I beg leave to ask the insertion in the Magazine of a touching scene, which occurred during a missionary tour of the above friend of the outcast and neglected.  I shall give the narrative chiefly in his own words.

“I called at a horse station one morning very early.  The station keeper had just got up, and stood in the door.  I told him my business, and that I desired to see his boys a few moments.  He said his boys were in bed, and as I was an old man, he did not wish to have me abused.  ’You had better go on and let my boys alone,’ said he; ’they will most assuredly abuse you if they get up, for I have got a very wicked set of boys.’  I told him the very reasons that he assigned why I should not see his boys, were the reasons why I wished to see them, for if they were very wicked boys, there was the greater necessity for their reformation; and as to the abuse, that was the least of my troubles, for my Master had been abused before me.

“‘Well, sir,’ said he, ‘don’t blame me, if you are abused.’  He then awoke his boys, and as they came out, I talked to them.  Instead of abusing, they listened attentively to me, and some of them were much affected.  They took my tracts, and I presume, read them.

“On leaving them, I remarked, that I supposed the most of them were orphans, that I was the orphan’s friend, and though I might never see them again, they might be assured they had my prayers daily, that they might be converted.  There was one little fellow who, as I had observed, looked very sober, and who at the last remark cried right out.  As I wished to take the same boat again, I stepped out of the station house, but found it had left, and I was walking along, looking for another boat, when I heard some one crying behind me, and turning round, saw that it was the little fellow who wept so much in the station house.

“He said, ’Sir, you told me you was the orphan’s friend; will you stop?  I want to ask you a question.’

“I asked him if it was because he had now discovered that he was a sinner, that he cried, and wished me to talk with him.

“‘No, sir,’ said he, ‘I knew that three years ago.’

“I perceived, from his answer, he was an interesting boy, and said to him, ‘Sit down here, my son.  How old are you?’

“‘Thirteen,’ he replied.

“‘Where did you come from?’

“He said, three years ago his father moved from Massachusetts to Wayne county; he was a very poor man, and when they got to their journey’s end they had nothing left.  His father obtained the privilege of building a small log house to live in, on another man’s land, but just as he had got the house finished, he was taken sick and died.  I asked him if his father was a Christian, but afterwards regretted that I asked him the question, for it was a long time before he could answer it.