A Little Girl in Old New York by Amanda Minnie Douglas (reading diary TXT) 📕

brothers or sisters."

"Let him come over to our house," returned Ben cordially. "We have a good supply."

Then everybody dispersed. They'd had such a good time, and were eager in their acknowledgments.

"Why, I quite like John Robert Charles," said Ben. "He's a real smart fellow."

"If you would please not call him all those names," entreated Hanny. "He doesn't like them."

"Well, I should say not. I'd like just plain Bob. He wants the girlishness shaken out of him."

"But he's so nice. And if he should come over please don't let Jim plague him."

"Oh, I'll look out."

It was a week before Ben could put on his shoe, and of course it was not wisdom for him to go to school. He went down-town in the wagon and did some writing and accounts for Steve, and read a great deal. Mr. Reed and Charles sauntered over one evening. Hanny was sitting out on the stoop with "father and the boys," and gave Charles a soft, welcoming smile. Margaret was playing twilight tunes in a gentle manner, and the dulcet measures fascinated the boy, who could hardly pay attention to what Ben was saying.

"Do you want to go in and hear her?" Hanny asked, with quick insight as she caught his divided attention.

"Oh, if I could!" eagerly.

"Yes." Hanny rose and held out her hand, saying: "We are going in to Margaret."

The elder sister greeted them cordially. After playing a little she asked them if they would not like to sing.

They chose "Mary to the Saviour's Tomb" first. It was a great favorite in those days. The little girl liked it because she could play and sing it for her father. She was taking music lessons of Margaret's teacher now, and practised her scales and exercises with such assiduity that she had been allowed to play this piece. She did sometimes pick out tunes, but it was after the real work was done.

"Your boy has a fine voice," said John to Mr. Reed.

The father was not quite sure singing was manly. He had roused to the fact that Charles was rather "girly," and he wanted him like other boys.

"He is a good scholar," his father returned in half protest. "Stands highest in his class."

"Going to send him to college?"

"I don't just know," hesitatingly.

"Has he any fancy for a profession? He'd make an attractive minister."

"I don't know as I have much of a fancy for that."

Mr. Reed knew it was his wife's hope and ambition, but it had never appealed to him.

"The boys want Ben to go to college," said John, the "boys" standing for the two older brothers.

"I don't want to be a lawyer nor a doctor," subjoined Ben decisively. "And I shouldn't be good enough for a minister. There ought to be some other professions."

"Why, there are. Professorships, civil engineering, and so on."

While the men discussed future chances, the children were singing, and their sweet young voices moved both fathers curiously. Mr. Reed decided that he would cultivate his neighbor, even if Charles had not made much headway with Ben and Jim.


CHAPTER XVI

DAISY JASPER

What to do with Ben was the next question of importance. He was fond of books, an omnivorous reader, in fact, a very fair scholar, and, with a certain amount of push, could have graduated the year before. He really was not longing for college.

There was only one line of horse-cars, and that conveyed the passengers of the Harlem Railroad from the station on Broome Street to the steam-cars up-town. Only a few trains beside the baggage and freight cars were allowed through the city. Consequently a boy's ambition had not been roused to the height of being a "car conductor" at that period. A good number counted on "running wid de machine" when they reached the proper age, but boys were not allowed to hang around the engine-houses. Running with the machine was something in those days. There were no steam-engines. Everything was drawn by a long rope, the men ranged on either side. The force of the stream of water was also propelled by main strength, and the "high throwing" was something to be proud of. There was a good deal of rivalry among the companies to see who could get to a fire the first. Sometimes, indeed, it led to quite serious affrays if two parties met at a crossing. "Big Six" never gave up for any one. "Forty-one" was another famous engine on the East side. Indeed they had a rather menacing song they sometimes shouted out to their rivals, which contained these two blood-curdling lines:


"From his heart the blood shall run
By the balls of Forty-one."


Later on the fights and disturbances became so bitter that the police had to interfere, and as the city grew larger some new method of expediting matters had to be considered. But the "fire laddies" were a brave, generous set of men, who turned out any time of day or night and dragged their heavy engines over the rough cobble-stones with a spirit and enthusiasm hard to match. They received no pay, but were exempt from jury duty, and after a number of years of service had certain privileges granted them. Jim counted strongly on being a fireman. John had sometimes gone to fires but was not a "regular."

