The Dangerous Classes of New York, and Twenty Years' Work Among Them

"At Utica we dropped our fellow-passengers from Germany, and, thus partially relieved, spent the rest of the night in tolerable comfort.

"In the morning, we were in the vicinity of Rochester, and you can hardly imagine the delight of the children as they looked, many of them for the first time, upon country scenery. Each one must see everything we passed, find its name, and make his own comments. 'What's that, mister?' 'A cornfield.' 'Oh, yes; them's what makes buckwheaters.' 'Look at them cows (oxen plowing); my mother used to milk cows.' As we whirled through orchards loaded with large, red apples, their enthusiasm rose to the highest pitch. It was difficult to keep them within doors. Arms stretched out, hats swinging, eyes swimming, mouths watering, and all screaming – 'Oh! oh! just look at 'em! Mister, be they any sich in Michi_gan?_ Then I'm in for that place – three cheers for Michi_gan!'_ We had been riding in comparative quiet for nearly an hour, when all at once the greatest excitement broke out. We were passing a cornfield spread over with ripe yellow pumpkins. 'Oh! yonder! look! Just look at 'em!' and in an instant the same exclamation was echoed from forty-seven mouths. 'Jist look at 'em! What a heap of mushmillons!' 'Mister, do they make mushmillons in Michi_gan?'_ 'Ah, fellers, ain't that the country tho' – won't we have nice things to eat?' 'Yes, and won't we sell some, too?' 'Hip! hip! boys; three cheers for Michi_gan!'_

"At Buffalo we received great kindness from Mr. Harrison, the freight-agent and this was by no means his first service to the Children's Aid Society. Several boys and girls whom we have sent West have received the kindest attention at his hands. I am sure Mr. H.'s fireside must be a happy spot. Also Mr. Noble, agent for the Mich. C. R. R., gave me a letter of introduction, which was of great service on the way.

"We were in Buffalo nine hours, and the boys had the liberty of the town, but were all on board the boat in season. We went down to our place, the steerage cabin, and no one but an emigrant on a lake-boat can understand the night we spent. The berths are covered with a coarse mattress, used by a thousand different passengers, and never changed till they are filled with stench and vermin. The emigrants spend the night in washing, smoking, drinking, singing, sleep, and licentiousness. It was the last night in the freight-car repeated, with the addition of a touch of sea-sickness, and of the stamping, neighing, and bleating of a hundred horses and sheep over our heads, and the effluvia of their filth pouring through the open gangway. But we survived the night; how had better not be detailed. In the morning we got outside upon the boxes, and enjoyed the beautiful day. The boys were in good spirits, sung songs, told New York yarns, and made friends generally among the passengers. Occasionally, some one more knowing than wise would attempt to poke fun at them, whereupon the boys would 'pitch in,' and open such a sluice of Bowery slang as made Mr. Would-be-funny beat a retreat in double-quick time. No one attempted that game twice. During the day the clerk discovered that three baskets of peaches were missing, all except the baskets. None of the boys had been detected with the fruit, but I afterwards found they had eaten it.

"Landed in Detroit at ten o'clock, Saturday night, and took a first-class passenger-car on Mich. C. R. R., and reached D – c, a 'smart little town,' in S. W. Michigan, three o'clock Sunday morning. The depot-master, who seldom receives more than three passengers from a train, was utterly confounded at the crowd of little ones poured out upon the platform, and at first refused to let us stay till morning; but, after a deal of explanation, he consented, with apparent misgiving, and the boys spread themselves on the floor to sleep. At day-break they began to inquire, 'Where be we?' and, finding that they were really in Michigan, scattered in all directions, each one for himself, and in less than five minutes there was not a boy in sight of the depot. When I had negotiated for our stay at the American House (!) and had breakfast nearly ready, they began to straggle back from every quarter, each boy loaded down – caps, shoes, coat-sleeves, and shirts full of every green thing they could lay hands upon – apples, ears of corn, peaches, pieces of pumpkins, etc. 'Look at the Michi_gan_ filberts!' cried a little fellow, running up, holding with both hands upon his shirt bosom, which was bursting out with acorns. Little Mag (and she is one of the prettiest, sweetest little things you ever set eyes upon), brought in a 'nosegay,' which she insisted upon sticking in my coat – a mullen-stock and corn-leaf, twisted with grass!

