Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1889-04-27
A PLEA FOR .THAT BOY"
To the Editor of the Eagle.

finds one word in his defense, hundred
thousand words are said against him
One would judge that he was response
bic for having been born boy and ht
had committed the great objectionable
crime when he was not born girl or a.
least full grown man.
We forget the boys Of today are the
hopes of the future: that the noisy
reckless, daredevil case of boy today
is the one that in the future is to be oul
defender and our hope of life, liberty
and prosperity. We are not speaking
now of the good Sunday school boy who
dies young or grows up to be ''milb
sop" of the firSt-class, but of the boy
that one meets hundred times
day with his noisy whistle
shrlll screech and '.happy &C
lucky" ways. A boy that once in 6
while takes the bits between his teeth
and with his heels in the air kicks ovel
the traces while he drags the whole pro
cession with him for few blocks at a
$40 gait. The prints of his iron bound
hoof may leave its mark on the dash
! board Of old father times wagon long
years afterward.
Such boys are the ones that we are
now defending and offering a plea for
! Old Mrs Worryall says he is a specie OF
wild animal. Granted at once. Yes, he
may be, but he is an animal that the
pure young hot blood goes bounding and
rushing through his veins until he must
run, jump and yell to keep within
bounds. An animal, if you please, that
his heart is the biggest organ IN his make
n N, I
him on his honor and all the wild
animals of midas jungle could not make
him forfeit it. OF course If
fensive side he will fight as a
Old Mr.. Worryall says he makes more
noise than steam engine. "Rather have
threshing machine in full motion in
the house than a boy of the present day"
Of course you would, my dear sir, for
the simple reason that machine repre-
sents to you SO many dollars and cents
and the average boy, God bless him, is
an outlay. What is boy good for if he
could not make noise? 1t would be a
foolish engineer that would shut up all
the valves of his engine with full steam
on and let her go. So it is with all of US
who try the same plan on the boy. He
is SO full that he must have safety
valve somewhere.
All, mothers of the present day, talk
about your voting and holding office!
God in heaven knows that every mother
of boy holds grander, greater office
than Benjamin Harrison. You are the
creator, and the president is only crea-
ture after all; and which is the greater,
the creator or the creature?
What if the prints of the muddy boots
are on your best carpet? What if prints
of top spindles are over the front porch?
What if ball accidently does break
your pet vase or your great great grand
mothers china cup? Do you know who
broke it? 1t may be a second Agassiz or
Longfellow that leaves these prints be-
hind him. If even the mayor of the city
broke your vase you would smile and
say, mo matter" while an embryo
president may be the recipient of your
wrath.
Oh, my dear mothers, the time may
come when you would gladly smash
every bit of bric-a-brac you have in the
whole house for one loud whoop of the
dear dead boy, or the boy that has wan
dered out in the world and many, many
miles of land and water stretches be
tween you and his handsome face. |
met strange lady in the street car the
other day that would almost give her
hope of heaven for ''touch of a vanish
ed hand. Ny own dear brown-eyed 6-year
old boy was with me and as he whistled
through the car treading on everybOdy's
toes with ''beg pardon" ana then
doing the same thing right over again,
he came to this lady. Her mourning
dress told that some one near and dear
had gone, but as she grabbed my baby
boy up in her arms and kissed him on
lips and cheek and brow, [ knew the
whole story. No need to tell me that
the daisies covered a little face that
resembled somewhat the living face that
she pressed to heart SO eargeriy. No
need to tell me how the tears that started
relieved the hot burning eyes. No need
to say that an unbounded tide Of love
guShed from her heart to the baby boy
that looked like. her lost treasure. How
much do you suppose that woman
would give to hear the Smartest lecturer
III the world talk about THAT Boy" and
his awful deeds? Rather she would give
all her earthly possessions for something
to fill up the void that was left when her
boy was laid under the sod. Every
dream and waking thought is filled with
him and the sad picture of what might
have BEEN are constant with her. Some
times it seems as tho her eyes would
burst for the want of tears and only
kiss from such boys as mine could make
them gush forth like the rock that Moses
smote mid Horeb's burning sand, and
Just the presence of the little head and
touch of baby fingers saves her heart
from breaking.
Do you see that little newsboy and
bootblack on the corner? To the most
of the passers-by he's simply a dirty,
noisy boy, ready to fight on the slightest
provocation; but in the sight of God and
the angels he is a greater hero than Ma
polean Bonaparte. Here is his story:
On a pleasant street of this city in
three room house lives an invalid widow
and three little girls. To lockers on
there seems TO be no means of support,
but not once has the hungry wolf been
admitted at the door. Not once has
sweet faced charity been seen knocking;
not once has stern want raped for ad-
mittance for right in front OF the door
standing between the helpless girls and
delicate mother and the outside world is
the sturdy newsboy, while he yells,
Morning papers" in such pitched,
screechy tones that makes every nerve
CULVER. He is not thinking about you
and your bundle of nerves. but thinks
rather, another nickel TO pay for coal
or -four as the case may be. From be-
fore dawn till dewey eve he is tramping,
yelling, fighting very often, ever ready
to extend help with the right hand
while the left is ready to give knock for
knock. Does he do all this from choice: