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Little Ben, The Newsboy

Little Ben, The Newsboy image
Parent Issue
Day
26
Month
May
Year
1871
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

Some months ago, or a yerr, may be it was I have forgotten just how long, for I don't remcuilii-r timce and seasons Tery weH - two people were walking down street one ds.y. A big, burly newsboy, very rough looking, TWry . dirty and uncombed he was, walked slowly along, just before the two people, crying, in a hoarse, brazen voice : '■ Yer's yer cToniiig papers, 5 o'clock e - disli - ing I " - Just as hundreds of rough lookins, imcombed newsboys do, every day. But a few feet bchiiuTthe big boy, another boy, a little one, waa walËng tiinidly. He was the nierest mite of a little boy, not more than sevon years ojd, I think, and sinall for his age, too. He was a f ni gi le looking littlo fellcwf, with n pale face and slender little hands. His huir was coinbed and curled carefully, in long, yellow curls, alraost like a girl's. None but a. mother's hand can comb and curl a boy's hair jnst that way, I have noticed. The sraall boy had a few papers under his arm, trying to hold theui as the big boy held his. And when the big boy suñg out his cry, "evening papers- 5 o'clock e- dish - ing !" in his loud, rough voice, he would turn inimediately arouud to the little one and nod encouragingly, and teil him : " Sow, you say it, Baby." Than the pale little fellow, with the long yellow curls, would take up his cry, faintly and foebly, and try to say it in his weak childish quaver. Somohow it mado one feel queer about the throat, to hear that poor little voice. Tho largo boy was teaching the sinall one how to bo a nowsboy. Next atternoon the two boys had another rehearsal, and tho next, and that timo the littlo boy Tcntured to cross tho street. and go down the other side, faintly and timidly echoing the ery of bis big, rough friend oppo8itc. Hundrcds of people must have noticed the two, I ani sure. The sinall boy was Littlo Ben. I havo not much saving faith in tho race of newsboys, as a general thing. I am afraid that, in spite of Sunday schools and night schools, and savings banks, and oven newsboys' homes, they remain a class of the most depraved little wretches under the sun. I know I should be so myself in thoir place. It is not their fault. It is the fault of tho barbarous civilization which turas children out of theiv crudle6 to earn their living. Learned doctors say that the moral faculties, being the highest endowment of human nature, are therefore the very last to be developed. And that is why children aro mostly so unmerciful, cruel little heath ens, and pinch and torture each othor, and steal, and teil lies, and have to have ideas of right and wrong educated into them, so to speak. So that it is not until children approach manhood and womanhood that they begin to be truthful and honest and tender hearted. Indeed, I have kiiown even f uil grown men and omen who did not scem to havo any cry vivid ideas of right and wrong, not 'et being fully developed mentally. So when cruel neceasity lays the burdens of oarded men on the shouldere of weak lildren, we cannot expect anything else f them than that the -y will bc miniature larpers and wicked little wretchos. But never rneant to preach. I only meant ;o .teil the simple and sorrowful story of jittle Ben. It is a trae story, too. If I ould havo made it up myself, God knows wöuld havo given it a different endng ! He -was a nensboy, as I told yoi. Not ono of the angel kind oither. Ho sometimes said words, littlo as ho was, whioh would have shooked you, I aiu afraid, if you had hcard tlïem. And I know the only reason in tho world why ho did not knock down tho big boys who used to kick and cuff him when he vrent to take his turn in the row of boys in the newspapor office, was simply because he was too littlo todo it. Pataey Hagans did it for him for him, and Patsey was tho bully of the newsboys, the roughest, toughest, most reckless of thcm all, the hardest case in town, who always slept rolled up in a blapket upon the floot, and who knew 'how to swear when hu was two years old Patsey trained Little Ben how to bc a newsboy, and called him his baby. S Patsey had a soft spot in lus hard heart after all. Ben was the smallest newsboy you ever saw. Such a littlo mite of a fefiow he was, that you wondered how any mother could trust him out of lior sight. Fine ladit-8 said Hometimes that it was a pity that such a pretty child should be a newsboy, and that his mother surely did nol: care mucli for him, letting him run about the streets so in constant danger of being knocked down and killed. If he wcro i their boy he shouldn't do it for anything. For Lit.tle Ben was a vory pretty child, with his slender hands and long golden curls. How was it ? Did his mothor care for her child ? Ave, she did ; for he was tho only comfort he had in the world. Her only comfort and her only child. Little Ben had a father, but