i M (aiW iiii i i «i i Mmffli i W'>i)Mi w »tii»iirt L I B RARY OF THE U N IVLRSITY or ILLINOIS 56Z.7 K2&S The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN JAN -5 3TI 'MOV 2 » 1P?t NOV 3 war APR c^.jsb DEC 2 B I98r kwwii J. iu' •■ MAY 03 1992 MAY 2 1932 ) 4 20(12 L161— O-1096 THE CHILD-MOTHER. STEEET AEABS GUTTEE Si^IPES. THE PATHETIC AND HU3I0B0US SIDE OF YOUNG VAGABOND LIFE IN THE GBEAT CITIES, WITH BECORDS OF WOBK FOB THEIB BECLAMATION. BY GEO. C. NEEDHAM, Author of "Recollections of Henry Moorhouse," "The True Tabei'nacle,' " Life and Laboks or C. H. Spukgeon," etc. BOSTON : D. L. GUERNSEY, 1884. Entored acoordinR to an Art of Congress, in the year 18a3, by D. L. Guebmbet, in the Office of the Librarian of Congrese, at Washington, D.C. Electroiyprd mid Printed by .Stttnlci/ and L'slwr, 1 71 Devonshire Street, Jlostoii. PREFACE A PREFACE is like a doorway to a house, through whicli the reader finds access to the book. It also gives the author opportunity to explain or apologize. I take advantage of the custom, and, as I usher in the stranger, offer some explanations. This book is a plea on behalf of neglected and destitute children, found chiefly in our great cities, and too often educated in crime by unnatural parents or vicious guardians ; or who, through the stress of circumstances, are forced into a course of life which tends to the multiplication of criminals and the increase of the dangerous classes. . This evil is exposed by statement of fact, by illustrated narrative, and by statistics. If public attention is thereby arrested, and sufficient proof adduced to awaken an interest in child-life, and enforce a conviction that thousands of juveniles are degraded through neglect, I am persuaded the tragedies of which children form the chief part will materially decrease. A protest against wrong-doing is one step in the right direction ; a plea for reform another; both, however, cover only a little of the road over which we must walk if we are alive to diity and sensible to privilege. The practical applications of proved remedies go still beyond, and reach unto the end in view within these pages. True, there are no grand schemes propounded of universal reform ; no novel experiments demanded ; nor are laws and regulations recognized as worthy of world-wide application. Examples are given of work done by humane organizations; and the wonderful achievements of individual enterprises in this field of philanthropy are prominently noticed. But there can be no iron hand to grip and guide young vagabond life ; it must be a hand of love tempered with firmness, guided with wisdom, and ever outstretched in the power of prayer and faith. iv PBEFACE. I EAfTORATiox. as one important sclieuK'. — pei'liaps tlie most I lu'ljitul of all, — -is earnestly commended. Having Avatched its V manifold workings, I mnst testif}' to its beneficent resvilts. Many of the harrowing scenes depicted within these pages, and of the marvelous transformations effected, have come under my personal observation. Emigration as an antidote to overcrowding is fast becoming a doctrine with man}- philanthropists ; as also it is becoming a growing conviction that rhild reclamation is a more important consideration than adult reformation. If the same ])roportionate ability, perseverance, and capital be invested in working tliese "Arab'' mines, which are given to the claims of degraded men and women, there will surely be a better and surer return. Not to call attention from any legitimate method to save the lost are these lines written, l>ut the rather to encourage C'hristian labor in all departments. The salvation of the children V in this generation ensures the salvation of the parents in the next; so also the elevation of degraded adults now will i^ro^e of inestim- able value to children yet unborn. But who is sufficient for these things? The old ])roverb, '^Prayers and pains will do any- thing,'' holds within it the true secret. In this work especially both must be given without stint ; supplications and self-denials ])oured out without measure must and will prevail. " Xo caprice of niiml, No passing influence of idle time, No popular sliow, no clamor fi'om the crowd, Can move him erring from tlie right." How much better to prevent a fall than employ an ambulance; how much pleasanter to escort an emigrant than to attend a funeral. There are around us in our Making hours, and haunting us in our sleep, men and women, out of whose eyes, like decaying wood, gleams the dying soul, Avhose existence is a travesty on life, whose death CA'er hasteneth, Avhose childhood was capable of reclamation in days of comparative innocence, Avhile vice had not as yet ossified the heart, nor unltridlcd lust destroyed forever the finer sensibilities; but shall it be said fliat no man caved for them? Even so. Christian Charity never .sought, or, at least, neA'er found them ; for if she found she would surely saA^e ; and now, in premature decay, PREFACE. V in swift-consuming corruption, Hope stands aghast witli melancholy forebodings, rendering the little service left to be done, becanse of limited opijortunites, in preparing a shroud and a grave ; and, with the awful hush creeping over her of a consciousness that Neglect had defeated Charity in an attemjit to save these subjects in earlier years, she buries in silence the disfigured body of Death, which might have been, which ought to have been, a transfigured temple full of life and light through tlie indwelling of holiness and love. I plead guilty with an old writer : '" I am but a gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff." I have culled freely from many a garden ; others have grown the flowers, I have simply prepared the boiiquet ; none the less acceptable, I hope, that the flowers are natural and homelike. There are those who have long labored with street-children whose experience entitles them to a universal hearing in their pleadings for the little ones. I have neither disguised nor recast their utterances. They speak for themselves ; having done little more than the silent rock, I re-echo their teachings, and with literal exactness. The sensationalism of the book arises from the tragic conditions detailed ; the grim facts set before us are indeed sensational of themselves, nor is there need to borrow from the artificialitj' of unrealism to excite or surjjrise. Many of the engravings are taken from photographs which show at a glance the contrasts of the " Arabs " in the city, and the same " Arabs " in the country ; between vice and virtue ; between idleness and industry. The publisher has spared no expense in procuring suitalile illustrations ; Mr. C. L. Brace, of the New York Children's Aid Society, kindl}^ consented that we use the plates from his book,, " The Dangerous Classes of New York " ; Miss MacPherson and Miss Bilbrough permitted us to use photographs of their children ; while Dr. Barnardo's "Night and Day "supplied us with several subjects of interest; — to all of whom we feel greatly indebted. After sending our final chapter t5 the printer, two additional books came to hand which are worthy of study : " Organized Charities," by Mrs. James T. Fields, and "Traps for the Young," by Mr. Anthony Comstock. These do not deal exclusively with the vi PREFACE. subject of Street Arabs, but iucidentally aiicl i)Owerfully show how such are made and reclaimed. " Traps for the Young " should be \j carefully read by all ])arents, teachers, and philanthropists. Had we received this book earlier while writing chapter third on " Arabs' Academies," we shest efforts both to shield and save them. Hark to their plaintive wail : — " Do not siuiiii iiu', III my )n-ayci-; For this wamloriiig, ever lon^'er, evermore Hatli overborne me, Anil I know not in Avhat shore I luiiy rest from my desiiair." : c . yOiQ.jL,a^ Elim Cottage, ]\Iancliester-l)3--tl)e-Sea, Mass. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. DULY QUALIFIED. The Title "Arab."' — The Arab of the Desert. — Desert and City Bedouins. —Gutter Snipes. — Waifs. —Children Excite Curiosity. — My First Waif. — Society's Darkest Woes. — Per- verted Charity. — An Irish Widow. — The Little Black-ej^ed Girl. — Gone for a Watch. — "A Being of Beauty and a Joy Forever." — "Nobody's Children." — Poor Tom. — Tom in the Carriage. — The Frightened Lady. — Drunken Sal. — " Lem me Out!" — Tom's New Suit. — Tom's Breakfast. — Tom's Home.. 21 CHAPTER II. SURPRISES. Pleasure of Surprises. — "Be You God's Wife?" — Crackling's Secret. — Watching Customers. — " Plain Plum or Curran" ? " — Bolting a Choice Morsel. — " Cold Suetty." — Crackling Gone Mad. —The Gaunt Man of Pride. — "God Bless You for Such Goodness to a Stranger ! " — Crackling Victimized. — Endless Freaks and Multiplied Dodges. — My Boy, and Pie-Eulogy. — My Surprise. — " Arabs' " Phraseology. — What is True Charity?. . . 