"Several of the boys had had a swim in the creek, though it was a pretty cold morning. At the breakfast-table the question was discussed, how we should spend the Sabbath. The boys evidently wanted to continue their explorations; but when asked if it would not be best to go to church, there were no hands down, and some proposed to go to Sunday School, and 'boys' meeting, too.'

"The children had clean and happy faces, but no change of clothes, and those they wore were badly soiled and torn by the emigrant passage. You can imagine the appearance of our 'ragged regiment,' as we filed into the Presbyterian church (which, by the way, was a school-house), and appropriated our full share of the seats. The 'natives' could not be satisfied with staring, as they came to the door and filled up the vacant part of the house. The pastor was late, and we 'occupied the time' in singing. Those sweet Sabbath School songs never sounded so sweetly before. Their favorite hymn was, 'Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,' and they rolled it out with a relish. It was a touching sight, and pocket-handkerchiefs were used quite freely among the audience.

"At the close of the sermon the people were informed of the object of the Children's Aid Society. It met with the cordial approbation of all present, and several promised to take children. I was announced to preach in the afternoon; but, on returning to the tavern, I found that my smallest boy had been missing since day-break, and that he was last seen upon the high bridge over the creek, a little out of the village. So we spent the afternoon in hunting, instead of going to church. (Not an uncommon practice here, by the way.)

"We dove in the creek and searched through the woods, but little George (six years old) was not to be found; and when the boys came home to supper there was a shade of sadness on their faces, and they spoke in softer tones of the lost playmate. But the saddest was George's brother, one year older. They were two orphans – all alone in the world. Peter stood up at the table, but when he saw his brother's place at his side vacant, he burst out in uncontrollable sobbing. After supper he seemed to forget his loss, till he lay down on the floor at night, and there was the vacant spot again, and his little heart flowed over with grief. Just so again when he awoke in the morning, and at breakfast and dinner.

"Monday morning the boys held themselves in readiness to receive applications from the farmers. They would watch at all directions, scanning closely every wagon that came in sight, and deciding from the appearance of the driver and the horses, more often from the latter, whether they 'would go in for that farmer.'

"There seems to be a general dearth of boys, and still greater of girls, in all this section, and before night I had applications for fifteen of my children, the applicants bringing recommendations from their pastor and the justice of peace.

"There was a rivalry among the boys to see which first could get a home in the country, and before Saturday they were all gone. Rev. Mr. O. took several home with him; and nine of the smallest I accompanied to Chicago, and sent to Mr. Townsend, Iowa City. Nearly all, the others found homes in Cass County, and I had a dozen applications for more. A few of the boys are bound to trades, but the most insisted upon being farmers, and learning to drive horses. They are to receive a good common-school education, and one hundred dollars when twenty-one. I have great hopes for the majority of them. 'Mag' is adopted by a wealthy Christian farmer. 'Smack,' the privateer from Albany, has a good home in a Quaker settlement. The two brothers, Dick and Jack, were taken by an excellent man and his son, living on adjacent farms. The German boy from the 'Lodging-house' lives with a physician in D – .

"Several of the boys came in to see me, and tell their experience in learning to farm. One of them was sure he knew how to milk, and being furnished with a pail, was told to take his choice of the cows in the yard. He sprang for a two-year-old steer, caught him by the horns, and called for a 'line to make him fast.' None seemed discontented but one, who ran away from a tinner, because he wanted to be a farmer.

"But I must tell you of the lost boy. No tidings were heard of him up to Monday noon, when the citizens rallied and scoured the woods for miles around; but the search was fruitless, and Peter lay down that night sobbing, and with his arms stretched out, just as he used to throw them round his brother.

"About ten o'clock a man knocked at the door, and cried out, 'Here is the lost boy!' Peter heard him, and the two brothers met on the stairs, and before we could ask where he had been, Peter had George in his place by his side on the floor. They have gone to live together in Iowa.

