The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1871-06-16
LITTLE BEN, THE NEWSBOY.

Some months ago, or year ago, may
be it was-I have forgotten just how
long. for | don't remember times and
seasons very well-two people were
walking down street one day. A big,
burly newsboy, very rough looking, very
dirty and uncombed he was, walked
slowly along, just before the two people,
crying in a hoarse, brazen voice:
Yer's yer evening pippers, O clock
e-dish-ing y
Just as hundreds of rough looking,
uncombed newsboys do every day. But
a few feet behind the big boy, another
boy, little one, was walking timidly.
He was the merost mite of little boy,
not more than seven years old, think,
and small for his age, too He was
fragile looking little fellow, with pale
face and slender little hands. His hair
was combed and curled carefully, in
long yellow curls, almost like girls.
None but a mothers hand can comb
and curl a boys hair just that way, |
have noticed.
The small boy had a few papers under
his arm, trying to hold them as the big
boy held his. And when the big
boy sung ont his cry, " Evening papers
. o'clock e-dish-ing!' in his loud,
rough voice, he would turn Immediately
around to the little one, and nod en-
couragingly, and tell him.
" Now you say it, Baby"
Then the pale little fellow, with the
long yellow curls, would take up his
cry, family and feebly, and try to say
it in his weak, childish quaver. Some
how it made one feel queer about the
throat to hear that poor little voice.
The large boy was teaching the small
one how to be newsboy. Next after
noon the two boys had another rehear.
sal, and the next, and that time the
little boy ventured to cross the street,
and 90 down the other side, family and
timidly echoing the cry of his big,
rough friend opposite. Hundreds Of
people must have noticed the two, am
sure.
The small boy was Little Ben.
Ben was the smallest newsboy you
ever saw. Such little, little mite of a
fellow he was, that you wondered how
he could sell papers at all, and how any
mother could trust him out of her sight.
Fine ladies said sometimes that it was
pity such pretty child should be a
newsboy, and that his mother surely did
not care much for him, letting him run
about the streets so, in constant danger
of being knocked down and killed If
he were their boy, he shouldn't do it
for anything. For Little Ben was a very
pretty child, with his slender hands
and long golden curls.
How was it? Did not his mother care
for her child? Aye, she did for he was
the only comfort she had in the world
her only comfort and her only child.
Little Ben had father, but he might
better have had no father. This father
was poor, pitiful wreck of humanity,
fallen so low that think scarcely the
angels Of heaven could have reached
him in the depth of degradation to
which he had sunk
Time had been when his gentle moth
er, with her slender hands and yellow
curling HAIR, so like little Ben's own,
lived in large house, and had a car
riage to ride in. Time mad been when
she had such a happy home that she
had nothing left on earth TO wish for.
But that time was so long gone by now
that Ben's mother, in her great trouble
and despair, looked forward 10 no hap
piness and no beautiful home till she
should pass over the river. and enter
the gate of the celestial city. Indeed
so heavy was her trouble that she some
times lost sight of even that one last
hope.
The days of plenty and happiness
were so long gone by for little Ben and
his mother, that one night they had no
supper. And the next day it was Just
the same, and the next-and after that
little Ben often hungry to bed. One
day, watching his mother with his large.
wistful.blue eyes, he saw that her work
had fallen from her hands. and that She
was crying. At first Ben cried too. be.
cause he did not know what else TO do.
laying his bright little head on her
shoulder, and clasping his weak arms
tight about her neck as if. poor child.
that could do any good. Presently he
said
Mamma, what are you crying for Pr
Then his mother told him that she
had no supper for him, and no break.
fast either, and did not know where to
get any more breakfast or supper.
"Maybe the angels will bring us
some said poor little Ben.
There are no angels any more, Ben.
n.y." said his mother
After that little Ben stood by her side
long time, very silent, very quiet Che
was always a quiet boy), trying to get it
through his childish head that there
were truly no more angels, with their
white dresses and shining wings, such as
he had seen in picture his mother used