At the turn of the century, a man wrote in his diary the story of a young newsboy he met on a street near his home in London. It was well known in the neighborhood that the boy was an orphan. His father had abandoned the family when the boy was a baby, and his mother had died shortly after he began selling newspapers.

     All attempts to place the boy in either an institution or a foster home were thwarted, because the boy refused each offer of help and ran away when attempts were made to confine him. "I can take care of myself jest fine, thank ye!" he would say to kindly older ladies who questioned whether he'd had his porridge that day.
     Indeed, he never looked hungry and his persistence at selling papers, load after load, gave the impression he spoke the truth.
 
     But the streets are a lonely place for a child to live, and the man's diary reflects a conversation he had with the child about his living arrangements. As he stopped to buy his paper one day, the man bought a little extra time by fishing around in his pocket for coins and asked the boy where he lived. He replied that he lived in a little cabin in an impoverished district of the city near the river bank. This was something of a surprise to the man.
     With more interest, he inquired, "Well, who lives with you?"
     The boy answered, "Only Jim. Jim is crippled and can't do no work. He's my pal."
 
     Now clearly astounded that the child appeared to be supporting not only himself, but also someone who was unable to contribute any income, the man noted, "You'd be better off without Jim, wouldn't you?"
     The answer came with not a little scorn ~ a sermon in a nutshell:
"No, sir, I couldn't spare Jim. I wouldn't have nobody to go home to. An' say, Mister, I wouldn't want to live and work with nobody to divide with, would you?"
~Author Unknown
 
" . . . for the LORD seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart." 1Samuel 16:7
 
Go oft to the house of thy friend ~ for weeds choke the unused path. ~ R. Emerson

 

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