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Two hours later the boys, rather tired, to be sure, after their, hard morning's work but all aglow with exercise and excitement combined, meet in the little school-room and compare notes with their comrades.

They are a whole hour late, and all truancy or unnecessary tardiness is always punished as it deserves; but this morning the kind teacher is quite ready to excuse them, for she knows all about "her boys," and is as glad as they are when these extra jobs come, and they can carry home a few extra pennies.

I have given you a peep into two of these homes; Would you like to see another? Come then with Louis, another little Italian boy, who has earned fifty cents this morning by "shoveling" and "shining" both. He is in a hurry to tell the good news, and scampers up the four rickety flights, two steps at a time.

It is one of the darkest, dingiest, most unwholesome rooms in the whole tenement, but it is all the home that Louis knows anything about. A rusty cooking-stove, with clothes drying on the line just over it, an old mattrass in the corner, a table with the remains of cold potatoes, maccaroni, etc., still upon it, one or two broken chairs, and the baby's cradle, make up the furniture of the room.

But five little children, ranging all the way from six months upward, fill whatever empty spaces are left, and unless you step carefully you may tread on some of the little creatures! The mother, who is mending a tiny garment while its owner is asleep, welcomes Louis with a sunny smile. No matter how tired or discouraged she is, there always seems to be a rich fund of love in this mother's heart for each and all of her little brood.

The father -- it is the same old story, but just as sad nevertheless, -- loves his bottle better than he does his helpless family: and Louis, ever since he was a wee baby, has seen so much of the misery caused by strong drink, that I hope he will take warning and never touch it himself.

That bright half-dollar! How the mother's eyes glisten as Louis twirls it on the table and asks her what he shall buy first! A hard question surely, when so many things are needed; but hunger is the loudest call after all, and there are a dozen eager mouths all waiting to be fed. Louis will earn another "fifty" perhaps, at his stand this afternoon; but unexpected jobs, like the morning shoveling, will always seem like especial "god-sends."

Just think how many miles of pavement, all within the limits of the city, have been traveled to-day by this indefatigable Shovel Brigade; yet there is a deal of "after work" still, for the crow-bar and pick-ax-recruits. These last are generally strong, able-bodied men employed by the city authorities; and there is scarcely a day after the first snow comes when you will not find them at work somewhere. Often the horse-car tracks become clogged, or the gutters need attention. Then, the snow itself, after it is shovelled from the pavements must be carted, or rather sledded off; and this work gives employment to a large number of men and boys throughout the winter months.

Truly it is an "ill wind" that blows nobody any good, and when these driving snowstorms come, spoiling the skating for so many boys and blocking the trains, let us remember Jack and Mike, Nicholas, Louis and all their little comrades, and the men with families who are eagerly waiting for a "job," and always hail the "falling skies" with undisguised delight.

THE LITTLE ASH-PICKERS.

Did you ever put your hand into a "grab-bag" If so, you know just how little Rosa feels as, standing on tip-toe, she pokes her long stick down into the ashes!

There are just fifty of them -- great, dusty, ugly barrels -- waiting with open mouths on each side of the open alley-way between Boylston and Newbury Streets, and Rosa with her hook and her bag is the very first one "on the spot" this morning. By and by the city carts will come, but just now the field is all her own, and the little girl goes to work with an energy worthy some better employment.

"Hullo! What's this?"

An old coffee-pot, sure enough, with the handle knocked off! Rosa looks it all over, taps it with her knuckles, holds it up to the light, and considers. The bottom is sound, the cover tight. Yes, it is a deal better than the old one at home, so she tucks it into the old tow bag, and pokes again. Dear me! what a fumbling there is this time! The little red hood is all enveloped in dust as Rosa draws out, one after the other, a pair of old, battered boots, minus every button. But, beating out the ashes, she shoves her little bare feet into the discarded French kids, and pronounces them a "perfect fit." She will find plenty of buttons before she gets through with those fifty barrels, and with big needle and stout thread the little cobbler knows she can make the old boots "most as good as new."

It is the bits of half-burned coal that she came out so early for this morning -- breakfast can't be cooked till she brings her bag home -- but coffee-pots arid boots are not to be found every day, and Rosa is on the lookout now for new treasures. Here is an old hat that will do for little Tony; and away down to the bottom of barrel number five gleam the shining sides of an old copper boiler! With furtive glances up and down the alley, Rosa seizes this last "find," crams it into her bag, and scuffles off around the corner as fast as her heavy load and her new boots will allow. A copper boiler! Just think what luck! Why, it's a regular "bonanza" at least, so the old junk dealers say, and who should know better than they? Perhaps you wonder, as I did, what possible use could be made of an old boiler with the bottom burned off. It's a secret of the trade, but I will tell you, for that pretty galvanized coal-hod by the grate knows the whole story! "Once upon a time" it was -- would you believe it? -- an old dilapidated boiler itself! But from ash-barrel to junk-shop, from furnace to hardware, it has gone so far up in the social scale that now even the stiff poker and tongs are quite willing to keep company with it.