CHAPTER XXII.At one of the auxiliary meetings the vice-president of the association, who was always practical in his talks to the boys, gave a little advice to the sellers.It is worth remembering.“Boys,” he said, “rain or shine be at your post, at your corner. Never be out of papers, and never be out of change. Many a good boy who needs money loses a sale for want of having change. Keep your eye peeled. If a man wants a paper, you should see it, though he is a square away. I know of one little boy, smaller than those who were selling with him, who always saw a customer a block away, and when the evening’s work was over he generally had ten to twenty cents to the clear more than others. Be polite and always cheerful. Keep your face and hands clean, and you will get many an extra nickel. If you are polite and civil you will get a regular line of customers who will always wait for you. Thank everyone who buys a paper. Tip your hat to the ladies and they will speak well of you when they get home. Any little favor you can do for a manor woman on the street (and not look as though you expect something), will always bring you business. The wind blew off the hat of a gentleman one day, and a little seller saw it. Quick as a flash he ran after it, took his own cap to wipe the dirt off the gentleman’s hat, and handed it to him. The gentleman said: ‘How many papers you got?’ ‘Twenty-four, sir,’ said the boy. ‘Give them all to me.’”On the membership card it reads: “He does not approve of swearing, etc.”A probation member, a boy who received his membership card, and had thirty days to wait for his badge, brought an old member to the president, one evening, with this plea.“President, this boy swears like hell. I heard him on the corner.”“Aw, what you given us, you swear yourself.” replied the accused.“Yes that’s all right. Tell me something; how would I know what swearing was if I didn’t know something about it,” proudly answered the new member.“Well, you have no right to bring me here and accuse me of doing what you yourself do. Read your card, kid, read your card.”FIRST SALE OF THE DAY.Without showing any signs of worry, the little fellow said.“President what can you expect of a bationist. When I get my badge things will be different. I cuts swearing out then.”“Yes, but you better wait instead of buttin in before you are a live member,” said the carrier.They talked some time about the matter between themselves and finally they locked arms, slowly walked out of the office saying:“Guess we better cut out swearing all around.”The following story illustrates a good method of treating boys who disobey their parents. It may not meet the approval of many fathers and mothers, but the sequel has in it the success of the work among the street-boys. We regret that we cannot give due credit to the author for the suggestions embodied in the story.A young boy was left alone in the yard to play. Everybody had gone and left the house in his care. He was given the key and told not to enter the house until the family returned. After a while he became tired of the birds, the flowers, the the trees, the sunshine. The spirit of disobedience entered into him and slowly he took hisway to the house. He unlocked the door. The first thing met his eye was his father’s razor. He had always been forbidden to touch it. But the spirit of license ran riot in his veins, and in using it he cut his face until the blood trickled down. Next he made his way to a matchbox. He had always been told to let it alone. He first built fences with matches on the floor, then fires under the lace curtains. A hole in the carpet, ruined curtains and his fingers blistered was the result. Suffering with pain and ashamed of his disobedience he steals out under the trees, and like Adam in the garden, he thought he could hide his sins by hiding himself. So he stole away and crawled under some bushes. When his father came home, discovered the ruined articles, he thought, what can be done to restore and mend that which his boy had broken, had ruined? His razor was broken, but he could buy a new one. His matches were consumed, but he could buy more. The curtains and carpet were defaced by fire, but they could be replaced and repaired. Wealth could repair the damage done to the house and make all as before. Skill and nature could repair the wrong done to the hand and the face, and make them as they were before.But where were the riches and where was the teacher that could make the boy’s heart as it was before his disobedience? None could be found. Let me tell you what happened. The father came not to upbraid, but to entreat; not to chastise, but to weep; The child’s hand was burned, the father’s heart was broken. The boy cried for shame, the father cried for sorrow. The father put his arms about the boy and with his head upon his breast together they sobbed out their sorrow. One part of it was the boy’s confession, and the other part of it was the father’s pain. Together they made a new resolution and hand to hand, and