Year: 1871

1t was dark and stormy night in the
city of Gotham. Stages and omnibusses
were filled to overfowing with uptown
dwellers, who were anxious to reach
their homes and be protected from the
inclemency of the weather. Those who
were unfortunate enough to procure a
conveyance, made use of umbrellas as q
partial protection from the storm. Of
this latter class was Mr.. James Wilton.
AS he was passing homeward he was
accosted by small lad, who, in pitiful
tones, entreated aims for sick mother.
There was something in the lads ap
pearance that attracted the gentleman's
attention. His appearance was noble,
and his bright eyes were moistened
with tears. His appearance ought to
have appealed to the mans sympathies,
and for moment he felt inclined to af-
ford the asked for relief; but it was
only for moment. Remembering the
frequent impositions practiced by those
who solicit aims, in a rude voice he re-
piled, Begone; you young vagabond, |
have nothing for you," and passed on to
his home.


The conversation was heard by a be-
nevolent Quaker, who approached the
weeping boy, kindly took him by the
hand, and asked him the cause of his
grief.


1t was the oft-told tale of poverty and
sickness. He accompanied the boy to
his home, and there beheld scene of
poverty and distress such as ne had sell
dom witnessed. Everything bore the
marks of the most utter poverty and
destitution. On miserable pallet lay
a woman, evidently in the last stages of
an acute disease.


The Quaker had a physician imme-
diately summoned, who pronounced her
case hopeless, and he declared his ina
bility to do more than to mitigate her
sufferings for the few remaining days
she had to live.


Our little hero's Quaker friend did
not desert him in his troubles, but pro
vided him and his mother with all that
was necessary to render them comfort
able. and at her. death had her decently
buried at his own expense, and took the
lad to. his own home and employed him
in his own store.


| He was bright, active little fellow OF
thirteen<years of age. His father had
once been in good circumstances, but
| failure in business was succeeded by his
early death, leaving his wife and boy
in destitute circumstances. For a few
years the bereft widow, by excessive toll,
kept starvation from herself and de-
pendent son, but sickness Frustrated
her and all her resources failed. This
was her condition when her son Edgar
Foster by name) resorted to begging fol
her relief. What the result was we have
seen.


A short time after he took UP his
abode with his Quaker friend, when he
was passing through Pearl street, he
thought he saw q familiar face. He
could not be mistaken it was the man
who treated him so i'll when he was ask
ing aims for his sick mother. He raised
his eyes to the sign above the door, and
read the name of James Wilton. 'Tl
remember you vet, Mr.. Wilton" thought
the boy, as he passed on.


Edgar lived with his kind benefactol
for the space of eight years. In the
course of that time he became thor
oughly acquainted with the mercantile
business and ok-keeping. By indus
try and close application to business he
gained and retained the esteem of his
friend.


He attended school during the winter
season, when business was dull, and by
close application to study and judi
cious use of his time he became fine
scholar.


At the age of twenty-one he felt {
restless desire to try his fortune in the
great illimitable West, and provided
with an ample supply of clothing ane
money by his foster father he set out t.
seek his fortune.


Ten years passed years fraught will
many changes, bringing prosperity ant