he might better have had no father. Tliis f.ither was a fjoor, pitiful wreek of humanitj', fallen so j ow thut I think acarccly the nngels of hcHvcn could havo reached him in the denth of degradation to which he had sunk ! I am sure nobody excopt an angel could have reached him, away down in the pool of slime and filth which was over him. For do beaet is so beastly as a huïnan bcust. Time was whcn this weak, bad man ïad been well to do in tho world, and respectable, and had friends. But it must hae been always in him to lie weak and bad, or ho would not havo fallen 80 eusily when temptation carne. An old tradition, which tells how the angels feil frora Paradiseaj'S that tho thrtmd which drew them into evil " was at flivt as thin as a cob-web, but they did not resist it, and it grew strong as a cabio." So with Little Ben' fathor. 1 Ie did not resist the cobwib at flrst, and now the cable bound him hand and foot, and lof't him no power, not even the wish, ever to rise again in tbis world. With the father of littlo Ben we have nothinff ruoro to do. Timo had been when Lis gentle niother, with het slender hands and yellow, curling hair, so liko Bun's own, lived in a large houto and had a carriage to rido in. Time had been when she had such a happy home that she had nothing left on earth to wish for. But that tiiue was so long gone by now that Ben'a mothor, in her great trouble and despair, lookcd forward to no happiness and no beautiful homo till she should xiss over the river and enter the gate of tho celestial city. Indeed, so heavy was her trouble, that she sometimes lost sight of even that one last hope. The days ofplonty and happiness wcre so long gone by for littlo Ben and his mother that one night they had no supper. And the next night it was juat the same, and the nest - and after that little Ben often went hungry to bod. One day, watching his mothw with his largc, wistful blue eyes, he saw that her work had tallen from her hands and that she was crying. At first Ben cried too, because he did not know what else to do ; Inving iiis briglitr little head on her shouldur, and clasping his weak anus tight about her neck, as if, poor child, that oould do any good. Presently he said : - " Mamma, what are you crying for ? " Then his mother told him she had no suppcr for him, and no breakfast (dther, and did not know where to get any mora .Veakfust or slipper. ■■ usjrbe the angels will bring us somo," said poor Httle Ben. " There a.re no angels any more Benny," said his mother. After that little Bon stood by hor side a long time. very silent, very quiet,) lie ivas alwaya a uiet boy,) trying to get it thro' his ohiïdiflh .hcad that thore were truly no more angels with tbeir white dressos and shining wings, such as he had seen in a picture his mother used to have. The angela all looked like his mother ; somebow, it seemed to him, that she would make a bcuutiful angel herself, ii'sheonly had broad white wings. But he wanted liis snpper awfuHy, and some supper for mamma, too, the ohild thought. By and by, after thinkiug a while longer, Ben went quietly out doors and into the streets, and stole so sot'tly (at of the back way that his mother did not sc him at all. He went to tho lady that lived next door and said : '■ Mis. Gray, will you lend me ten cents í " The lady, hearing the tiniid, trembling voice beside her, looking down saw a siikíII face gazing up into liers, with its chillish faith and its childish beauty ; saw two large blue eyes, with thetears half quiveringinthem already, as if tho sensitivo ohild expected a refusal. Something, a fleeting recollection, may be, ora Wttnaerinjr, tonder thought, floating about like a thistle down, seeking somo place to rest upon, touohcd Mrs. Gray's heart at tlio nioincnt; she remembered the strange feeling long af'terw-(l, and she patted little Ben'sbright hair, as she gave him the nioney nul Baid lic was a good cmld. Then little Bon went to the newsptiper office, to wait for the 5 o'cloek cdition. It would havo fared badly with him tlion, though, only for Pat ïlugans, for the young ruffiansof newsboys, Böoing lic was a new boy and a groen one, full upon the poor child and bcgan to beat him and Ottff him savagely. But ano t her wandering, tender thought, floating about like a thistle down, must have touehed and rested upon the heart of Put Hagan at that moment. For just as a big, bad boy, had struck poor Bon and made him cry, burly Pat Hagans roured out : " Dry that up, rot yer ! Yer dassent lick a boy of ver size, nohow ! " From thüt 'time, big Pat Hagans was tho cluimpion of Little Bon. He eduoát(i(l him to be ft newsboy, as I told you ; taught him how to " jaw back " when the boy's " sassed " him ; and also how to " slide off ou his ear," at proper times, too. That very first night, Pat's "baby " sold every ono of his papers. And that night little Ben and his mother had some suj;por; though Ben wondered wliut made his mother cry again, H tl y Bat down to eat, and hold him so tight