heart to heart, and love to love, they began together to repair the ruin that had been wrought.During the early stages of a boy’s membership he is constantly reminded that some day he will leave the street, he will seek employment elsewhere, and his start in a business life depends upon his street work. To illustrate this teaching, a boy found a small child’s savings bank. It was filled with money, small coin; and it was heavy. It was picked up on the street over a mile from the president’s office. As soon as found, the boy started on a run, as they always do, for theoffice. It was delivered with the usual instruction “to please find the owner.” To try the newsie the president called him aside and said, in a confidential whisper: “Why didn’t you sneak around the corner, into an alley, any place where no one could see you, and take a stone break the old bank all to pieces, take the money, and, my, what a good time you could have had.”The boy quickly replied: “No, sir, Mr. President, suppose I wanted a job, and stood in line to be questioned by the man, and he would ask, have you always been honest? What would I say? Why! my face would show I did something wrong—I took a little bank from some poor boy, and he would say, I don’t want a boy I would have to be afraid of; no that don’t belong to me.”This plainly shows what can be successfully impressed upon the minds of these hustling, seemingly thoughtless, street-boys. And when the owner of that bank proved to be a little girl—and how happy she was when it was found and returned to her, the boy said: “I would rather have the girl’s smiles than all the money the bank contained.”
CHAPTER XXII.At one of the auxiliary meetings the vice-president of the association, who was always practical in his talks to the boys, gave a little advice to the sellers.It is worth remembering.“Boys,” he said, “rain or shine be at your post, at your corner. Never be out of papers, and never be out of change. Many a good boy who needs money loses a sale for want of having change. Keep your eye peeled. If a man wants a paper, you should see it, though he is a square away. I know of one little boy, smaller than those who were selling with him, who always saw a customer a block away, and when the evening’s work was over he generally had ten to twenty cents to the clear more than others. Be polite and always cheerful. Keep your face and hands clean, and you will get many an extra nickel. If you are polite and civil you will get a regular line of customers who will always wait for you. Thank everyone who buys a paper. Tip your hat to the ladies and they will speak well of you when they get home. Any little favor you can do for a manor woman on the street (and not look as though you expect something), will always bring you business. The wind blew off the hat of a gentleman one day, and a little seller saw it. Quick as a flash he ran after it, took his own cap to wipe the dirt off the gentleman’s hat, and handed it to him. The gentleman said: ‘How many papers you got?’ ‘Twenty-four, sir,’ said the boy. ‘Give them all to me.’”On the membership card it reads: “He does not approve of swearing, etc.”A probation member, a boy who received his membership card, and had thirty days to wait for his badge, brought an old member to the president, one evening, with this plea.“President, this boy swears like hell. I heard him on the corner.”“Aw, what you given us, you swear yourself.” replied the accused.“Yes that’s all right. Tell me something; how would I know what swearing was if I didn’t know something about it,” proudly answered the new member.“Well, you have no right to bring me here and accuse me of doing what you yourself do. Read your card, kid, read your card.”FIRST SALE OF THE DAY.Without showing any signs of worry, the little fellow said.“President what can you expect of a bationist. When I get my badge things will be different. I cuts swearing out then.”“Yes, but you better wait instead of buttin in before you are a live member,” said the carrier.They talked some time about the matter between themselves and finally they locked arms, slowly walked out of the office saying:“Guess we better cut out swearing all around.”The following story illustrates a good method of treating boys who disobey their parents. It may not meet the approval of many fathers and mothers, but the sequel has in it the success of the work among the street-boys. We regret that we cannot give due credit to the author for the suggestions embodied in the story.A young boy was left alone in the yard to play. Everybody had gone and left the house in his care. He was given the key and told not to enter the house until the family returned. After a while he became tired of the birds, the flowers, the the trees, the sunshine. The spirit of disobedience entered into him and slowly he took hisway to the house. He unlocked the door. The first thing met his eye was his father’s razor. He had always been forbidden to touch it. But the spirit of license ran riot in his veins, and in