39 CHAPTER III. " ARABS' " ACADEMIES. Our Free Institutions. — The City of Chicago. — A Pandemonium of Vice. — "Arab" Literary Ware. — Anthony Comstock's Mis- sion. — Studying tlirough the Window. — Gloating over Pictures. — Filching a File in Order to Buy a Paper. — All Should Fight This Evil. — Lord Derby's Advice. — Tlie Low Theatre. —The Mimic I'aculty Characteristic of Human Nature. — " I 've Got to Come Home Boozed." — Acting to the Life. — " The Tipsy Rascal viii CONTENTS. Aged Eiglit." — "She Cried 'Murder, Murder!"" — The Arrest. — The Keooneiliation. — Seeking His Pay. — " Chuckiir Hand- spriiigs and Somersets." — How the Joke Tickled Him. — ^ How the Grubby-faced Actor Lived. — "It Was a Strange Story."' — The Result of Visiting Low Theatres 55 CHAPTER IV. UNNATURAL PARENTS. " Sairey Gamp" and "Mrs. Harris." — Mistress Society. — Suffer- ing Children. — Unnatural Parents. — A Diminutive Female. — •■ Now They Fit Lovely."" — The Poor Old Cobbler. — Calling on Crispin. — "He Did Pretty Well as a 'Translator.'"" — '•That"s Her Cuss and Mine too."" — The Drunken Wife. — The Relieving Officer's Discovery. — A Healthy Child Reduced to Seventy Ounces. — Terrible Tragedies. — Stepmothers. — Darlv Deeds. — "It Xever Had a Garment."" — Bacchus and Moloch. — ^The Ravages of Drunkenness. — Royalty Among the Lowly. — ""My Heart is Mos" Bruck." — The Three Woolly Black Heads. — ••Five Cents a Sack for Her Work."" — '• Mudder, Let "s Go."" — The Bath, Clothing, and AVarm Soup 7i CHAPTER V. SHIRKERS AND HEROES. Temjjorary Employment Provided. — Plan of Operations. — A Pair of Shirkers. — " Charley, I "m Open to be Converted." — Like the Wriggle of a Homeless Dog. — '•Sleepin' on a Hempty Stomach." — Objections to Work. — •• Is this Your Bloomin' House of Labor?"" — Description of a "Rough."' — Heroes. — The Crossing-Sweeper. — Squeaker and Poll. — Porkej-"s Precious Trick. — "I'm the Father, She's the Motlier."' — Papers and Lights by Turns. — ••Poll Earns More "ii I Do."" — Charlej'"s Sudden Alarm. — The Reason Wliy S)G CHAPTER VI. " WAYS THAT ARE DARK." " Arabs "' Wonderfully Inventive. — The Potato-man. — '• Like Ajax Defying the Lightning." — " Arabs"" are Disappointing. — •Sharp and Sly. — Juvenile Offenders. — Stealing a Jacket. — A CONTENTS. ix Public-house Robbery. — Three Bad Boys. — The Donation Box. — Bobbing a Bather. — Digging up a Diseased Cow. — Drowning a Brother. — Carrotty Joe. — Tlie Slice of Luck. — ^ " I goes in for New Inwentions. " — " Japan Paper Pair-o'-sauls." — The Ruined Lucifer-Man. — The Spill. — Tlae AVliite-faced Blacking-Seller. — Jollying. — "Wallopin"."— The Visit. — "A Chip of the Old Block."' — "An Idle Warmint." — The " Pints." — Hair and Ears 113 CHAPTER VII. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. Boys' Noses. — Parrots and Pugs Predominate. — "Arabs'"" Cos- tumes. — The Truant Scholar. — Mr. Spurgeon and the Orphan. — Not Enough of Dirt to Make a Minister. — Deacon Day. tlie Cooper. — How to Manage Hot Soup. — " A Home for Pups."" — How to Discover a Pickpocket. — "' The Firm 's Busted." — • Hdw to Manage Incorrigibles. — ^A New Yoi'k Venerable Atom. — ."■ Wee Davy." — Davj^ a Bore. — ^Davy and His Grandmother. — The Doctor's Sermon to Davy. — The Train and the Ticket. — Davy Dying. — Davy's Saviour. — Poem on Outcast Waifs--. 134 CHAPTER VIII. WOMAN TO THE RESCUE. Women Philanthropists. — Female Novelists. — ''Too Dreadful to Know of."' — Desolating Individualism. — The Swift and Teri-ible Nemesis. — Save the Children. — The Bristol Plan. — How Five Thousand Girls were Saved. — How Girls are Decoyed. — The •'Black Kitten." — Best Methods of Reclamation. — ^The " Female Brethren.*"- The Dissipated Old Bachelor of Eight. — "All Progress Begins with a Sense of Sin."' — A Disagreeable Subject. — Sky-high Christianity. — Saving Soul and Body. — Spanisli Gypsy Mothers. — - The Old Thatcher. — Experience of a London Barrister. — Our Factory Population. — Saint's Day and Sinner"s Day. — Free-Lovers Sowing their Evil Seed. — Self-sacrifice Demanded 153 CHAPTER IX. PERSONAL EFFORT. Story of Little Mary. — Victor Hugo"s Description of tlie " Ai-ab."" — " The Pretty Picture." — " Ma'am, it would make a Gentleman of X CONTEXTS. iiie."' — Omnipotency of Faith. — God's Little Girl. — Selling his Son. — The Kunawaj' Pig. — When Polly was Tight. — A Little "Wild Savage. — The Beautiful Moon. — CoiTuption of the Lord's Prayer. — Mary's Conscience Finally Reached. — Asking Forgiveness. — Mary's Changed Conduct. — Her Prayers. — Taken Home. — The Moral Precipice. — "I Serve." — "Little Flower " and the Teacher's Grave. — My Bright-eyed Child. — " Have i ou? " 175 CHAPTER X. HARD EXPEEIENCES. Child-life Endangered. — The Water-dog. — Who are the Neglected Ones'? — "• Patsey the Dog.'" — The Storj' of Bai-nardo's Rescue Work. — First Efforts. — The Startling Discovery. ^ — Sleeping- Out. — Taught Useful 'J'rades. — Increasing Facilities for Boys and Girls. — '-The Edinboro' Castle." — The Singing-Class. — Ginger, Jumbo. Parrot, and Croppy. — Pummelled by Police- men. — A Sorrowing Mother. — S])ecimen Cases of Poor Girls. — Numbers 1, 2. ;^. 4. — City Missiouar}' Experiences. — Description of a Tramp's Lodging-House. — One-eyed Joey. — Joey's Religion. — Joey's Singular Gift. — The Girl's Affecting History. — Joey's Honorable Stratagem. — Difficulty of Finding Employment for Discharged Prisoners. — From Despair to Hope. — An AU-Suffi- cient Remedy. — How to reach the Mountain-Top? — The Stair- waj' and the Elevator.— How to reach the "Arabs" en masse? — Mr. George IL Stuart and the Little Girl? — The Twelve Lost Girls 19!t CHAPTER XI. A COMMENDABLE WOIIK. Workers Not Alone. — Cliaritable Institutions, where Found. — The Clnidren's Aid Society. — Annual Report. — Criminal Gangs broken up. — Object of the Societ}'. — Industrial Schools. — De- crease of Feminine Crime. — Great Obstacles. — Italian Children. — The Summer Home. — Lodging-IIouses. — Economy of the Society. — Interesting Statistics. — Occupations of Pupils. — In Winter Many come Barefooted. — Ladies at Work. — Principle of Teacliing. — Kindergartens and Creches. — Night-Schools. — For- eign Children, how Treated. — Germans, Bt)liemians, Italians. — Exhibitions and Recreations. — The Sunnner Home. — How tlie Cliildren Enjoy it. — Xuuiber Benelited. — Enormous Appetites. COXTEXTS. xi — Plans for Enlargement. — This Noble Charity has a Higher Destiny. — Interesting- Letter from Dr. Skinner. — Sources of En- joyment. — Rusticating. — Their Jolly Song. — Batliing. — Prin- ciples of Government. — Dining-Tables. — Their Favorite Song. — Xewsboys Lodging-IIousc. — Eepresentatives from Every- where. — Former Boys Now in Middle Life. — Newsboys' " Hotel .'' — Sunday Services. — Girls" Lodging-House. — The Laundry. —Illustrative Cases. — Western Attractions. — Western Experiences 237 CHAPTER XII. EMIGRATION. The Home Rather than the Asylum. — Benefits of the Western Farm. — Promiscuous Emigration. — Miss Annie Macpherson. — A Diamond Picker. — Brain and Muscle. — Contrasts. — Indi- vidual Enterprise. — "A Home and a Hearty Welcome."' — Prac- . tical Questions. — Canadian Farmers. —"Arabs " not Little Angels. — Blessings of Emigi-ation. — Illustrative Cases. — -Annie and the Drunken Villain. — Testimony of the late Sir Charles Reed. — Another Sister of Merc}'. — Rev. J. Macpherson. — Good Training. — A Great Wish. — Lord Cavan. ^ — The Demand for Children. — Mr. Henry Varley. — "A Large, Fat, Beautiful Goose!"" — A Montreal Merchant"s Letter. — -Preparatory Work in England. — Boys and Girls Needed in Canada. — Room and a Hearty Welcome. — The Liverpool Scheme. — Mj' Opinion of Emigration. — The Pilgrim Fathers. — New York State"s Penal Code. — Systematic Emigration. — " Waiting and Watching "... 