The Factory Boy

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  AUNT HATTIE'S LIBRARY

  for Girls.

  SERIES I.

  VOL. I. THE SHEEP AND LAMBS.

  " II. LILY'S BIRTHDAY.

  " III. LITTLE MISS FRET.

  " IV. MAGGIE AND THE MICE.

  " V. THE LOST KITTY.

  " VI. IDA'S NEW SHOES.

  AUNT HATTIE'S LIBRARY

  for Boys.

  SERIES II.

  VOL. I. THE APPLE BOYS.

  " II. THE CHEST OF TOOLS.

  " III. THE FACTORY BOY.

  " IV. FRANKIE'S DOG TONY.

  " V. THE GOLDEN RULE.

  " VI. LYING JIM.

  AUNT HATTIE'S LIBRARY]

  The Factory Boy.

  BY AUNT HATTIE,

  AUTHOR OF THE "BROOKSIDE SERIES," ETC.

  "Trust in the Lord and do good, ... and verily thou shalt be fed." DAVID.

  BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY HENRY A. YOUNG & CO., NO. 24 CORNHILL.

  Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by

  REV. A. R. BAKER,

  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts.

  ROCKWELL & ROLLINS, STEREOTYPERS, 122 Washington Street.

  To

  NELLIE, ROLAND COTTON, ANNIE, AND FULLER APPLETON,

  CHILDREN OF MY BELOVED NEPHEW,

  THE REV. JOHN COTTON SMITH, D.D.,

  THESE SMALL VOLUMES ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED,

  WITH THE EARNEST PRAYER

  THAT THEIR LIVES MAY PROVE THEM TO BE LAMBS IN THE FOLD

  OF THE GREAT AND GOOD

  Shepherd of Israel.

  CONTENTS.

  CHAPTER I. Page THE SILVER DOLLAR, 11

  CHAPTER II. KIND FRIENDS, 21

  CHAPTER III. THE NEW BOOTS, 32

  CHAPTER IV. A SAD STORY, 41

  CHAPTER V. GOING TO SCHOOL, 53

  CHAPTER VI. JOHNNY A FAVORITE, 64

  CHAPTER VII. JOHNNY'S TRUST, 74

  CHAPTER VII. JOHNNY'S NEW FATHER, 87

  CHAPTER IX. THE NEW HOUSE, 99

  THE FACTORY BOY.

  CHAPTER I.

  THE SILVER DOLLAR.

  "TAKE a cup of porridge, Johnny, dear. It's too cold to go to workwithout something warm."

  Johnny looked in the bowl which stood on the hearth, near a fewsmouldering brands, and shook his head as he answered,--"I'm not veryhungry, mother. There's only enough for you and Ella." Then withoutanother word he hurried away, for the factory bell was ringing; and heknew that he must not be late.

  Poor little Johnny! How he shivered as he shuffled along that frostyDecember morning! He could not pick up his feet, as the boys say, andrun; for his shoes were much too large for him, and the heels were soworn that it was only by shuffling that he could keep them on his feet.He had scarce a quarter of a mile to go; but cold and hungry as thechild was, it seemed a long way to him. He could not help wishing hewere a baby like Ella, and could lie in bed all day, with his deadfather's coat thrown over him to keep him warm.

  It was early yet; and few people were stirring except the men, women,and children who were hurrying to enter the factory before the bellceased to toll. Johnny hurried, too, for he remembered the scolding hehad received the day before for being five minutes too late, and wasjust crossing the railroad track when his toe hit against something,which he stooped to pick up.

  It was a silver dollar; but he did not know it. He had never seen one.He thought it was a temperance medal, like what he had seen strungaround the boys' necks.

  His eyes shone with pleasure; he had often wished for a medal, and hedetermined that when he reached the factory he would thread a piece ofyarn through the hole and wear it outside his jacket.

  The place where Johnny worked was a stocking factory. His part was towind the skeins of yarn upon the long spools, from which the men andlarge boys wove it into stockings.

  He had forgotten about his hunger now, and was tying a knot in thestring he had put through the dollar, when a young woman came towardhim.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  He held up the medal, saying, eagerly, "I found it."

  "It's a dollar, a silver dollar, Johnny."

  "Oh, goody!" cried the boy; "now I can have some new shoes. I thought itwas a Father Matthew's medal; but I'd rather have a dollar. Oh, I'm soglad!"

