garments and in apparently indifferent health; entered, and begged a
lodging and a mouthful of food. Said he: "It is now twenty-four hour's
since I tasted bread." The widow's heart bled anew, as under a fresh
complication of distresses; for her sympathies lingered not around her
fireside. She hesitated not even now; rest, and a share of all she had,
she proffered to the stranger. "'We shall not be forsaken," said she, "or
suffer deeper for an act of charity."

8. The traveler drew near the board, but when he saw the scanty fare, he
raised his eyes toward heaven with astonishment: "And is this all your
store?" said he; "and a share of this do you offer to one you know not?
then never saw I charity before! But, madam," said he, continuing, "do you
not wrong your children by giving a part of your last mouthful to a
stranger?"

9. "Ah," said the poor widow--and the tear-drops gushed into her eyes as
she said it--"I have a boy, a darling son, somewhere on the face of the
wide world, unless Heaven has taken him away, and I only act toward you as
I would that others should act toward him. God, who sent manna from
heaven, can provide for us as he did for Israel; and how should I this
night offend him, if my son should be a wanderer, destitute as you, and he
should have provided for him a home, even poor as this, were I to turn you
unrelieved away!"

10. The widow ended, and the stranger, springing from his seat, clasped
her in his arms. "God indeed has provided your son a home, and has given
him wealth to reward the goodness of his benefactress: my mother! oh, my
mother!" It was her long lost son, returned to her bosom from the Indies.
He had chosen that disguise that he might the more completely surprise his
family; and never was surprise more perfect, or followed by a sweeter cup