280 CHAPTER XIII. TRANSPLANTATIONS. The Plant and Human Life. — A AVestern Farmei's Letter. — Once a NcAV York Pauper. — How William and Mary Lived. — The Frozen Nose. — How thev Now Live. —The Drunken Mother. — The Good Warlv Opposed. — Train-Wreckers. — From the Or- phanage to the Bench. — Lucy is a Very Nice Girl, — Fortunate '"Arabs." — "Arabs" Owning Farms. — -William F. an M.D. — An Orphan"s Career. — A Stenographer, a Musician, and a Drug- gist. • — Great Emigration of Children from New York. — One Society's Report for 1882 numbers 3,957. —Pluck of G. W. S. — A Grateful Girl. — A Fortunate Condition in Life. — Illustrative xii COXTEXTS. Cases. — •• I Love these Friendless Childien for Jesus' Sake." — Miss Bilbrouii;h. — For Five Years a Street-Singer. — Toninij^ and Freddy 313 CHAPTER XIV. TIIANSFORMATIONS. The Canny Scotch Shepherd. — Human Pearls. — Future Transfig- uration. — Mr. and Mrs. H. Grattan Guinness. — Charley Maciuba Sitwana. — Natural Pantomime. — Clotlies -'Too HeaA^y! too Hot!'' — Thirst for Knowledge. — "'My Nose is Very HI." — " Give Wife and Monev! well! well!'' — Hearing of the White Animals. — Going to See the World. — Description of Kaffir Life. — ^The German Missionary. — Worshiping the Serpent. — Kaffir Code of Morality. — The Deserters. — Great London. — King Coftee. — A Cruel Deception. — Charlie's Teetotalism. — Search- ing for Utjebaz Ujojo. — The Brothers Meet. — Charlie a Heal Missionary. — Dublin "Arabs." — The Little Irish Boy. — The Pass-ticket. — '"John Three Sixteen." — His New Name. ^ The Boy's Delirium. — The •• Something Else.'' — The Nun's Beads. — The Young Missionary. — How Poor Children Suffer. — "Billy's Dead."— Nell's Idea of Heaven. —The Garret Bleak and Bare. — Nell Seeking the Eose. — "Just a Rose to take to Bill." — The Fretful Lady. — " Billy "s Dead, so is Billy's Sister Nell" 349 CHAPTER XV. INDIVIDUAL EFFORT. The Horse-leech. — Over Sixty Thousaiid A'ictiiiis of Intemperance. — Laodicean IndifTerencc. — A lioll of Distinguislied Names. — Personal Eft'ort. — Where are the Boasted Clianipions of Infidelity? — Christian Slavery ('?) — " Survival of the Fittest." — Resolu- tion of a Barefoot Boy. — Single-hearted Devotedness. — The Or- phan Homes of Scotland. — Rescue of Two Thousand Children. — Opposed to Endowments. — Children at Play. — The Home Idea Fully Carried Out. — A Ship upon the Meadow. —Canadian Farmers and Scotch Children. — Getting Equipped for the Jour- ney. — Personal Attention Recjuired. — Only One Hour for Per- son:d Business. — Three Hundred Tliousand Dollars in Answer to Prayer. — The City Home and Brhlge-of-Welr. — A Pliysician's Letter. —" What Hath God Wrought? " — Ninety-five per ceot. Doing Well 374 COXTENTS. xiii CHAPTER XVI. LOCAL CHARITIES. Emigration Not Always Practicable. — Cripples' Homes. — Family Life the True Principle. — Dr. Howe's Plea. — Children Should be Mothered. — The First Reformatory Institution on the Family Plan. — People at first Sceptical. — ■ Nineteen Years of Experi- ence. — Wonderful Success. — Penal System Modified. — Objec- tions Answered. — A Good Farm Needed. — A Good Location Near Markets Essential. — Everything Should be Made Educative and Pleasant. — Distinguishments in Dress Should be Avoided. — Make the boy Self-sustainhig. — The Home must be well Officered. — The Fountains of Influence. — Christian Gentlemen and Ladies. — Children's Charities in Towns and Villages. — What Neglected *• Arabs " Become. — Village Charities. — Girls Harder to Manage than Boys. — City Charities. — Half-time Schools. — New York Experience. — Day Industrial Schools. — Cleanliness and Indus- try. — Creches for Babies. — Lodging-Houses. — How Prepared. — "'Placing Out." — Must be Conducted with Great Caution. — Summer Homes. — -Summary of Work Done by Children's Aid Society. — Financial Status. — Effects on Crime. — Sanitary Results. — Report from Kansas. — The Work of one Extensive Charity 392 CHAPTER XVII. CAPTURING ARABS. / A Night on the Streets. — Our Fifth Boy. — " Artful Dodgers." — Mr. Fegan's Experience. — Tlie Key to Unlock a Boy's Heart. — Christian Ladies Well Qualified for the Work. — Remarks by the Earl of Shaftesbury. — Catching '"Arabs." — Barnardo's Meth- ods. — Midnight Wanderings. — How the Low Lodging-Houses are Supplied. — The Vilest Seed in Town. — The Doctor and the Deputy. — The Fever Patient. — Uncle Tom's Cabin. — "The Thief-look." — "Punch." — Punch's Interest in Uncle Tom. — Anxious to Read. — The Doctor's Proposal. — Punch not Con- vinced. — The Bargain Ratified. — An Educated Thief Most Dan- gerous. — Punch's Expertness Surprising the Doctor. — No Harm Done. — Sorry Sometimes. — " When you "re Caught." — Punch in a Passion. — An Awakened Conscience. — A New Creature. — Industry. — Change of Homes. — Marriage. — How Punch Be- came a Thief. — The Tempter. — - " I do the Liftiri'.'" — The Power xiv CONTENTS. of Money. — First Theft. — "Arabs'' Lost when not taken in Hand early. — The Expenditure of Crime and Reclamation Con- trasted 413 CHAPTER XVIII. SPECIMEN ARABS. Best Appearances Placed in Front. — Boston Culture. — Wendell Phillips and Dennis Kearney. — "Prim Talkey." — "Arab" Cheek. — Loquaciousness. — Astounding Answers. — The Per- plexed Traveler. — " Bully for the Buck-eye." — Talkey in a New Pole. — A Clergyman's Sensible Address. — Talkey a Perfect Humbug. — " Apple-Dumpling." — Why that Name. — Baby Talk. — An Affecting Tale. — Different from Most Street Juveniles. — The Dumpling Pitying Himself. — How He was Introduced to a Home. — "I Never, Never Steal'd Nothing." — His Two Homes. — Ragged Dick.— The Box Hotel. — " What "11 Johnny Nolan Say? *' — A Jolly Good Fellow. — Dick Fully Awake. — Pickety. — "Hain't Got No Name, Sir."' — Sleeping in the "Holler." — A Smile Overcoming the Wolf-feeling. — The Superintendent's Friendly Talk. — The Sleeping-Room. — "The Upper Ten."" — A Charitable Hotel-Waiter. — Pickety"s Earnings. — ^ Seeking to Please God. — Was it a Ghost? — Mino Whistles " Captain Jinks." — Getting Manners. — Farming a Splendid Business. — Pickety's Fears of Indians. — Interesting Letter. — Accumulating Property. — A Thriving Farmer 441 CHAPTER XIX. SAVE THE CHILDRP:N. A Lost '"Ittle Dirl." — Canon Farrar's Earnest Plea. — Who Fills the Gaps? — Shameful Neglect. — Accident. — Terrible Cruelty. — Absolute Death. — Besides there is Sin. — Save the Children. — Dr. Newton's Harrowing Story. — The Foaming Torrent. — "I saw them all Perish.''— The Real Trouble. —The Old Man's Tragic Tale. — Mourning a Mother and Wife. — "I Demanded Food."' — The Shocking Blow. —A Wild Laugh and Pleading Moans. — Frozen to Death. — The Raving Maniac. — " Sign it, Young Man, Sign it." — The Discovery. — A Word About Tramps. — Incurably Lazy. — A Field for the Home Missionary. — The Brave Hussar. — An Honored Soldier. — Charlie Ross. — The Countess of Belville. — Charlie"s Prayer. — The Missing I CONTENTS. XV Child. — A Sorrowing Mother. — Seeking Comfort from God. — The Young Sweep. — Anxious Questioning. — The Marvelous Discovery. — " My Child! My Child!" — Lady Belville's Chari- ties. — Dr. Pentecost's " Arab." — Wishing to be Gooder. — Changing Mastei'.s. — •"You Bet I Would!'' — Johnny's Prayer. —Are You Seeking to Save? 463 CHAPTER XX. ODDS AND ENDS. String Wanted. — Pickings and Stealings. — Self-denial. — The Little Black Girl. — "Cheer. Boys, Cheer!" — London Ragged-^ Schools. — Volunteer Teachers. — Powerlessness of Science. — " Science has no Morality." — Broussa Orphans. — Only Sample Cases. — Poem on Christian Liberality. — What a Schoolboy Saw. — The Sister's Love Letters. — The Parson a-Swellin' Up. — In- viting Jesus to Tea. — Female Orphanages. — Alone in London. — Mrs. Arden's Forgetfulness. — "Precious Promise." — The Mysterious Caller. — The Zulu "Arab." — Aim High. — Mr. Gough's Cigars. — " Feel o' that air Muscle ! " — Mr. Gough and Mr. Spurgeon. — The Sick Boy. — Mr. Spurgeon at his Greatest. — The Burned " Arab." — A Hard Case. — Only a Boy. — Bobby and the Breakfast. — Afraid of Being Born Again. — Be Brave, Boys. — The Christian Martyr Picture. — Japan "Arabs.'' — Wonderful Kites. — " Feast of Flags." — '' Feast of Dolls." — The Story-teller. — The Floating Duck. — The " Arab " is Sharp and Sly. — Paddy's Speech. — Another "Arab" Speech. — The Speaker's Departure for the West 487 ILLUSTRATIONS. The Child-Mother. (Frontispiece.) Page A Street Arab 22 A Gutter Snipe 25 Waifs 27 Tom 33 A Genuine Surprise 41 The Calm Trencherman 47 Bestowing Gifts 