The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1872-10-18
Little Ben, the Newsboy.

Little Ben, the NewsbOy.
Some moths ago, or a years ago, may
be it was-I have forgotten just how /
long, for l don't remember times and |
seasons very well-two people were /
walking down the street one day. A |
big burly newsboy, very rough-looking, |
very dirty, and uncombed, he was walk
ing slowly along, just before the two /
people, crying in a horse, brazen voice: /
"'Ere's yer evening papers, 8 o'clock |
dish-in,p just as hundreds of rough /
looking, uncOmbed newsboys do every
day. But few feet behind the big boy I
another boy-a little One-was walk |
ing timidly. He was the merest mite
of a little boy, not more than seven
years old, think, and small for his age, (
too. He was fragile-looking little fel-
low, with pale face and slender little
hands. His hair was cOmbed and curled
carefully in long yellow curls almost
like a girls. None but mothers hand
can curl and comb boys hair Just the
way have noticed.
The small boy had few papers under
his arm, trying to hold them as the big
boy held Ills; and when the big boy
sung out his cry, Evening papers-five
o'clOck-dish-ini' in his loud voice, he
would Immediately turn around to the
little one and nod encouragingly, 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. Somehow
it made one feel queer about the throat
10 hear that poor little voice.
The large boy was teaching the small
one how TO be a newsbOy. Next after
noon, the two boys had another re-
hearsal, the next, and that time the lit
tie boy ventured across the street, faint
ly and timidly echoing the cry of his
big rough friend opposite. Hundreds of
people must have noticed the two, l am
sure.
The small boy was little Ben.
Ben was the smallest newsboy you
ever saw. Such a 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 from out of her
sight. Fine ladies said sometimes that
II was pity such a 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 so 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 a father, but he might
better have had no father. This father
was poor pitiful wretch of humanity,
fallen so low that think scarcely the
angels of heaven could have reached
them in the depth Of degregadation to
which he had sunk
lime had been, when his gentle
mother, with her slender hands and
yellow curling hair, so like little Ben's
OWL hVed IN large house and had a
carriage to ride in Time had been
Whe n sne had such happy home that
she mad nothing left on earth TO wish
ior. But that time was so long gone by
now that Ben's mother. in her troubIe
and despair, looked forward to no ham
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 hone.
The days of plenty and happiness were
SO long gone by for little Ben and his
LAtAAACAs NAAeAl DAAG AlEN lldu IO sup
per. And the next night il was Just the
same, and the neXt-and after that
little Ben often went 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, because be 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
cniid, that could do any good. Pres
emily he said:
TSa.l TSdanma, ma, what are you crying for?'i
had Ien zen ms mother told him that s.
either G o supper for him, and no bres' Ie
anv mon "aq h uld not know wherc Alast
iNin,e i,,oIe breakfast or sumner to get
conc ;; ". oe the angels W
SotIaS, tgE, SAID poor little T al bring us
po,.,ils are no len.
penny l. lear" :" angels any more
after that IL aid his mother
long tim" -.tle Ben stood bv her side
was alw' :, very silent, very quiet 1be
throp~ -sys quiet boy, trying To col ~ II
We ,gh his childish head t6at sSoIt ~ y
fe truly no more angels will ILL.,
white dresses and shining wings snci,
as he had seen in pictures his u6otbe,
used to have. The angels all Iool-ed
like his mother somehow, it seemed ~
him, and she would have made a beau.
tiful angel herself if she had only haC
broad, white wings. But he wanted hi
supper awfully, and some supper 70
mamma, too, the child thought.
BY and by, after thinking Will
longer, Ben went quietly out of door
and into the streets, stole so softly ou
the back way that his mother did no
see MIN at all. He went to the lad!
who lived next door and said;