Julius, The Street Boy

“‘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.

The cheers were given with a will, and with such emphasis that it was clear none of the boys as yet was troubled with weak lungs.

Then the band struck up again, and after they had concluded, one of the citizens came forward and addressed Mr. O’Connor.

“Mr. O’Connor, I presume?” he said.

“That is my name, sir. You were expecting us?”

“Yes; we received your telegram, and have made arrangements to receive you. First, however, let me introduce myself. My name is Taylor.”

“Ephraim Taylor?”

“Yes,” said the other, in some surprise.

“You wonder that I know your name,” said Mr. O’Connor. “I met an uncle of yours while traveling in the State of New York, and he gave one of our boys a letter to you.”

“Indeed!”

“It was a boy,” exclaimed the superintendent, “who had an opportunity of being of service to him.”

“In what way, may I ask?”

“He detected a pickpocket in the act of taking your uncle’s gold watch, and warned him of it. Julius, come here!”

Julius stepped out of the ranks. Mr. Taylor looked at him earnestly.

“I hear that you fell in with my uncle,” he said.

“Yes, sir. He give me a letter for you.”

“Let me see it.”

Julius drew the letter from his pocket and handed it to Mr. Taylor.

The letter read as follows:

“My Dear Nephew: This will be handed to you by a boy who has done me a service, the nature of which the superintendent will explain to you. I do not know how you are situated, or whether you require the services of a boy. If you do, I think you can’t do better than to take this one. He is bright, sharp, and, as I have reason to believe, honest. I shall be glad if he can secure a good home.

    Your uncle,
    “John Taylor.”

Julius had already examined critically the personal appearance of Mr. Taylor, whom he regarded as his future employer and guardian. His past life had made him a good and quick observer of character. Street boys, obliged to fight their way, and struggle for a livelihood, are by their circumstances made preternaturally sharp. They acquire a judgment and self-reliance beyond their years, however defective they may be in the knowledge to be gained from books. Engaged in reading his uncle’s letter, Mr. Taylor did not notice the keen glance with which Julius regarded him. But the result was favorable.

“I guess I’ll like him,” said our hero to himself. “He looks like he might be kind. I hope he’ll take me.”

Mr. Taylor looked up with a smile.

“My uncle wants me to take you, my lad,” he said.

“Will you?” asked Julius.

“What do you say, Mr. O’Connor?” said Mr. Taylor. “Will you intrust this young man to me?”

“I shall be glad to do so,” said the superintendent. “I will ask you to leave him with us till to-morrow, however, as applications will not generally be accepted till then.”

“I have no objection to that. Now let me tell you what arrangements we have made for your reception. How many children have you in your company?”

“Fifty-two.”

“It is as I supposed. There are more than can be lodged at our hotel, which is small. They could receive but twenty there, and the remainder can be accommodated in a hall we have in the village.”

“I should prefer that they would not be separated. I would rather have them all under my own eye for to-night,” said the superintendent.

“Very well; then perhaps it will be best for all to be accommodated in the hall. There are two halls, in fact; and bedding can be placed on the floor. It won’t be quite so comfortable as it would be at the hotel.”

“Our boys are used to roughing it,” said Mr. O’Connor. “Many a night in the city they have slept out in old wagons or alleyways. It won’t hurt them to sleep on the floor.”

“The hall is about half a mile distant. I will lead the way, and you may get settled at once.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Tim Shanter, see that the boys walk in line,” said the superintendent. “I appoint you captain, Mr. Taylor, and I will go on ahead, and you will follow us.”

So the procession moved through the village, attracting curious glances from the inhabitants as it passed along. The boys on their side used their eyes to advantage. They were delighted with the fields of grass, the trees now in full leaf, the flower-plots in front of some of the houses, and the singing of the birds. There was not one of them who did not hope that he would find a home in Brookville.

CHAPTER VIII.