"On the whole, the first experiment of sending children West is a very happy one, and I am sure there are places enough with good families in Michigan, Illinois, Iowa, and Wisconsin, to give every poor boy and girl in New York a permanent home. The only difficulty is to bring the children to the homes. "E. P. Smith."

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A LATER PARTY TO THE WEST

"'JANUARY, 1868

"'DEAR SIR – It will, perhaps, be interesting for you to know some facts connected with the disposal of my party at the West. We numbered thirty-two in all: two babies – one a fine little fellow one year old, and the other twenty-one years old, but, nevertheless, the greatest babe in the company. Just before I reached Chicago, I was surprised to find that my party numbered only about twenty, instead of thirty-two. I went into the forward car. You may imagine my surprise to find my large babe, W – D – , playing upon a concertina, and M – H – , alias M – B – , footing it down as only a clog-dancer, and one well acquainted with his business at that, could do, while eight or ten boys, and perhaps as many brakes-men and baggage-men, stood looking on, evidently greatly amused. It was plain to see that I was an unwelcome visitor. Order was at once restored, and the boys went back and took their seats. As we neared A – , a gentleman by the name of L – came to me, and, after making some inquiries, said: "I wish you would let me take that boy," pointing to G – A – , a little fellow about eight years old. I told him we never allowed a child to go to a home from the train, as we had a committee appointed in A – , to whom application must be made. I promised, however, that I would keep the boy for him until Monday and if he came, bringing satisfactory recommendations, he should have him. He said if money was any inducement, he would give me twenty-five dollars if I would let him have the boy. I said five thousand dollars would not be an inducement without the recommendation. The little fellow was really the most remarkable child I ever saw, so amiable and intelligent, and yet so good-looking. When I reached A – , I had not been out of the cars five minutes when a gentleman went to G – , and placing his hand on his shoulder, said, "This is the little man I want." I told him he had been engaged already. We passed through the crowd at the depot, and finally reached the hotel. We had been there but a short time when I had another application for G – . The first applicant came up also, and asserted his claim; said that, if L – did not come and get the boy, he had the first right to him. L – did not come, and I had some difficulty to settle the matter between the two applicants. Didn't know but I should have to resort to Solomon's plan, and divide the boy, but determined to let him go to the best home.

"'Matters went off very pleasantly the first day. I found good homes for some ten or twelve boys; but, in the evening, I missed the boys from the hotel, and, in looking for them, was attracted to a saloon by the dulcet tones of my babe's concertina, and entered. D – was playing, and two of the boys were delighting the audience with a comic Irish song. All the rowdies and rum-drinkers in the town seemed to have turned out to meet them. I stepped inside of the door, and, with arms folded, stood looking very intently at them, without uttering a word. First the music ceased, then the singing, and one by one the boys slunk out of the room, until I was left alone with the rabble. It was rather amusing to hear their exclamations of surprise. "Halloo! what's up?" "What's broke loose now?" I went to the hotel, found the boys there, and a more humble set I never saw. I gave them a lecture about a yard long, and professed to feel very much hurt at the idea of finding a boy who came out with me, in a rum-shop. I gave them to understand what I should expect of them in future, and ended by having the door opened and extending an invitation to leave to those boys who thought they could do better for themselves than I should do for them. As no disposition to leave manifested itself, I then put the question to vote whether they would remain with me and do just as I wished, or go and look out for themselves. Every hand went up, and some of the boys expressed themselves very sorry for what they had done. W – D – left a day or two after, taking the concertina with him, which I afterward learned belonged to another boy. The most of my trouble seemed to take wing and fly away with him. He was the scapegoat of the party.

"'Illinois is a beautiful farming country. All the farmers seem to be wealthy. The large boys, with two exceptions, were placed upon farms. Quite a number of boys came back to the hotel to say good-by, and thank me for bringing them out. I will note a few of the most interesting cases: John Mahoney, age 16, with Mr. J – T – (farmer); came in town Sunday to show me a fine mule his employer had given him. J – C – , age 14, went with Mrs. D – , who has a farm; came in, to tell me how well pleased he is with his place; says he will work the farm as soon as he is able, and get half the profits. D – M – , age 17, went with A – H. B – (farmer); came back to tell me his employer had given him a pig, and a small plot of ground to work for himself. J – S – , age 17, went with J – B – ; saw him after the boy had been with him three or four days; he likes him very much, and has given him a Canadian pony, with saddle and bridle. I might mention other cases, but I know the above to be facts.