But all differences were forgotten in the "great fire," as it was called for a long time. There had been one about ten years before that had devastated a large part of the city. And in February of this year there had been quite a tragic one in the Tribune Building. There was a fierce drifting snowstorm, so deep it was impossible to drag the engines through it, and some of the hydrants were frozen. Men had jumped from the windows to save their lives, and there had been quite a panic.

Early in the gray dawn of July nineteenth, a watchman discovered flames issuing from an oil store on New Street. A carpenter shop next door was soon in flames. A large building in which quantities of saltpetre was stored caught next. A dense smoke filled the air, and a sudden explosive sound shot out a long tongue of flame that crossed the street. At intervals of a few moments others followed, causing everybody to fly for their lives. And at last one grand deafening burst like a tremendous clap of thunder, and the whole vicinity was in a blaze. Bricks and pieces of timber flew through the air, injuring many people. Then the fire spread far and wide, one vast, roaring, crackling sheet of flame. One brave fireman and several other people were killed, and Engine 22 was wrecked in the explosion.

It was said at first that powder had been stored in the building, but it was proved on investigation that the saltpetre alone was the dangerous agent. Three hundred and forty-five buildings were destroyed, at a loss, it was estimated, of ten millions of dollars. For days there was an immense throng about the place. The ruins extended from Bowling Green to Exchange Place.

A relic of Revolutionary times perished in this fire. The bell of the famous Provost prison, that had been used by the British during their occupancy of the city, had been removed when the building was remodelled and placed on the Bridewell at the west of the City Hall, and used for a fire-alarm bell. When the Bridewell had been destroyed it was transferred to the cupola of the Naiad Hose Company in Beaver Street. It rang out its last alarm that morning, for engine house and bell perished in the flames.

Stephen had been very fortunate in that he was out of the fire district. He took Margaret and Hanny down to view the great space heaped with blackened debris, and when a fire alarm was given the little girl used to shiver with fright for months afterward.

And now schools were considering their closing exercises, and parents of big boys were puzzled to know just where to start them in life. Ben declared his preference at last--he wanted to be some sort of a newspaper man.

They called Mr. Whitney in to council. He was not quite sure he would recommend beginning there. It would be better to learn the trade thoroughly at such a place as the Harpers'. Then there would always be something to fall back upon. Steve did not cordially approve, and Dr. Joe was quite disappointed. He was ready to help Ben through college.

Newspaper people did not rank as high then as now. There was a good deal of what came to be called Bohemianism among them, and it was not of the artistic type. For the one really good position there were a dozen precarious ones.

Aunt Nancy Archer rather amused them with another objection. She wasn't at all sure the publishing of so many novels was conducive to the advancement of morals and religion. She never could quite understand how so good a man as Brother Harper could lend it countenance. When she was young the girls of her time were reading Hannah More. And there was Mrs. Chapone's letters, and now Charlotte Elizabeth and Mrs. Sigourney.

"Did you know Hannah More wrote a novel?" inquired John, with a half smile of his father's humor. "And Mrs. Barbauld and Mrs. Edgeworth and Charlotte Elizabeth's stories are in the novel form."

"But they have a high moral. And there are so many histories for young people to read. They ought to have the real truth instead of silly make-believes and trashy love stories."

"There are some histories that would be rather terrible reading for young minds," said John. "I think I'll bring you two or three, Aunt Nancy."

"But histories are _true_."

"There are a great many sad and bitter truths in the world. And the stories must have a certain amount of truth in them or they would never gain a hearing. Do we not find some of the most beautiful stories in the Bible itself?"

"Well, I can't help thinking all this novel reading is going to do harm to our young people. Their minds will get flighty, and they will lose all taste and desire for solid things. They are beginning to despise work already."

"Aunt Nancy," said Ben, with a deprecating smile, "the smartest girl I know lives just below here. She does most all the housekeeping, she can wash and iron and sweep and sew, and she reads novels by the score. She just races through them. I do believe she knows as much about Europe as any of our teachers. And I never dreamed there had been such tremendous conquests in Asia, and such wonderful things in Egypt until I heard her talk about them; and she knows about the great men and generals and rulers who lived before the Christian era, and at the time Christ was born----"

Aunt Nancy gasped.

"Of course there were Old Testament times," she returned hesitatingly.

"And I am not sure but Mayor Harper is doing a good work in disseminating knowledge of all kinds. I believe we are to try all things and hold fast to that which is good," said John.

He brought Aunt Nancy the history of Peter the Great and the famous Catharine of Russia, but she admitted that they were too cruel and too terrible for any one to take pleasure in.

Mrs. Underhill and Margaret went to the closing exercises