“I won’t be in luck if Marlowe or Ned Sanders gets hold of me.”
“They won’t find you, away out West.”
“Marlowe might. He’s a tough customer, Marlowe is. I mind how he looked when he got hold of me at Staten Island. Jack1 ain’t so bad, but Marlowe’d go a thousand miles to get hold of me.”
“I wouldn’t think of it, Julius.”
“I shan’t lose no sleep. If he don’t break out of jail, I’ll be a man before he can get at me.”
“Look out of the window, Julius. See them cows harnessed together. What are they doin’?”
“They don’t go very fast.”
“They look as if they was lazy. They’re the biggest cows I ever see.”
Here Mr. O’Connor came into the car and passed down the aisle3, looking to see that none of the boys were missing.
“Well, boys, how are you getting along?” he asked, pleasantly.
“Bully!” “Tiptop!” were heard from the boys on either side.
“What have you got there, Julius?” asked the superintendent4, noticing the watch chain.
Julius drew out his watch.
“Where did you get it?” asked Mr. O’Connor, a little suspiciously. “You haven’t spent any of your money, have you?”
“No; it was given me,” said Julius.
“Given you?”
“By that gentleman.”
Mr. Taylor looked up, finding himself referred to.
“Is this the gentleman who has charge of your party?” he asked, turning to Julius.
“Yes, sir. It is Mr. O’Connor.”
“Mr. O’Connor, the boy’s story is correct. He detected a pickpocket5 in the act of appropriating my gold watch and chain. As it was of great value, I asked his acceptance of the watch and chain you see.”
“I hope you did not ask any reward, Julius,” said the superintendent.
“It was entirely6 my own thought,” said Mr. Taylor. “I presume the boy never thought of any compensation.”
“No, I didn’t,” said Julius.
“I am glad you have behaved so well, Julius,” said superintendent, approvingly. “I am sure you will value your present.”
“It’s bully,” said Julius, enthusiastically.
“Where do you intend to take the boys, Mr. O’Connor?” asked Mr. Taylor.
“I have an invitation from the citizens of Brookville, in Wisconsin, to make my headquarters there. I am told that boys and girls are in demand in that town and vicinity, and that I shall probably be able to find homes for all my party in that neighborhood.”
“I think you can. I know Brookville very well. I have a nephew living there. He is a prosperous farmer. By the way, I shouldn’t be surprised if he would like a boy. Suppose I give you a note to my young friend here to deliver to him.”
“I should be glad to have you do so.”
“If Ephraim takes him into his family, he will have an excellent home.”
“That is what we desire for all our party.”
“Do you generally succeed?”
“Very generally. We seldom receive complaints from the children we have placed. They are treated kindly7 almost without exception.”
“How about the other parties? Do they often prefer complaints of the children?”
“Sometimes, but not often. Considering the training our children have had in the city streets, they conduct themselves remarkably8 well in their new homes. Removed from the temptations and privations of the city, their better natures assert themselves, and they behave as well as ordinary children. In fact, I may say that most of the complaints that come to us are of a trivial nature. People forget that our boys are no more perfect than their own, and if now and then they pelt9 the cows, or leave the turkeys out in the rain, that hardly indicates a depraved heart.”
Mr. Taylor smiled.
“I have heard of such things, myself,” he said. “I suspect boys are about the same now that they were fifty years ago.”
“And will be fifty years hence. Of course, they will always need restraint, and, if they do mischief10, they must pay the penalty. Still, if a boy is simply mischievous11, I don’t think he can be considered a hopeless case.”
“I should say not. I used to do some things myself that were not quite exemplary. Of course I was punished and in time I steadied down.”
“As you seem to take an interest in our mission,” said Mr. O’Connor, “you may feel interested to read a letter[A] which I received not long since from one of our boys in Indiana. It is characteristic, and will give a good idea of the improvement which emigration makes in their condition and circumstances.”
[A] This letter is a genuine production. It is taken from an extremely interesting work, by Charles L. Brace12, on “The Dangerous Classes of New York, and Twenty Years’ Work Among Them.”
“I should like very much to read it,” said Mr. Taylor.
This was the letter:
“M——, Ind., Nov. 24, 1859.