"'The boys met with a great deal of sympathy. One old gentleman came in just for the purpose of seeing a little boy who had lost an eye, and was a brother to a boy his son had taken. When I told the little fellow that the gentleman lived near the man who had taken his brother, he climbed up on his knee, and putting his arms around his neck, said: "I want to go home with you, and be your boy; I want to see my brother." The old gentleman wept, and wiping the tears from his eyes, said: "This is more than I can stand; I will take this boy home with me." He is a wealthy farmer and a good man, and I am sure will love the little fellow very much, for he is a very interesting child. YOURS, "'C. R. FRY'"

"This letter is from a farmer – a deaf-mute – who has a destitute deaf-mute lad placed with him: —

"'C – H – , IND., March 5, 1860.

"'MY DEAR SIR – I received your kind letter some days ago. It has given me great pleasure to hear that you had arrived at your home. I got a report from you. The first of the time when you left D – , he cried and stamped on the floor by the door, but I took him to show him the horses; I told him when he will be a big man I would give him a horse. Then he quit crying, and he began to learn A, B, C, on that day when you left here. Now D – is doing very well, and plays the most of anything; he likes to stay here very well; he can learn about dog and cat. I am willing to take care of him over twenty-one years old, if he stays here as long as he ever gets to be twenty-one years old; then I will give him a horse, money, clothes, school, etc. Last Saturday, D – rode on my colt himself; the colt is very gentle; on advice, he got off the colt; he petted the colt the most of time; he likes to play with the young colt. He likes to stay with me, and he said he don't like to go back where you are. He gathers chips and fetches wood in the stove, and is willing to do all his work directly. I wonder that he bold boy and mock some neighbors. "'Yours truly, friend, "'L. F. W.

"'Write a letter to me immediately and let me know. He likes to go about with me, but not when it is very cold; I send him to stay in the house, out of the cold. When it is warm day, he likes to go about with me. Sometimes he goes to town. He pets the colt every day; sometimes he waters the colt and feed some corn himself.'"

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THE HUNGRY BOY IN A HOME

"In our first Report there was an account of a little boy, whom our visitor, Rev. Mr. Smith, found under a cart in the street, gnawing a bone which he had picked up for his breakfast. He had a good-natured little face, and a fine, dark eye. Mr. S. felt for him, and said, 'Where do you live, my boy?'

'Don't live nowhere.' 'But, where do you stay?' He said a woman had taken him in, in Thirteenth Street, and that he slept in one corner of her room. His mother had left him, and 'lived all about, doin' washin'.' Mr. Smith went around with him to the place, and found a poor, kind woman, who had only a bare room and just enough to live, and yet had sheltered and fed the wretched little creature. 'She was the poorest creature in New York,' she said, 'but somehow everything that was poor always came to her, and while God gave her anything, she meant to share it with those who were poorer than she.' The boy was sent to Pennsylvania, and the following is the letter from his mistress, or rather friend, to the poor mother here. It speaks for itself. May God bless the kind mother's heart, which has taken in thus the outcast child!

"'H – , PENN., Dec 8, 1855.

"'Mr. Q – : I have but a moment to write this morning. You wish to know how Johnny, as you call him, gets along. We do not know him by that name. Having a William and a John before he came here, we have given him the name of Frederick; he is generally called Freddy. He is well, and has been, since I last wrote to you. He is a very healthy boy, not having been sick a day since he came here. His feet trouble him at times very much; they are so tender that he is obliged to wear stockings and shoes all the year. We do not expect his feet will ever bear the cold, as they were so badly frozen while on the way from the city here. But do not imagine that he suffers much, for he does not. When his boots or shoes are new, he complains a good deal; but after a little he gets along without scarcely noticing it. To-day our winter's school commences. Samuel, Freddy, and Emily will attend; and I hope Freddy will be able to write to you when the school closes. He learns to write very easy, and will, with little pains, make a good penman. He is an excellent speller – scarcely ever spells a word wrong – but he is not a good reader; but we think he will be, as we call him ambitious and persevering, and he is unwilling to be behind boys of his age. Do you ask if he is a good boy? I can assure you he has the name of a good boy throughout the neighborhood; and wherever he is known, his kind, obliging manners make him many friends. Again, do you inquire if he is beloved At home? I will unhesitatingly say that we surely love him as our own; and we have had visitors here for a number of days without once thinking that he was not our own child.