52 A Street Boy 56 Craving after Knowledge 59 A Doleful Quartette 62 A Chief Source of Arabism 67 Chalk-Sketching for a Living 72 A Regular Squall 75 An Officer's Discovery 82 The Homeless 85 An Ill-used Boy 87 In Despair 88 Unnatural Parents 90 Three Woolly Heads 94 Shirkers 98 Heroes 102 Squeaker 106 The Fortunes of a Street Waif 109 A Pickpocket Still < 115 Youthful Burglars 117 Boy Criminals 120 Old Joe 122 Yankee Puzzles 123 JoLLYiN' Poor Bili 126 X viii ILL US TEA TIONS. Page "Brisk an" Cheerful" 130 Turning a Somerset 137 Taken from Life 139 Fairly Trapped 142 Summoned Away 150 Brother and Sister Hescued 157 Factory Girls" Heads IGl Children's Heads 166 The Street Girl"s End 172 A Country Arab 178 The Chimney Sweep ' 180 Runaway Pig 182 The Silent Watcher , 186 A Drinking Mother 192 Homeless Children 194 The Loving Brother 196 An Arab Factory 201 The Street Boy's Bed 200 Industry • 212 Idleness 214 The Discovery 217 A Deputy 221 Joey's Protegee 224 Explanations 230 "Dead Rabbits'" and "Short Boys" 240 The Free Show 244 The Newsboy 248 The Christmas Tree 254 lodginci-houses as they are 257 Innocent Sleep 260 Children at Play 262 Applying for Lodgings 268 Poor Children Among Flowers 272 Little Miss Vanity 276 Transplantations 284 LODGING-IlOUSES AS THEY WeRK 289 ILL US TEA TIONS. xix Page The Exhausted Street-Sweeper 292 The Little Lamb 295 The Young Farmer 299 A Western Home 300 Rescued Gutter Snipes 304 An Adoption 307 From Street Life to a Home 311 A Transplanted Arab 315 A Happy Brother and Sister 317 Was He a Train-Wrecker? 321 The Reward of Industry 323 Adopted 326 Now AND Then 330 Past and Present 333 A Bonny Farmer's Boy 335 Rescued and Happy 342 A Kaffir Arab 351 "Come Unto Me" 357 Thirsting for Knowledge 363 "John Three Sixteen" 368 A Widowed Mother 376 A Chinese Arab 384 The Strep:t Boy on a Farm 387 Tickets for Charity Soup 393 Catching an Arab . 417 An Unrescued Arab 448 Sheltered 458 Somebody's Baby 472 Wanting to Learn . 490 Warned off by '' Livery" 496 CHAPTER I. DULY QUALIFIED. The title "Arab." — The Arab of the Desert. — Desert and City Bedouins. — Gutter Snipes. — ^YAIFS. — Children excite curiosity. — My First AVaif . — Society's Darkest Woes. — Perverted Charity. — An Irish Widow. —The Little Black-eyed Girl. — Gone for a AVatch. — "A Being of Beauty and a Joy Forever." — "Nobody's Children." — Poor Tom. — Tom in the Carriage. — The Frightened Lady. — Drunken Sal. — " Lem me ( >ut! " — Tom's Xew Suit. — Tom's Breakfast. — Tom's Home. ^PHE name " Arab," as applied to persons liowever outcast of christianized communities, is objected to by many. It sounds rough, uncharitable, offensive, and degrading. So say some who have the cause of our city waifs nearest their hearts : and who are most zealous in effort to reclaim these same poor children of error and neglect. Nevertheless, the title " Arab " is, in many respects, the most fitting that can be found. The " street Arab " is a very Bedouin in the midst of the thronging city multitude, manifesting many of those selfsame traits which so uniquely distinguish the veritable " child of the desert." From remotest periods the descendants of Ishmael have retained their peculiarities. Not more easily is the Jew recognized by his telltale countenance, than the Arab by his irrepressible characteristics. While many of these '•'■ sons of freedom " have applied themselves to trade or agriculture, the majority still roam tlie deserts in untram- nieled liberty. Poverty, even, is sweeter to them than confinement. Naturally they become warlike and j^reda- tory in their habits. Assuming that "all is fair in war,** they act upon the principle that "might makes right,*" whether it be the might of brute force, or savage cunning. The comforts and restraints of social and civil life are 22 STBEET ARABS AND GUTTER SNIPES. not ti) be compared with trusty weapons and a swift-going steed. Despising governments, they are yet controlled by their emirx, their sheiks, and their traditions. Ishmaelites by descent, they are Ishmaelites in disposition also ; their hand against every man, they trust no man thoroughly, save their own brotherhood. Uncertain, vindictive, and selfish, they are the source of apprehension to every traveler. Living in clans or hordes, for self-protec- tion, however, rather than for love's sake, their one pre-eminent object in life is subsistence — food, shel- ter, clothing. And so, like the original desert Bedouin, there is to be found in every large city a class of lads, whose aims, aspirations, habits, and methods, are the exact counterpart of tlieso we have described. Libert ij to such is grander than luxury. Victuals is the ulti- matum in every onslaught and every victory. It was therefore with acutest discernment, that, more than thirty years ago. Lord Shaftesbury discovered the resemblance. To this noble Earl, whose prolonged life of Christian useful- ness has been devoted to philanthropic efforts for the lapsed masses, we are indebted for the epithet, so unique and suggestive, of Street Arab. These nomadic tribes of the cities are indeed embryo Ishmaelites; having their own dialect, customs, and tra- :y^®'^/'''' A STREET ARAB. DVLY QUALIFIED. 23 ditioiis. (^f all sizes, all degrees of mental calibre, and all varieties of physical constitution, there is immense diversity among them ; though as a class having much in common, they may not be pronounced a unit. Their conduct fills one with indignation or with pity, or with alterna- tions of both. Though studiously ignorant of every proper mode of government, yet they have their own code of honor, and their own notions of justice. /From childhood V ih.ej prey ; and by experience learn to overcome might by cumiingT) They fear no one so much as the Policeman. Him they regard as an unmitigated nuisance — the chief hindrance to their success in life. When it was asked of one, " When your father and your mother forsake you, who will take you up?" the ready reply was "The perlice, sir." ^Y^t? unpromising as the soil is for fruitful harvest, these " Arabs," unlike those from whom they derive their name, --are capable of reclamation, and through patience and kind- ness are frequently transformed into worthy citizens. Gutter Snipes is the title wliich designates that class of children, who are too utterly weak, both mentally and jDhysically, to cope with the more sturdy "- Arab." Like snipes, they are creatures of suction. A garbage heap is frecjuently their source of supply to furnish them with the ever-coveted, always-needed " wittles," to meet the craving [ of gaunt hunger. "I ain't got the gripes yet," was the half-joyous, strange reply of a feeble little creature, when asked if she were hungry. " They comes the third day," was the additional information, when interrogated. ■ For two days this po(n- child had been elbowed from the barrels where scraps were to be found, and all the while had not tasted food. But with some measure of joy she thought of the terrible da}^ as not quite upon her, when the uns})aring "gripes" would tear her like a wild beast. Waif is more comprehensive — a term embracing many 24 STREET AliABS AND GUTTER SNIPES. grades of young unfortunates. The term in English law means "goods found of which the owner is not known." They were originally such goods as a thief, when pursued, threw away to prevent being apprehended. A tvaii\ then, \ /being something ownerless and unclaimed, the term has / easily become applicable to describe those children deserted j of their parents, as also those, possibly less fortunate, who I are uot deserted, but held of their unnatural parents or I guardians in a bondage more relentless and calamitous than 1 desertion. To denounce their unnatural parents will not V^save the child. Of what utility is it to anathematize the drunken father who refused to pay the dollar fine for his lad found guilty of hauling driftwood from the river, and allowed him to be incarcerated with hardened criminals, unless we can throw some arm of protection around that child, not literally orphaned but morally outcast ? Will he be less vicious after his coarse contact with vile ruffians, paying the due penalty for their own misdeeds in the common jail ? \ Though he be neither Arab nor Grutter Snipe, he needs friendly help and timely protection. But employ whatever terms we please, to designate these children, the fact remains the same. There are thousands of outcast boys and girls in every populous community. We may wrong them by gifts of money ; we may be partners with them in sin by acts of charity; a guide, not gold, is what they need. If, instead of hurrying onward, satisfied that our duty was discharged -when we dropped our dime into the extended j)alm, we delayed a moment to in([uire into the case of the child whose poverty seemed so apparent, we might find tlie clue by which to arrest incipient crime, or direct honest endeavor. Not that vohuitary charity shoidd be discouraged. But thought, time, and inquiry ought attend our liberal impulses. Then sliall we truly alleviate the temporal condition of our Street Arabs, and meet the demand of tlieir eternal interests. DULY QITALIFIED. 