in lior .irms, and ki.ss him again inid again. He thought it was a little unreasonable in a woman to cry when she had plenty of bread and milk. Maybe the angels had brought Ben and his mother their supper af tor all. Bnt Patsev Hasrans was the only angel diroctly visible in tliis case. I ara doubtful he was ríitfier a dirty looking angel, chewing tobáceo, and smoking a stump pipe as he did. And I'm positively oertain nobody would have let him hito a Sunday school tableau as an angel. cYcrtheless, for all his patched trousers nd toes stitíking out of his boots, he vas nat as much a proteoting spirit to littl' Jen as if hehad woin tho (uiliodox white cotton gown and goose wings. ünder tho wing of his guardián angel, then, little Ben had almost no trouble. Only once after the first week, was he tormented at all, and ihat was when an envious newsboy began to beat hún beoaiiee Bei jad sold out all bis papen, while the other boy bad not, But angel Pat -was at band in less tban no time, and made. tbc spiteful jcmrnal boy sec sueh stare that bc didn't daro say boo to Ben :iflcr tliat That was tbe last tbat ever the boy troubled bim. He was so little, so help less and 60 barmlesR, tbat by and ly spirit of pity and gentlencss towards liii began to develop itself, oven among tb merciless, outcast newsboys. Tluy b( camo to bc go kindand cbivuli mis towardfi bim tbat not a boy of them all would jro near Bcn's beat, not a boy of them would take a Customer from him. They were glad to rciucmber it, too, after that happened whiuh (uil happen. So for months that wetk little boy earn od supper for biinself and his mother. Peoplo wore ver) kind moatly. Ladics and gentlemen bought papen of the pretty golden-haired ohila even when they did nut trant thnn. Car drivrs often glaoked up whon they saw bun coming, so that be might climb on stvfely, and i vi n the big policemen uscd to watch hira safuly aeross the strect. Little Ben h'iirncd more of the big world tlian ho ever thougbt was to be known ; more than was good for a child to know, perhaps. Hu used to look at the fine carriuges and wonder whether lie could evor sell papers enough to bny a carriage. lio woadored whatbe could do wlun he was a man. He would not bo a newspapur editor, he thought, bocnuso editora were alwaye ao cross and in such a hurry, and didn't eceni to havo much monoy, ho noticed. Maybe he would be a stroet car drivei'. He likid that botter, ür may be ho would even have to go and be a legislator, and have to be haulcd about in a haok and gaped at. IIo would not liko that at all. On the whole he thought he woulci be a milkinan, he told his er, because a niilknian could rido all day in a wagon, and seemed to got more nioney than anybody elsc. And little Ben learned some bad words and rough wayg f rom the other boys, too. But he noTer said the bad words before his mother, never. And he always gave her every penny of hislittloearnings, not eren keeping euough to buy pocket knifu with two bladcs, thoxigli he wanted it more than anything else in the world. At last a terrible thing happencd, I hardly know how to write it down, i'or when I go to Tvrito of that my hand Bhakos and the tears come in spite of me, and somehow I eecm to be writing of one who was vcry near kin to me. One afternoon little Ben went out merrijy to sell his papers, lmslender, delicato hands and face very clean, and his long, bright curls shining in the sun. His mother watched hini out of sightfrom her window.just as always. That was the last time she ever curlod little Ben's long, bright hair ; the last time she was ever on the watch for her darling from tho window. Poor little Bon ! -He had sold three papers, and the little fellow climbed iuto a street car and sold another. He ineant to step off at the Crossing, but the ehild was ver y little, very weak, and missed his footing, and feil ander the car. In an instant the heavy wheel rolled over him - and poor Little Ben nevcr sold any more papers. Never, never, more ! They stopped tho car and picked up the small, crushed body in a moment. A little feeble trembling life yet quivered within mm, and ho opcned his blue eyes faintly and begged them piteously to send for his mother. They knew tho child and went instantly. But the faint, tiny spark of life gliminered feebly and went quietly out beforo tho stricken mother came. And with the cold hand of death stiffening bis whito eyelids, and dimniing his great bluo i yr-, little hcro Ben murmurtd wilh his lnst weak breath, the worde mingling brokenly with tli. " Teil mother - I've sold four papers - and - the -is in - my pocket." A crowd of men and women, moRt of them with tears in their eyes, saw the long, bright curls, all draggled and dusty, two poor little slim hands, broken at the wrist, one of them hanging quite dead and lifeless - aheart-broken wonian mining and crying, and claeping wildly to hér 'r.r.:?st the crushed shapoless thing whirh had been golden-haired Little

Article

Subjects
Old News
Michigan Argus