NEW HOMES FOR THE HOMELESS.
The next day was to witness the dispersion of the little company which
had come out to try their fortunes in the great West. Notices had been
circulated in the neighboring villages that a company of boys had
arrived, and farmers and mechanics who needed a boy on the farm or in
the shop came to Brookville; and at eleven in the forenoon the hall
presented a busy and animated sight. While the newcomers scanned
attentively the faces of the boys, or opened conversations with them, to
guide them in the selections, the boys again were naturally anxious to
obtain desirable guardians and homes. Julius, being already provided
for, had no anxiety, but wandered about, surveying the scene with
comparative indifference. As he had a bright and intelligent look, he
was more than once addressed by visitors.
“What is your name, my lad?” asked a middle-aged farmer from the next
town.
“Julius.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“How would you like to come with me, and help me on my farm?”
“I’m engaged,” said Julius, with an air of importance; for as young
ladies are often emulous of getting married before their companions, so
the boy who first succeeds in obtaining a place plumes himself
accordingly.
“Indeed!” said the farmer, somewhat disappointed. “Where are you going
to live?”
“With Mr. Ephraim Taylor.”
“In Brookville?”
“Yes.”
“Then I shall have to look somewhere else, I suppose.”
“Maybe you’d like Corny Donovan?” suggested Julius.
“Where is he? Point him out.”
Our hero pointed out the speaker of the evening before.
“He’s small,” said the farmer, after a critical survey. “How old is he?”
“He’s fourteen.”
“He doesn’t look more than twelve.”
“He’s strong, Corny is, and he’s smart. He used to earn twice as much
money as some of the boys.”
“What did he do?”
“He blacked boots.”
“Do you think he would like to work on a farm?”
“I’ll axe him. Come here, Corny.”
Corny Donovan came up.
“Here’s a gentleman wants to talk to you,” said Julius.
“I was asking if you would like to work on a farm.”
“Yes,” said Corny, promptly, “if I was treated well, and could go to
school. I want to learn somethin’, so’s I can grow up to be somebody.”
“You ain’t afraid of work, are you?”
“No, nor nothin’ else. Julius here is afraid of bears.”
“You won’t find any bears where I live,” said the farmer, smiling. “How
would you like to go home with me?”
“I’d like it. You’ll have to speak to Mr. O’Connor.”
“He is the man who brought you to the West?”
“Yes. He stands there.”
Mr. O’Connor was the center of a group of farmers and others, who were
making inquiries about particular boys.
“Mr. O’Connor,” said the farmer just introduced, “I want to ask you
about a boy who calls himself Corny Donovan.”
“He is a smart boy; there is no smarter in our company.”
“Can you recommend him?”
“My dear sir, it depends on what you mean by the word.”
“Well, is he to be depended upon?”
“I think so; but we cannot guarantee it. You know what has been the past
life of our boys; how they have been brought up in neglect and privation
in the city streets, subject to little restraint, and without careful
instruction. You can’t expect them to be models of all the virtues.”
“No, I suppose not!”
“But I can tell you this--that among the thousands whom we place in
Western homes, there are few who do us discredit by being guilty of
criminal offenses. They may at times be mischievous, as most boys in all
conditions are, and with whatever advantages. There are few who show
themselves really bad.”
“That is all I want to know, Mr. O’Connor. I will take this boy, Corny,
and try him, with your consent.”
“Have you spoken with him?”
“Yes; he thinks he shall like being on a farm.”
“Then, sir, you have only to give us good references, and the matter
shall be arranged. We always insist upon them, as we feel under
obligations to place our boys in good families, where they will be
likely to receive good treatment.”
“That is quite fair, sir. I can satisfy you on that point.”
The matter was soon arranged, and Corny Donovan’s suspense was at an
end. He had found a home. His new guardian was Mr. Darius Fogg, who
owned and cultivated a large farm in the adjoining township of
Claremont.
“How far do you live from Brookville?” asked Julius.
“About six miles.”
“Can Corny come over some time? I should like to see him sometimes.”
“Oh, yes; he will have occasion to come often. We send our farm produce
here, to go East by rail, and we do our shopping here. Mrs. Fogg will
want Cornelius to drive her over of an afternoon.”
“Shall I drive the horses?” asked Corny, his eyes lighting up with eager
anticipation.
“Certainly; you will have to do it every day.”
“That’ll be stavin’. I say, Julius, won’t I put her over the road
two-forty?”
This remark Mr. Fogg did not hear, or he might have been alarmed at the
prospect of either of his staid farm horses being put over the road at
racing speed. It is doubtful, however, whether Corny, or any other
driver, could have got any very surprising speed out of them.
Teddy Bates was attached to Julius, and, though he was but a year
younger than our hero, looked up to him as a weak nature looks up to a
stronger. He was very anxious to find a home near our hero. Fortune
favored him at last, as a Mr. Johnson, a shoemaker, living only half a
mile distant from Mr. Taylor, agreed to take him into his shop, and
teach him the shoemaker’s trade.
“So you’re goin’ to learn to make shoes, Teddy,” said Julius. “Do you
think you’ll like it?”
“I don’t know,” said Teddy, “but I’m glad I’m goin’ to be near you.”
“We’ll have bully times, but I’d rather be on a farm. I want to drive
horses.”
“I never drove a horse,” said Teddy.
“Nor I; but I can.”
“S’pose he runs away.”
“I won’t let him. You ain’t afraid of a horse as well as a bear, are
you, Teddy?”
“I ain’t used to ’em, you see.”
“Nor I; but I will be soon.”
Teddy did not reply; but congratulated himself that he should have no
horse to take care of. In this, however, he was mistaken, as his new
guardian kept a horse also, though he did not have as much use for him
as if he had been a farmer.
Teddy, I may here remark, was an exception to his class. Street boys are
rarely deficient in courage or enterprise, and most would be delighted
at the opportunity to control or drive a horse. But Teddy inherited a
timid temperament, and differed widely from such boys as Julius or Corny
Donovan.
“Well, my boy, are you ready? I’ve got to be getting home,” said Mr.
Johnson, walking up to the place where Teddy stood talking with Julius.
“Yes, sir, I’m ready. I’ll just bid good-by to Mr. O’Connor.”
“Good-by, my boy,” said the superintendent. “I hope you will behave well
in your new home, and satisfy the gentleman who has agreed to take you.
Write home sometimes, and let me know how you are getting along.”
“I can’t write, sir,” said Teddy, rather ashamed of his ignorance.
“You will soon learn. Good-by!”
Next Julius came up, as Mr. Taylor was also ready to start.
“Good-by, Julius,” said Mr. O’Connor. “Now you’ve got a chance to make a
man of yourself, I hope you’ll do it.”
“I will,” said Julius, confidently. “If Jack Morgan or Marlowe come
round to ask where I am, don’t tell them.”
“I don’t think they’ll trouble me with any inquiries. They are probably
in Sing Sing by this time.”