Horatio Alger - Julius, The Street Boy

This was the letter:

“To My Friend and Benefactor: 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’ Lodging 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 peddled. 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 pictorials to read, especially the Newsboys’ Pictorial , 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,

“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 vagrants, many, doubtless, tenants 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 persevere. I feel like helping 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.”

Though there was plenty of excitement and novelty attending the journey, Julius and his companions looked forward with eager interest to the hour when they would reach their destination. Where were they to live, and what sort of homes would they obtain? These were questions which naturally arose in the minds of all.

Hour after hour the train sped onward with its living freight. The boys looked out upon the broad fields, smiling in the sunlight, and bright-looking villages scattered along the route, and wondered if their future homes would look anything like them.

At last the moment approached when their curiosity was to be gratified.

“Boys, the next town is Brookville,” said Mr. O’Connor, passing through the cars.

“Are we goin’ to stop there?” asked Teddy.

“Yes; that is where we get out of the cars.”

Soon a large village came in sight. It was quite thickly settled, and the streets were broad and regular. The boys could see various public buildings, besides a large number of dwelling houses. The place looked quite attractive, and the boys’ faces lighted up with pleasure.

“I say, Teddy,” said Julius, “Brookville’s a nice place.”

“Don’t look much like New York,” said Teddy, dubiously.

“Of course it don’t. The country ain’t like the city, stupid.”

“I guess it’s a pretty good place,” said Teddy. “I hope we’ll live near each other.”

“I hope so, too; but maybe not. You may live somewhere else.”

“Shan’t we all live here?”

“No; I heard Mr. O’Connor say we’d be scattered around among the towns, but I’m goin’ to live here.”

“How do you know you are?”

“‘Cause I’ve got a letter to Mr. Taylor’s nephew. He lives in Brookville.”

“P’rhaps he’ll want two boys.”

“Maybe he will.”

“What’s that?” asked Teddy, as the sound of music was heard.

“It’s a band—don’t you see it?—on the platform. What a crowd of people!”

“Boys,” said Mr. O’Connor, “that music is for you. The citizens have come out to welcome you. Now I will tell you what you must do. You will follow me out of the cars as soon as the train stops, form two by two on the platform, and then you may swing your hats, and shout, ‘Three cheers for Brookville!’ Will you do it?”

“All right, sir,” said the boys, eagerly.

They were already within a few rods of the station. Speed was already slackened, and in a moment the cars had stopped.

“Now, boys, form in line after the other passengers have left the car,” said the superintendent. “Then follow me.”

His directions were carefully followed, and in five minutes the little company were drawn up on the platform. Many curious eyes were fixed upon them by those who had come to meet them, and some were already selecting those whom they desired to adopt.

“Now, boys,” said the superintendent, when order was obtained, “what have you to say to the ladies and gentlemen who have been kind enough to come here to meet you?”

“Three cheers for Brookville!” shouted Tim Shanter, who, it had been agreed, should act as leader.