
failed, and he was entirely ruined He could
not i've long after this loss, and in one month
he died Of grief, and his death was more dread
1ul than any OF our trouble My mother, my
little brother and myself soon sank into the
lowest depths OF poverty My mother has un-
til now managed to support herself and my lit
tie brother by her labor, and [ have earned
what l could by shoveing snow and other work
that L could find to do. But night before last
my mother was taken very sick, and has since
become SO much worse that here the tears
flowed faster than ever that I fear she will
die can not think Of any one in the world to
help her.. | have not had any work for several
weeks. have not the courage to go to any OF