25 Sir Walter Scott remarked: "There is a curiosity im- planted ill our nature which receives much gratification from prying into the actions, feelings, and sentiments of our fellow- creatures." Children of the street excite my curio- sity to an intense degree. It matters not where the few ragged wide-awake urchins are congregated, they enlist my attention. I become concerned to know who they are and what the}'' do. My experiences with waif-life began in my early schoolboy days. Ill my native country it was our nightly habit to exchange visits with our neighbors' children. The evenings were passed in story-telling. Books of anecdote being much fewer, and less procurable, then than now, imagination was drawn upon and facts were often strangely exaggerated. Tlie natural volubility of the Irish tongue, along with the intense emotionalism of their nature, formed the desired requisites for the most distorted and brilliantly col- a gutter snipe. ored narration of those astounding legends with which the Irish mind is so well stocked. It will readily be appreciated how eagerly we youngsters waited for night- fall, when Micky or Bridget, the servants, would be through with their day's duties, and at leisure to entertain us Avitli narratives more wonderful than the exploits of the Arabian Nights. I had thus been one evening at a neighboring house until late, listening to the tales of an old grandmother, whose stories were more captivating than any my boyisli ears had heard. With imagination excited to white-heat, I departed for home. It was therefore with no small degree of terror that I heard a cry, breaking forth upon the stillness of the 26 STREET ABABS AND GUTTER SNIPES. country air out of thg shrubbery of the roadside. It was all the more startling since it was not at all such a voice or sound as my fevered fancy would have expected from those legendary ghosts whom I was half expecting I should en- counter on the way home. I had also good sense enough left me to discern that it was no call for assistance from any unfortunate benighted traveler. No ; it was rather the piteous wail of a tender laml), deserted of its dam, or maybe entangled in the briars unable to extricate itself. Believing this latter conjecture, I made all speed for my house. En- listing the sympathy of the household, we started with lanterns for the rescue. Our search was brief, when suddenly from our midst, out of the bushes, arose the same plaintive cry as of a feeble lost lamb. We parted the brambles, and there in utter helplessness lay the little weakling — not a lamb, hut a babe, the first waif upon whom I ever gazed. Since then I have tramped city streets from nightfall to gray dawn, in search of outcast children. I have encoun- tered them in- ever}- circumstance of squalor, and disease, and desertion. But never since have I been so overpowered with awe, or so exercised with anguish, as in the presence of that first forsaken child my youthful eyes beheld. I have a firm conviction that that one premature vision awoke in my heart the sympathy and interest in street children which, in some degree, has attended all my later years. That one im- pression of parental inhumanity was to make its indelible mark upon my mind ; revealing to me the inner cause, the bitter core of societ3''s darkest woes, namely : the neglect, evil training, and abandonment of helpless childhood. Tt is becoming a universal belief that the reform and eleva- y^4ion of street " Arabs " is no longer Utopian. Happily we Tiave abundant illustrations from many sources that it is a wise economy to labor in this direction. A frigid conserva- tism may criticise mistaken zeal, but as we learn wisdom DULY QUALIFIED. 1^7 r from past blunders, and mistakes add to the sum of knowl- edge, the coldly cautious are at fault. We admit it is a true saying that " Charity creates much of the misery that it relieves, but it does not relieve all the misery ^ that it creates.'* An indiscriminate charity may pauperize, and an unsystematic philan- thropy neutralize, its own ideal ; nevertheless, we are not guiltless of our brothers' blood by allowing the juice of charity to dry up within us through fear of de- ception. The ministry • of mercy is a delight- ful exercise. It is mor- ally healthy, and be- speaks a liidden spring whose waters fail not. " He that seetli his bro- ther have need, and shuttetli up his boAvels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?" It is economical to be cliari- VVAII-b. table. He saves most who gives most ; we live by giving ; we stagnate by with- holding. Carlyle furnishes the following quotation from Alison's "Management of the Poor in Scotland," which illustrates my meaning : — 28 STREET ARABS AXD GUTTER SNIPES. A poor Irish widow, her husband having died in one of the lanes in Edinburgh, went forth with her three children to solicit help from the charitable establishments of that city. She was refused, referred by one to the other, helped by none, till she had exhausted them all, till her strength and heart failed her. She sunk down in typhus fever, died, and infected her lane with fever, so that seventeen died of fever in consequence. The humane physician thereupon, as with a heart too full for speaking, asks, "Would it not have been economy to help this poor widow ? She took typhus fever and killed seventeen of you." The forlorn Irish widow applies to her fellow-creatures, as if saying, "Behold,! am sinking ; bare of help ; ye must help me. I am 3'our sister, bone of your bone ; one God made us ; ye must help me." They answer, " No, impossible, thou art no sister of ours." But she proves lier sisterhood. Her typhus fever kills them. Tliey actually were her brothers, though denying it. We liave not far to travel in order to discover the real objects of our charity. I do not however encourage an im})ulsive random visitation. "• Let all things be done decently and in order." "Arabs" and "gutter snipes " are at our doors. Literally they are near at hand. A gentleman addressing a meeting, where opulence and luxury reigned supreme, narrated a discovery made by himself: — I remember entering recently into one of the houses, not half a mile from where I am standing at this moment, and I caught a little black-haired, black-eyed girl. I believe she would have been very pretty if I could have seen through the dirt. She was running about, and I hailed her. I began to talk to her. In the first instance there was a slight sign of civil war, but when she became thoroughly aware of the fact that I was not a policeman, and that I did not mean any DULY QUALIFIED. 