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THE NEWSBOYS.

DID you ever stop to think what a curious sort of life our little newsboys lead? Taking a car one afternoon, just below the Herald office on Washington Street, I was greatly entertained by a bevy of these little fellows, who came trooping in and soon filled up all the vacant seats about me.

Their arms were full of the latest edition, fresh from the press; and with a nimbleness of finger that could only have come from long practice, they quickly folded the damp sheets, slung them across their shoulders, and then, with hands jingling the change in their pockets, they began to talk over the day's losses and gains, and the splendid sales in store for them because of the "big sensation," all with a shrewdness and keen business insight worthy of State Street or the Exchange.

It was amusing and painful both -- this precocious child-talk. The largest boy among them was scarcely older than little Tom, who comes every morning to his papa for spending-money, and who reckons its value simply by the amount of toys or candies it will buy.

What would our little boy think, I wonder, if his breakfast, his dinner, and his supper to say nothing of lodging and clothes, depended upon the pennies he could earn each day?

Yet among the three hundred newsboys who throng our Boston streets, I find there is scarcely one upon whose exertions does not depend his own support, and, in many instances, the maintenance of a whole family!

It was only to-day that an instance came to my notice deserving especial mention. Down by Snow-hill Street is a poor Italian family, consisting of father, mother, and (if I remember rightly) five children.

Two of the boys are licensed to sell newspapers, but at one time last winter the elder brother was taken ill, and the father was sick in bed for months. During all this time the whole burden came upon little Antonio, who is only twelve years old, and so very slight you would think him much younger.

But the brave lad at once "took in the situation," and by rising early and working late, he managed to earn enough each day from the sale of his papers to support them all till father and mother were able to work again.

Then there is little Joseph Dondaro, whose shrill voice you may have heard on the corner last evening, as he shouted his "Herald! Five o'clock! " He is a tiny. boy, with jet-black eyes, hair to match, and a nut-brown complexion that is not wholly due to dust and tan. For Joe is of Jewish parentage, and a hard life the little fellow has had ever since he can remember. His mother died about a year ago, and the wretched drunkard he calls "father" is so cruel to Joe and his little sister, that the children were only too glad when, some months since, he took his handorgan and, leaving the little ones to look after themselves, wandered off into the country nobody knew whither.

Since then Joe, with all the dignity of ten years, has taken upon himself the entire responsibility, and tried to fill the place of father and mother both to his little sister, who is only six years old.

Upon an average he can earn by the sale of his papers three dollars a week; out of this sum he pays for the rent of their one room on Endicott Street, seventy-five cents per week, while the remainder -- just think how small! -- must feed and clothe them.

Down on North Margin Street is a neat brick building known as the "School for Newsboys and Bootbtacks," and here it was that I first saw little Joseph. For, by the conditions of his license, every minor, in our well-regulated city, is expected to attend school at least two hours each day during the school year.

Many of our public schools admit such pupils, and I think the Eliot school alone contains some forty newsboys; but as "two-hour" pupils need separate classes, they cause, of course, a deal of irregularity in graded schools; and so, some ten years back, two special schools one on North Margin Street, under the charge of Miss Brackett, the other in East-street Place, under Miss Taylor, were opened to give our newsboys, boot-blacks, and little street-peddlers the benefit of thorough instruction at such hours of the day as would least interfere with their "trade."

Before the city fathers, however, had thought of this excellent arrangement, certain kind ladies had established, in the old church on Chauncy Street, a free day school for these little street venders; and had it not been for the benevolence, zeal, and successful labors of those early workers, I doubt if the present fine schools would ever have had an existence.

The school in East-street Place, which is composed almost exclusively of newsboys, numbers between twenty and thirty pupils, and is open from nine to eleven in the morning, and from twelve till two in the afternoon. Nearly all the boys here are of Irish parentage, while in the school on North Margin Street, which is somewhat larger, by far the greater proportion are Italians.

It is an interesting sight to watch these little street Arabs poring over their well-thumbed books; and as I studied their bright, intelligent faces, I couldn't help thinking what a safeguard through the day these precious two hours may be to them!