Year: 1871




Some months ago or year ago, may be .
it was-l 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 uneombed he was,
walked slowly along just before the two
people, crying, in hoarse, brazen voice -


" Yer's yer evening pippers > O'Clock
e-dish-ing -


just as hundreds of rough-looking, uu-
combed newsboys do, every day But few
feet behind the big boy, another boy, little
one, was walking timidly He was the merest
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 combcd and curled carefully, in long,
yellow curs, almost like a girls. None but
a mothers hand can comb and curl boys
hair lust 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 out 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
encouragingly aud tell him -


" Now, you say it, Baby"


Then the pale little fellow, with the long
yellow curls would take up his cry, family
aud feebly, and try to say it in his weak,
childish quaver. Somehow 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 a newsboy. Next afternoon the
two boys had another rehearsal, and the
next, and that time the little boy ventured to
cross the street, and 60 down the other side,
family and tmidly 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 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 some-
times that it was a 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 dan
ger of being knocked down and killed If he
we're their boy he shouldn't do it for any
thing. For little Ben was very pretty
child, with his slender hands and long golden
curls.


How was it2 Did not his mother care for
her child2 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
8 fai1on 90 lou | thinl-
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 mother,
with her slender hands and yellow, curling
hair, so like little Bens own, lived in large
house and had a carriage to ride in. Time
had been when she had such 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 de-
spair, looked forward to no happiness 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
sometimes 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 night it 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 wstful blue eyes, he saw that her
work had fallen from her hands, and that she
was crying. At first Ben cried too, because
he did not know what else to do, laying his
bright little head on her shoulder, and clasp.
ing his weak arms tight about her neck, as if
poor child, that could do any good. Present.
ly he said


Mamma, what are you crying for


Then his mother told him that she had nc
supper for him, and no breakfast either, and
did not know where to get any more break.
fast or supper.


Maybe the angels will bring us some,
said poor little Ben.


There are no angels any more, Benny,
said his mother


After that little Ben stood by her side
long time, very silent, very quiet, he wa
always quiet boy) trying to get it through
his childish head that there were truly nt
more angels, with their white dresses and shin
ing wings, such as he had seen in picture hi
mother used to have. The angels all looked
like his mother, somehow, it seemed to him
and she would make beautiful angel herself
: If she only had broad white wings. But h
wanted his supper awfully, and some suppe
for mamma, too, the child thought.
BY and by, after thinking while longer
Ben went quietly out doors and into tn
streets, stole so softly out the back way tha
his mother did not see him at all. He wen
: to the lady who lived next door and said
" Mrs. Gray, will you lend me ten cents Z?
The lady, hearing the timid trembling
: voice beside her, looked down and saw smal


face gazing up into hers, with its childisl


faith and its childish beauty saw two large
blue eyes, with the tears half quiyering il
them already, as if the sensitive child ex
pected a refusal. Something, Aeetng rec
ollection maybe, or wandering tende
thought, floating about like thistle-dowI
seeking some place to rest upon, touched Mrs
: Gray's heart at the moment she remembers
v the strange feeling long afterward, and sh
: patted little Ben's bright hair, as she CAV
o him the money, and said he was good child
r Then little Ben went to the newspaper OF
. fee to wait for the Eve o'clock edition. |
o would have Jared badly with him then, onl
5 for Pat Hagans for the young rufians o


newsboys, seeing he was new boy and


green one, fell upon the poor child and begal


to beat and cut him sayagely, But anothe