29 injury to lier, and that I had kindly feelings for her, she became amenable, and the conversation took something like this form : ''Well, lassie, where do you live?" She flung back her tangled hair, and looked me up right in the face, and said, " O, about," and she pointed round to the some- what offensive court in which I was standing. T said, " Where did you sleep last night ? eh, lassie ? " " O, there ; on that stair," and she pointed to a door — not a door, but a doorway, for the door had disappeared. There was no sign of it, and there Avere rickety stairs going up into the lirst floor. I said, " Do you mean on the stair just there ?" She said, " Yes." I said, " Well, but where does your father live?" " O, father!" she said; "I haven't got one" " But,'' I said, " is your father dead ? " " No," she said ; " I never had one." I did not pursue that any further, but I then tried with regard to her mother. I said, "Well, but where is your mother ? " She said, " O she 's gone." " Gone ! Gone where ? " " O, for a watch." I rather blame myself. I think it was a little bit stupid, but I said, "■ Gone for a watch ! What do you mean?" Without a moment's hesitation she showed me that she had gone for a watch, in the sense of having been sent to prison for stealing one. Then I said, " Does nobody take care of you ? How do you feed ? Who gives you food, my child ? " She said, " O anybody — sometimes." I looked at the child. I doubted in my own mind whether it was better or worse for her for her mother to come back, bad as it seems to you and me, who have had noble and godly parents, and who, ourselves, are perhaps trying, humbly but faithfully in the fear of God, to do our duty by our children who are following. It seems a horrible thing to say, yet it is very likely — almost too true — that the position of those that are orphans is better than the position of those who have got such parents as many of those children have. Is there anything in this 30 STiiKirr ajiabs and gutteh smpes. world brighter and haudsoiner than a bright-faced boy? Notliing, 1 believe, at all, except, perhaps, a bright-faced girl. Is there anything more beautiful than to see such a child as that dragged out of the gutter, to see the frown which hard- ship has planted upon the face — so young, so unnaturally young — 1)}' degrees smooth away ; to see the suspicion grad- ually plucked out of the eyes ; to see the smile become gradually natural to the face; and to see how, in the course of weeks, or a few months at the outside, there has been an entire translation in that child from what it was — downcast, down-trodden, des[)ised, and dangerous — into a being of beauty and a joy forever? ( )f this class of "Nobody's children," Sir Charles Keed remarks: — "The thousands of venders, newspaper -boys, street- sweepers, and what not, if within age, are individually known, and their school attendance closely watched. But, beyond these, we have a crowd of half-famished, half-naked children, who prowl about alleys and railway arches, fruit- markets and the river foreshore, and the difficulty of press- ing them into school is almost insuperable. They are no man"s children, and live on \w man's land ; they deny their age, give false addresses, and pass over the boundary so as to elude the vigilance of the school-board oiificers."' Do not be shocked, my good reader, to hear that children of want, of sin, and woe, are alas I too numerous. The}' are found everywhere ; the earnest laborer will soon find out their haunts and will succeed in alluring them to a better condition and a higlier life. Oh I do not gatlier your skirts, or repel from your touch one of these little ones. If they cross your pathway, accept it as a task to be kindly luider- taken — their reclamation, or at least their release, from the burden of poverty or ignorance. You will not fail to DULY QUALIFIED. 31 be interested in the following pathetic story of Poor Tom and his strange career : — O, but it was cold ! freezing, biting, bitter cold I and dark too ; for the feeble gas-lights, leaping and flaming as the gale whistled by, hardly brightened the gloom a dozen paces around them. The wind tore through the streets as if it had o'one mad ; whirlino' before it dust and snow, and every movable thing it could lay its clutching hand upon. A poor old battered kite, that, some time last autumn, had lodged far up in the tallest tree in the neighborhood, and had there rested peacefully ever since, believing its labors at an end, was snatched, dragged from its nest, and driven unpityingiy before the blast. Some feeble efforts it had made to dodge into corners, lurking behind steps and diving into areas ; but not a bit of it I Down would swoop the wind, and off it would go again. At last, driven round one of a long row of barrels, that stood like wretched sentinels along the sidewalk's edge, it flew into the very arms of a small boy, who, seated on the curbstone, crouched down in a barrel's somewhat (|uestion- able shelter. Such a very small boy ! He looked like notliing in the world but a little heap of rags ; and the rags were very thin, and the small boy was very cold. His nose, his ears, his hands, and his poor bare feet were blue. He was almost too cold to shiver, certainly too cold to notice the unfortunate kite, which, as its enemy the wind approached with a roar, seemed to cower close to him, as if begging his protection; Round both sides of the barrel at once came the wind, shook hands right through poor little Tom, and, howling with delight, rushed ofl^ with its miserable victim. " Tom " — that was all the name he had. Who he was, or where he came from, no one knew, except perhaps the wretched old woman with whom he lived: which meant that 32 STUEET ABABS AXD G UTTEll SNIPES. she let him sleep upon a pile of rags on the floor of her miserable room, and sometimes gave him a crust, and oftener a blow. When she was drunk — and that was the greater part of the time — Tom took to the streets ; and to-night she was very drunk. The boy Avas perhaps some six years old; but as he cowered down on the cold flagstones, with his worn, pinched face and drooping head, he might have been sixty. A carriage came rattling through the icy street, and stopped close by him. The door was pushed open, and two children half tumbled out, and, leaving the door swinging, rushed up the steps. Tom watched them stupidly, heard the quick, sharp ring of the bell, caught a glimpse of some- thincf that looked verv bright and warm, and then it was dark again. .He turned his eyes towards the carriage, expecting it to drive off again ; but it still stood there. The coachman sat upon the box like a furry monument. One of the horses struck the stones sharply with his iron hoofs, and cast an incjuiriiig glance round, but the monument sat unmoved. Tom's heav}^ eyes looked through the open door into the carriage. Dark as it Avas, he could see that it was lined with something thick and warm. He raised his head and glanced about him. If he were inside there the wind could not touch him. O, if he only could get away from it one min- ute ! He would slip out again the moment the house-door opened. Unbending his stiff little body, he crept nearer, hesitated a moment, and, as the wind came round the corner with a roar, slipped swiftly and noiselessly into the carriage. In the further corner of the seat he curled himself into a little round heap, and lay, with beating heart, listening to the wind as it swept by. It was very quiet in his nest, and the soft veh et was much warmer than the cold flagstones, and he was very tired "When she was drunk, Tom took to the streets." (Page 32.) DULY QUALIFIED. 35 and very cold, and in half a minute he was sound asleep. He did not know when at last the house-door opened, and a lady, gathering her cloak closely around her, came down the steps — did not know even when the suddenly animated monument descended from its pedestal and stood solemnly by the open door until the lady had stepped inside. But when it shut with a slam, and the coachman, returning to the box, drove rapidly away, the boy's eyes opened and fixed their frightened gaze upon the lady's face. Preoccu- pied with her own thoughts, she had not noticed the queer bundle in the dark corner. But now, her attention attracted by some slight movement on his part, she turned her eyes slowly towards him, and then, with a suppressed cry of surprise and alarm, laid her hand upon the door. The rattle of the wheels and the roar of the wind prevented its reaching the ears of the coachman ; and Tom, rapidly unwinding himself, and cowering down in the bottom of the carriage, said, with a frightened sob : — " I did n't mean no luirm. O, I was awful cold. Please, just open the door, an' I '11 jump out." The lady, with her hand still on the door, demanded : — " How did you get here '? " "The door was open, an' I clum in," he answered. ''It was awful cold." The lady took lier hand from the door. " Come nearer," she said. " Let me see your face." Tom drew his ragged sleeve across his eyes, and glanced up at her with a scared look over his shoulder. They had turned into a brilliantly lighted street, and she could see that the tangled yellow hair was soft and fine, and that the big, frightened eyes that raised themselves to hers were not pickpocket's eyes. With a sudden impulse she laid her gloved hand lightly on the yellow head. " Where do you live ? " she asked. 