using it he cut his face until the blood trickled down. Next he made his way to a matchbox. He had always been told to let it alone. He first built fences with matches on the floor, then fires under the lace curtains. A hole in the carpet, ruined curtains and his fingers blistered was the result. Suffering with pain and ashamed of his disobedience he steals out under the trees, and like Adam in the garden, he thought he could hide his sins by hiding himself. So he stole away and crawled under some bushes. When his father came home, discovered the ruined articles, he thought, what can be done to restore and mend that which his boy had broken, had ruined? His razor was broken, but he could buy a new one. His matches were consumed, but he could buy more. The curtains and carpet were defaced by fire, but they could be replaced and repaired. Wealth could repair the damage done to the house and make all as before. Skill and nature could repair the wrong done to the hand and the face, and make them as they were before.But where were the riches and where was the teacher that could make the boy’s heart as it was before his disobedience? None could be found. Let me tell you what happened. The father came not to upbraid, but to entreat; not to chastise, but to weep; The child’s hand was burned, the father’s heart was broken. The boy cried for shame, the father cried for sorrow. The father put his arms about the boy and with his head upon his breast together they sobbed out their sorrow. One part of it was the boy’s confession, and the other part of it was the father’s pain. Together they made a new resolution and hand to hand, and heart to heart, and love to love, they began together to repair the ruin that had been wrought.During the early stages of a boy’s membership he is constantly reminded that some day he will leave the street, he will seek employment elsewhere, and his start in a business life depends upon his street work. To illustrate this teaching, a boy found a small child’s savings bank. It was filled with money, small coin; and it was heavy. It was picked up on the street over a mile from the president’s office. As soon as found, the boy started on a run, as they always do, for theoffice. It was delivered with the usual instruction “to please find the owner.” To try the newsie the president called him aside and said, in a confidential whisper: “Why didn’t you sneak around the corner, into an alley, any place where no one could see you, and take a stone break the old bank all to pieces, take the money, and, my, what a good time you could have had.”The boy quickly replied: “No, sir, Mr. President, suppose I wanted a job, and stood in line to be questioned by the man, and he would ask, have you always been honest? What would I say? Why! my face would show I did something wrong—I took a little bank from some poor boy, and he would say, I don’t want a boy I would have to be afraid of; no that don’t belong to me.”This plainly shows what can be successfully impressed upon the minds of these hustling, seemingly thoughtless, street-boys. And when the owner of that bank proved to be a little girl—and how happy she was when it was found and returned to her, the boy said: “I would rather have the girl’s smiles than all the money the bank contained.”
At one of the auxiliary meetings the vice-president of the association, who was always practical in his talks to the boys, gave a little advice to the sellers.
It is worth remembering.
“Boys,” he said, “rain or shine be at your post, at your corner. Never be out of papers, and never be out of change. Many a good boy who needs money loses a sale for want of having change. Keep your eye peeled. If a man wants a paper, you should see it, though he is a square away. I know of one little boy, smaller than those who were selling with him, who always saw a customer a block away, and when the evening’s work was over he generally had ten to twenty cents to the clear more than others. Be polite and always cheerful. Keep your face and hands clean, and you will get many an extra nickel. If you are polite and civil you will get a regular line of customers who will always wait for you. Thank everyone who buys a paper. Tip your hat to the ladies and they will speak well of you when they get home. Any little favor you can do for a manor woman on the street (and not look as though you expect something), will always bring you business. The wind blew off the hat of a gentleman one day, and a little seller saw it. Quick as a flash he ran after it, took his own cap to wipe the dirt off the gentleman’s hat, and handed it to him. The gentleman said: ‘How many papers you got?’ ‘Twenty-four, sir,’ said the boy. ‘Give them all to me.’”
On the membership card it reads: “He does not approve of swearing, etc.”
A probation member, a boy who received his membership card, and had thirty days to wait for his badge, brought an old member to the president, one evening, with this plea.
“President, this boy swears like hell. I heard him on the corner.”