“To My Friend and Benefactor13: So I take my pen in hand to let you know how I am, and how I am getting along. As far as I can see, I am well satisfied with my place; but I took a general look around, and, as far as I can see, all the boys left in M—— are doing well, especially myself, and I think there is as much fun as in New York, for nuts and apples are all free. I am much obliged to you, Mr. O’Connor, for the paper you sent me. I received it last night, read it last night—something about the Newsboys’ Lodging14 House.
“All the newsboys in New York have a bad name; but we should show ourselves, and show them, that we are no fools; that we can become as respectable as any of their countrymen; for some of you poor boys can do something for your country; for Franklin, Webster, Clay, were poor boys once, and even Commodore V. C. Perry or Math. C. Perry. But even George Law, and Vanderbilt, and Astor—some of the richest men of New York—and Math. and V. C. Perry, were nothing but printers, and in the navy on Lake Erie. And look at Winfield Scott. So now, boys, stand up, and let them see that you have got the real stuff in you. Come out here, and make respectable and honorable men, so they can say, there, that boy was once a newsboy.
“Now, boys, you all know I have tried everything. I have been a newsboy, and when that got slack, you know I have smashed baggage. I have sold nuts, I have peddled15. I have worked on the rolling billows up the canal; I was a bootblack; and you know, when I sold papers I was at the top of the profession. I had a good stand of my own, but I found all would not do. I could not get along, but I am now going ahead. I have a first-rate home, ten dollars a month, and my board; and, I tell you, fellows, that is a great deal more than I could scrape up my best times in New York. We are all on an equality, my boys, out here, so long as we keep ourselves respectable.
“Mr. O’Connor, tell ‘Fatty,’ or F. John Pettibone, to send me a Christmas number of Frank Leslie’s, and Harper’s Weekly, a Weekly News or some other pictorials17 to read, especially the Newsboys’ Pictorial16, if it comes out. No old papers, or else none. If they would get some other boys to get me some books. I want something to read.
“I hope this letter will find you in good health, as it leaves me, Mr. O’Connor. I expect an answer before two weeks—a letter and a paper. Write to me all about the lodging house. With this I close my letter. With much respect to all.
“I remain your truly obedient friend,
“J. K.”
“The writer of this letter is evidently a smart boy,” said Mr. Taylor, as he finished reading it. “I warrant he will make his way in the world.”
“I expected he would do well, when we sent him out,” said the superintendent. “In New York he was a leader in his set, and very successful in his street trades. But, as you see, he admits that he is doing much better out West.”
“His Western life will make a man of him. Do you often hear from those you have sent out?”
“We are in constant correspondence with them. We feel ourselves under an obligation to look after them still, and to show them that we keep up an interest in them.”
“It must have a good effect upon them.”
“We find that it does. They are ashamed to misconduct themselves, knowing that it will come to our ears.”
“Have you sent out many children, in this way?”
“Thousands of our children are located in different parts of the great West. With few exceptions, they are doing well, and bid fair to become—some have already become—respected and useful members of society.”
“What would have been their fate, had they remained in the city?”
“Many would be vagrants18, many, doubtless, tenants19 of prison cells; very few would have turned out well.”
“It is a great work,” said Mr. Taylor warmly. “I hope you will be encouraged to persevere20. I feel like helping21 you. Accept this contribution to the funds of your society,” and he drew two fifty-dollar bills from his pocketbook and handed to the superintendent.
“Thank you, sir,” said Mr. O’Connor, “I am sure you will not regret your gift. Every addition to our means enables us to extend our operations. This gift, for instance, will enable us to bring out six children to the West and place them in good homes.”
“Will it, indeed!” said Mr. Taylor, gratified. “That assurance alone abundantly repays me. But I must write the note of introduction which I promised to my young friend.”
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1
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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2
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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3
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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4
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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pickpocket
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| n.扒手；v.扒窃 | |
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6
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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7
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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8
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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9
pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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10
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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11
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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12
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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13
benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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14
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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15
peddled
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| （沿街）叫卖( peddle的过去式和过去分词 )； 兜售； 宣传； 散播 | |
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16
pictorial
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| adj.绘画的；图片的；n．画报 | |
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17
pictorials
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| 以图画表示的，有画面的( pictorial的名词复数 ) | |
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18
vagrants
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| 流浪者( vagrant的名词复数 )； 无业游民； 乞丐； 无赖 | |
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19
tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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20
persevere
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| v.坚持，坚忍，不屈不挠 | |
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21
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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