reserve. It was the best thing they could have done, as it called
public attention to their misery, and drew a crowd around them. A
tall stranger came near looked at the group, and said:

"My good man, what in thunder are you crying for?"

"I was told Peoria was a good place for farmin'," Samuel said, "and
now I don't know where to go, and I have got no money."

"Well, you are a soft 'un," replied the stranger. "Just dry up and
wait here till I come back."

He walked away with long strides. Peoria was then a dreary-looking
city, of which we could see nothing but the end of a broad road, a
few frame buildings, two or three waggons, and some horses hitched to
the posts of the piazzas.

The stranger soon returned with a farmer in a waggon drawn by two
fine upstanding horses, fit for a royal carriage. The farmer at once
hired the immigrant at ten dollars a month with board for himself and
family. He put the luggage into his waggon, patted the boys on the
head and told them to be men; kissed the little girl as he lifted her
into the waggon, and said:

"Now, Sissy, you are a nice little lady, and you are to come along
with me, and we'll be good friends."

Never was sorrow so quickly turned into joy. The man, his wife, and
children, actually began smiling before the tears on their cheeks
were dry.