"'I wish you could see the children as they start for school this morning. Fred, with his black plush cap, green tunic, black vest, gray pants, striped mittens, and his new comforter, which he bought with his own money. Samuel carries the dinner-pail this morning; it is filled with bread and butter, apple pie, and gingerbread; and Fred has his slate, reader, spelling-book, and Testament – and he has not forgotten to go down to the cellar and fill his pockets with apples.

"'I am not very well, and I make bad work of writing. I am afraid you will not find out what I have written.

"'Fred often speaks of you, and of his dear sister Jane. He wants you to tell Mr. Brace how you get along, and get him to write to us all about it.

"'With desire for your welfare,

"'I subscribe myself your friend,

"'Sally L – .'"

THE PRISON-BOY

"The boy of whom this is written was taken from one of the City

Prisons: —

"'H – , Oct. 12, 1865.

"'DEAR SIR – Yours, making inquiries about F. C, was duly received. His health has been generally good and so far as his behavior is concerned, it has been as good as could have been expected from the history he has given us of himself, previous to his coming to live with us. We soon learned that very little dependence could be placed on his truthfulness or honesty; in fact, he was a fair specimen of New York juvenile vagrancy. He has wanted a close supervision, and we have endeavored to correct what was wrong, and to inculcate better things, and, we think, with some success. He has learned to read and spell very well; besides these, he has attended to writing and arithmetic, and has made some improvement in them. The first winter that he came to live with us, we did not think it best to send him to our Public School, but kept him under our own personal instruction. The last winter he attended our Public School five and a half months. He has been in our Sabbath School from the time he first came, and has usually had his lessons well. He has, from the first, been glad to attend all religious meetings, and we think that his moral perception of things has much improved, and we can but hope that, with proper attention, he may grow up to be a useful and respectable man. He seemed quite satisfied with his home. "'Yours, most respectfully, "'C. S. B.'"

"This, again, is about a poor friendless little girl, sent to a good family in old Connecticut: —

    "'N – , CT., Oct. 11, 1855.

"'MR. MACY:

"'Dear Sir– With regard to Sarah, I would say that she is a very good girl, and is also useful to us, and, I think, fitting herself to be useful to herself at a future day.

"'She has now been with us about two and a half years, and has become a part of our family; and we should feel very sorry to part with her. She attended school last winter at the N. Union High School, which affords advantages equal to any school in the country. She made much improvement in her studies, and at the end of the winter term a public examination was held at the school, and Mr. B., the Principal, stated, in presence of more than three hundred persons, that Sarah G. lived in my family, and was taken by me from the "Children's Aid Society," of New York; and stated, also, that when she commenced to go to school, she was unable to read a word, and wished them to notice the improvement that had been made in her case. The audience seemed to be surprised that she had been able to accomplish so much in so short a time.

"'She also attends Sabbath School very regularly, and gets her lessons very perfectly, and appears to take great delight in doing so. I think she has improved in many respects. She speaks, occasionally of the way in which she used to live in New York, and of the manner in which she was treated by her parents, when they were alive, and says she can never be thankful enough to the kind friends, who, being connected with the Children's Aid Society, sought her out, and provided her with a comfortable home in the country, far removed from the temptations, and vices, and miseries of a city like New York. I would say that she has not been to school the past summer, and that she had made little progress in penmanship during her attendance last winter, and that she is not now able to write you herself, but I think will be able to do so when you wish to hear from her again. "'Respectfully yours, "'WM. K. L.'"