36 STBEET ABABS AND GUTTEB SNIPES. Something in the voice and touch gave him courage. " With Sal," he answered, straightening up — " me an' some other fellows. Sometimes we begs, sometimes we earns. When we get a haul it ain't so bad, but when we don't we ketch it. She 's drunk to-night, an' she drove us out." She pushed the heavy hair back from his forehead. " Is she your mother ? " the lady asked. " No ! " cried the boy, almost fiercely ; and then added, sullenly, " I ain't got none." Slowly the gloved hand passed back and forth over the yellow hair. The lady's eyes were looking far away ; the boy's face was like, so strangely like another face. " Are you hungry?" she asked, suddenly. The wide-open gray eyes would have answered her with- out the quick sob and low '' Yes 'm." The carriage stopped, and the monument, again accom- plishing a descent, opened the door, and stood staring in blank amazement. " I am not going in, John," said his mistress. " Drive home again." And she added, smiling, '■' This little boy crept in out of the cold while the carriage was waiting. I am going to take him home. Drive back as <|uickly as possible." As the bewildered coachman shut the door and returned to his perch, the boy made a spring forward. " Lem me out I " he cried. " I don't want to go home. Lemme out ! " '•'■ Not your home," said tlie lady, gently — " my home." Tom stared at her in wonder, and, too much overcome by the announcement to resist, let her lift him up on the seat beside her. " My lionie," she repeated, " where you can get very warm, and have a good dinner, and a long, long sleep, on a soft bed. Will you like that?" DULY QUALIFIED. 37 Tom drew a long, slow breath, but did not answer. It was too wonderful ! He — one of Sal's boys ! — to go to the lady's house where the children lived whom he had seen go in that evening! He looked up suddenly. "Were those children your 'n ? " he asked. Witli a sudden move- ment she drew him very closely to her, and then answered, softly : — " No, not mine. I had a little boy once, like you, and he died." When the carriage stopped again, Tom was fast asleep — so fast asleep that the still bewildered coacliman carried him into the house and laid him on a bed without waking him. The next morning, when the boy's eyes opened, he lay look- ing about him, hardly daring to speak or move. I don't believe he had ever heard anything about fairies, or he would certainly have thought himself in fairyland. Best of all, the lady of the night before was standing by the bed smiling at him, and, smiling back, he held out his arms to her. I wish you could have seen him a little later, when, arrayed in jacket and trousers that made him think with disdain of certain articles of the same description which he had but yesterday gazed at lovingly as they dangled before old Isaac's dingy second-hand shop, he sat before a little table by the sunny window, taking a short, a very short, preliminary view of a gigantic beefsteak, still indignantly sputtering to itself, a inountain of smoking potatoes, an imposing array of snowy rolls and golden butter, and a pitcher of creamy milk. And I wish, too, you could have seen the same table still later ; for the table was about all that was left. That was the first time that I ever saw Tom. Since then I have seen him very often. And now I will tell you, only I am afraid you will hardly believe me, about the last time, 38 STREET ABABS AXD GUTTER SNIPES. and that was not very long ago. I was riding along one of the prettiest country roads you ever saw, and when I came to a certain gate my horse, without waiting for a sign from me, turned in. As we drew near the house I caught sight of two tigures standing among the flowers. One was a handsome old lady with white hair, the other a young man. She was armed with an immense pair of shears and he held in his hand his hat fllled to the brim with flowers. The sun- light, creeping down through the trees, fell upon his close- cropped hair and yellow beard. As I drew in my horse and sat watching them, it all seemed to me like a fairy story. But it was n't ; for the tall, handsome man looking down with such protecting tenderness upon the white-haired oki lady was reall}' Tom — poor, little, thin, cold, hungry Tom. CHAPTER 11. SURPRISES. Pleasure of Surprises. — " Be You God's Wife?" — Crackling's Secret. — Watching Customers. — "Plain Plum or Curran'?" — Bolting a Choice Morsel. — '■ Cold Suetty." — Crackling Goue Mad. — The Gaunt Man of Pride. — "God Bless You for Such Goodness to a Stranger." — Crackling Victimized. — Endless Freaks and Multiplied Dodges. — My Boy, and Pie-Eulogy. — My Surprise. — Arabs' Phraseol- ogy. — What is True Charity? "ly /TANY charitable persons indulge in the habit of surpris- ing. It is pure enjoyment to them when they over- whelm the recipient b}' the suddenness, or munificence, of their gifts. Such a ministry David exercised toward Mephib- osheth when he suddenly announced to liim an unexpected blessing. " Fear not, for I will surely show thee kindness for Jonathan thy father's sake, and will restore thee all the land of Saul thy (grand) father; and thou shalt eat bread at my table continually" (2 Sam. ix). How excited we have been while opening the box, or barrel, or package, sent by some unknown donor. When the unexpected check dropped out of the letter ; or the friendly face we supposed at a distance smiled upon us as we lay on our sickbed ; or when in some other form of kindness we were overtaken by surprise, we may not have immediately thought of the unalloyed pleasure such a ministry gave to the bene- factor. This is indeed a royal enjoyment. Nor is it an indulgence confined to possessors of large means. Large capital is not needed in order to, secure happiness to our- selves and others. A few pennies laid out with economy will procure comfort and help for at least one poor child. Kindly feeling should accompany kindly deeds. We need not treat the subject of our charity as an offensive beggar, nor crush out his finer feelings with an ungenerous growl. 40 STllEEr AHABS AXD iiUTTElt SXIPES. The manner of doing is often greater than the deed per- formed. More pathetic than anything I ever heard was the strange question of a hungry child, put to a lady Avho had abundantly relieved her pressing wants. The sweet pity of the kind donor was more surprising than her thoughtful gift. Receiving the choice food so suddenly placed in her hand as she stood shivering on the streets, the child asked, with wondering eyes : " Be you God's wife, ma'am ? " If the neglected maiden had no recollections of human love, or human goodness, she learned correct theology from some teacher. The waif must have had the gospel description of God, for "• God is love," and she could only surmise that a divine being had come at last to pity and to aid her. Mr. James Greenwood, of Casual Ward fame, a very philanthropist, whose narrations of experiences among the lower classes have led to many practical reforms, relates the following illustration of this surprising ministry : — Crackling himself was as jealous of his "secret" as though lasting disgrace would have been his portion had it been discovered, and the amazement and vexation visible on his jolly round face,, when, accompanied by a friend at noon of Christmas day, I entered his shop and boldly taxed him with it, would not l)e easy to describe, whereas the real wonder was that it had not leaked out years before. It was simply as follows : Compassionating tlie melancholy and down-heartedncss of those whose hard fate it was to go dinnerless on the day of all days when most folk were feast- ing, he had hit on an ingenious expedient to give comfort to some few of them, at any rate. His shop, though situated in a prosperous highway, is in the vicinity of an exceedingly poor "back" neighborhood. He had observed that on Christmas day more than at any other time the handsome array of eatables displayed in his Avindow attracted the atten- A GENUINE SURPRISE. suBFEisi:s. 43 tion of " liard-iip " wayfarers. From his place behind the counter it was his custom with his wife to kee}) a sharp look-out for the most manifestly miserable of these Avindow- gazers, and without ceremony to beckon them in and sit them down to what he called a "fair tuck-in" of roast-beef and plum-pudding. There