“Aw, what you given us, you swear yourself.” replied the accused.
“Yes that’s all right. Tell me something; how would I know what swearing was if I didn’t know something about it,” proudly answered the new member.
“Well, you have no right to bring me here and accuse me of doing what you yourself do. Read your card, kid, read your card.”
FIRST SALE OF THE DAY.
FIRST SALE OF THE DAY.
FIRST SALE OF THE DAY.
Without showing any signs of worry, the little fellow said.
“President what can you expect of a bationist. When I get my badge things will be different. I cuts swearing out then.”
“Yes, but you better wait instead of buttin in before you are a live member,” said the carrier.
They talked some time about the matter between themselves and finally they locked arms, slowly walked out of the office saying:
“Guess we better cut out swearing all around.”
The following story illustrates a good method of treating boys who disobey their parents. It may not meet the approval of many fathers and mothers, but the sequel has in it the success of the work among the street-boys. We regret that we cannot give due credit to the author for the suggestions embodied in the story.
A young boy was left alone in the yard to play. Everybody had gone and left the house in his care. He was given the key and told not to enter the house until the family returned. After a while he became tired of the birds, the flowers, the the trees, the sunshine. The spirit of disobedience entered into him and slowly he took hisway to the house. He unlocked the door. The first thing met his eye was his father’s razor. He had always been forbidden to touch it. But the spirit of license ran riot in his veins, and in using it he cut his face until the blood trickled down. Next he made his way to a matchbox. He had always been told to let it alone. He first built fences with matches on the floor, then fires under the lace curtains. A hole in the carpet, ruined curtains and his fingers blistered was the result. Suffering with pain and ashamed of his disobedience he steals out under the trees, and like Adam in the garden, he thought he could hide his sins by hiding himself. So he stole away and crawled under some bushes. When his father came home, discovered the ruined articles, he thought, what can be done to restore and mend that which his boy had broken, had ruined? His razor was broken, but he could buy a new one. His matches were consumed, but he could buy more. The curtains and carpet were defaced by fire, but they could be replaced and repaired. Wealth could repair the damage done to the house and make all as before. Skill and nature could repair the wrong done to the hand and the face, and make them as they were before.
But where were the riches and where was the teacher that could make the boy’s heart as it was before his disobedience? None could be found. Let me tell you what happened. The father came not to upbraid, but to entreat; not to chastise, but to weep; The child’s hand was burned, the father’s heart was broken. The boy cried for shame, the father cried for sorrow. The father put his arms about the boy and with his head upon his breast together they sobbed out their sorrow. One part of it was the boy’s confession, and the other part of it was the father’s pain. Together they made a new resolution and hand to hand, and heart to heart, and love to love, they began together to repair the ruin that had been wrought.
During the early stages of a boy’s membership he is constantly reminded that some day he will leave the street, he will seek employment elsewhere, and his start in a business life depends upon his street work. To illustrate this teaching, a boy found a small child’s savings bank. It was filled with money, small coin; and it was heavy. It was picked up on the street over a mile from the president’s office. As soon as found, the boy started on a run, as they always do, for theoffice. It was delivered with the usual instruction “to please find the owner.” To try the newsie the president called him aside and said, in a confidential whisper: “Why didn’t you sneak around the corner, into an alley, any place where no one could see you, and take a stone break the old bank all to pieces, take the money, and, my, what a good time you could have had.”
The boy quickly replied: “No, sir, Mr. President, suppose I wanted a job, and stood in line to be questioned by the man, and he would ask, have you always been honest? What would I say? Why! my face would show I did something wrong—I took a little bank from some poor boy, and he would say, I don’t want a boy I would have to be afraid of; no that don’t belong to me.”
This plainly shows what can be successfully impressed upon the minds of these hustling, seemingly thoughtless, street-boys. And when the owner of that bank proved to be a little girl—and how happy she was when it was found and returned to her, the boy said: “I would rather have the girl’s smiles than all the money the bank contained.”