was not very much doing in the ordinary way of business at his establishment on Christmas, and for the respectable and paying class of customers there were the dining-rooms upstairs. The place set apart for his impecunious guests was the space at the back of the shop, where there are several compartments calculated to accommo- date ten or a dozen sitters, the occupants of each box being screened from the observation of adjoining diners by means of a short red curtain ringed overhead to a l)rass rail. My companion and myself occupied the Itox nearest the shop, from whence, without being seen, Ave had a view of the win- dow; and the compartments being divided one from the other only by a thin partition, it was easy for a listener to overhear any conversation that might be going on amongst his neighbors. Punctually at twelve o'clock, though more, I Ijelieve, as a lure for that particular class of guests the benevolent cook- shop-keeper had foremost in his mind than in the ordinary way of business, there was brought up from the kitchen a weighty and handsome joint of ribs-of-beef, deliciously fragrant and browned and garnished with horse-radish, and a couple of prodigious Christmas puddings, one of which, ornamented with a sprig of holly, was placed on either side of the beef. Within the first ten minutes several regular customers came in and Avere passed upstairs by the Avaiter, but it was fully twenty minutes before any of the hungry fish for Avhcnn the AvindoAV Avas specially baited put in an appearance. It neA^er rains l)ut it pours, they say, and when at last 44 STBEET AR'ABS AND G VTTER SXIPES. they arrived it was in a batch of three. They scarcely could be called chaiue ])assers-by, however : nor were the}', strictly speaking, penniless. They were three boys, dirty, tattered, and pinched with the cold, and it was easy at a glance to discover what occupation they followed. The youngest, who was a capless, shoeless little wretch, certainly not more than eight years old, had a " cigar-light " box tucked under his arm ; another, a couple of years elder perhaps, who car- ried the stump of a birch-broom ; Avhile the third, who was the eldest and the liungriest, looking the most decently dressed, held in his hand a few newspapers — dismally ''dead"' stock, considering the day and the hour. The faces of Mr. and ]\Irs. Crackling liglited up as though the impending good-fortune was theirs instead of the trio of poor little ragamuffins ; and Crackling, from beliind his hand, whispered to us, " Keep your eye on "em, they 're the sort." We did as requested, as well as the steam on the -svindow-pane would permit. It A\as evident that urgent and anxious debate was going on amongst them. They scrutinized the tempting display closely and critically, but apparently with much more of disappointment than admiration ; they seemed to be looking for sonu^thing that was not there. What it was was presently made known, for the boy with the old broom stepped in, chinking halfpence in his hand. "Ain't vou got no plain, mister ?"" lie inquired of Mr. Cracklintv. With an unmoved coTUitenance that wortliv tradesman shook his head. " Plain plum or curran", 1 mean,"" pursued the " crossing " boy ; "• any sort '11 do."" "We don't keep plain sorts on Christmas day,"" said Crackling ; " only the rich kind — this sort,"" and lie indicated one of the luscious spheres with the holly-sprig stuck in it. " You can have a few penn'orth of that if you like ; it 's dear, but it's beautiful — taste it." SUHPBISES. 46 And lie helped the boy with the broom with a piece as large as a walnut, while his two friends outside, with their noses pressing the window-pane, stared at him with their mouths agape in wonder and amazement. The delicious morsel was hot, but, rashly eager to realize all its delights, the boy '■'bolted'" it, and it burnt his throat. But he didn't mind that. •• How much of it," he gasped, and with tears in his eyes, "how much of it for threepence?" Mr. Crackling cut off a i)ortion not more than three times larger than the tasting piece. " That 's threepenn'orth," said he. The broom-boy's countenance fell. "• A jolly lot o' good that '11 be for three hungry coves," he remarked ; " we 've on"y got threepence amongst us." " Then I tell you what," said Mr. Crackling, with perfect seriousness, '' I 've got some cold suet-pudding left from yesterday, and I can serve you with a good threepenn'orth of that if you like, and, being Christmas day, I don't mind you and the other two chaps sitting down here to eat it." The broom-boy retired for a moment to make known the proposition to his friends, and how thankfully it was accepted was betokened by the promptitude with which they all three came in. " Go and sit in the end box,"* said Mr. Crackling, " and I '11 send it to you."" They did as they were bid, and we could hear them whispering together. Tlie two who had remained outside plied the broom-boy with eager questi(jns concerning the " liker "" of plum-pudding they had seen Mr. Crackling give him, and, with the flavor of it still tingling his palate, he described his sensations from the instant it touched his lips till it was gone, prematurely engulfed, in terms that made them smack their lips audibly. They wondered how much 46 STREET ARABS AND GUTTER SNIPES. of " cold suett V " they would get for their threepence, and argued from the cookshop-man's kindness in asking them in to sit down, that they should probably get " a whackin' lot " for their money. Meanwhile Mr. Crackling was gener- ously filling their hot plates with l)eef, and pudding, and baked potatoes, and cabbage ; and wheii all were ready the waiter, who was a lanky young man, with no doubt a good appetite of his own, but who nevertheless evidently experi- enced some difficulty in concealing his disgust, carried the dinners to where the expectant three sat. We raised a tiny corner of our curtain that we might witness the effect as the waiter proceeded to lift the plates from his tray and to place them. The boys gazed in speech- less amazement at the attendant, with mouths ajar, and then, like boys half awakened from a dream, they looked at each other. The poor hungry-looking newspaper-boy turned white as a sheet, and the newspapers he had tucked into the bosom of his jacket rustled with his trembling. The crossing-sweeper was the first one to recover the faculty of speech. He lifted his plate from the tablecloth back on to the tray. " You '11 get yourself into a jolly row, young feller," said he to the waiter, in a severe undertone. " Take 'em away to them that ordered 'em, good luck to yer, before the guvner sees yer. Ourn 's three of cold suetty." " Yours is what 's giv' you," returned the waiter, haughtily, but not loud enough for Mr. Crackling to overhear him, "an' don't (-heek me, so I tell you." And he was flouncing out of the box when the broom-boy laid a detaining hand on the tails of his coat. " There 's sumniat wrong, I tell you," he exclaiuK'd. '• Hi, mister ! " This last to Mr. Crackling, wlio immediately came for- ward. He walked up to the table, and without anything SUBPBISES. 47 in his countenance to provide them with the least clue to the mystery, in full vie\Y of them and their plates, remarked, " If you three boys don't keep quiet and get on with your dinners, I shall have to be angry with you, and you won't 'like that, I promise you." There could be no mistake about it. The roast-beef and plum-pudding were intended for them, and, as Mr. Crackling retreated, the newspaper-boy remarked, in a nervous wliisper, to the broom-boy, who had turned back his cuffs, "What are you goin' to do?" "I'm a-goin' to get on with my lot an' chance it," was the sturdy response, " an' you " (this to the cigar-light boy) " do the same, young un, while it 's 'ot." " But what 's the reason of it ? " " Gone mad, I should think," returned the broom-boy, bolting a baked })otato. "But," gasped the timid young news- vender, " s'pose he was to come to liis senses again before we 're done ? " " He '11 have to change very sudden if he comes to his senses before I 've done," retorted the calm trencherman, speaking through a mouthful of plum-pudding ; "get on, an' don't jaw so much, that's a good feller." At that moment a short couyh from Mr. Cracklino- caused US to look shop ward, and in time to discern at the street side of the shop-window a gaunt in