  The woman looked in his pale face, and couldn't help saying, as she didso,--

  "Are you hungry, child?"

  "Not very."

  "What did you have for breakfast?"

  His lips quivered, but he knew by her kind face that she was a friend;and he told her the whole story of his mother's long sickness; and howthey had grown poorer and poorer, until there was nothing now but whathe earned.

  "I knew Ella would be hungrier than I," he said, looking the woman fullin the face with his clear blue eyes; "and so I didn't take theporridge."

  "Wait a minute; you sha'n't go to work so," was all she said; and thenshe was off through the door, down the long steps in a hurry.

  He pulled his stool close to the small wheel, on which was a large skeinof fine yarn, and began to turn it with his foot, when the woman cameback, bringing a small basket.

  "Here, Johnny, eat this and this," giving him a buttered biscuit and apiece of cold meat; "and carry the rest home. There is enough for you,your mother, and Ella, to have a good dinner."

  Poor Johnny was dumb with astonishment. He could scarcely realize thatall this was for him; but as the woman waited to see him eat, he pulledthe hard silver dollar from his pocket and held it out to her.

  "No! no!" she exclaimed; "give it to your mother. She'll know what todo with it, I dare say."

  That was a happy day for Johnny; almost the happiest he had ever known.He had begun it by giving up his own comfort for that of his mother andsister, and by-and-by God sent him friends to care for him.

  CHAPTER II.

  KIND FRIENDS.

  DONALD MILES was the name of the Superintendent of the stocking factory.He had just married a young wife, and brought her to live in one of thenew houses near the mill. She was a Christian woman, who tried to followher Master, and do good wherever she had opportunity. She took a classin the Sabbath school, and told her husband she meant to have somescholars from the factory. Two or three times she had noticed Johnnyrunning up the steps, and thought, "that boy is too small for suchwork." You can imagine, then, how she felt when she heard his simplestory.

  In the evening Johnny and his mother were eagerly talking over thevarious events and scenes of the day when Mrs. Miles opened the doorand presented herself before them.

  "I feel sure," she had said to her husband, "that the child told me thetruth. His eyes were too honest to deceive; but still I mean to go thisvery day and see for myself. Why, they have nothing to eat and are onthe very verge of starvation!"

  "I wish, Johnny," Mrs. Talbot was saying, "that the dollar was ours; andthen you should have a pair of shoes; but it is not, and we mustcontrive some way to find the owner."

  The room was very poor, but clean as hands could make it. On the floorin the corner was a straw bed, between the windows, a long chest, andnear the fire three small w
ooden stools standing before an old ricketytable.

  Mrs. Miles soon convinced the poor woman that she was a friend; and,before the visit was ended, she found that though one was very poor, andthe other comparatively rich, there was one tie which bound themtogether,--they both loved Christ, and looked forward to living with himforever in heaven.

  When she rose to go she said to Johnny,--

  "I'll take the dollar with me, and ask my husband what shall be done tofind the owner, and I'll see about the work for you right away. Why,"she added, with a smile, "I can earn a dollar a day closing socks; and Inever was called smart with my needle; so keep up good courage. Betterdays are coming for us."

  "But I've tried a great many times to get work," answered the poorwoman, shaking her head. "They always told me there was none."

  Mrs. Miles gave her head a little toss, as much as to say, "No one needtell me that story." Then she laughed as she exclaimed,--

  "Well, if I can't get work for you, I'll bring you mine. You need itmore than I do. Now don't cry,--it will hurt your eyes; but say yourprayers and go to bed. I'll be sure to come again soon."

  When she shut the door, Mrs. Talbot began to cry; but these were happytears, which brought relief to her overburdened heart. Then she said toJohnny,--

  "Let us kneel down and thank God for sending us such a friend."

  "O mother!" exclaimed the boy, when they arose from prayer; "wasn't thatbread and butter nice? I never tasted anything so good."

  "Yes, dear; and when your father was alive we had bread and butter everyday."

  The next morning, when the little boy went to his work, he looked allabout for his kind friend; but he did not see her until he had beendismissed for dinner. He was passing along the sidewalk, when he heard atap on the window of a house close by, and, looking up, he saw Mrs.Miles beckoning to him. She had a bundle rolled up in a towel, which shetold him to give his mother, and tell her she would have company in theevening.

  And true enough, just as Ella was safely in bed, there was a knock atthe humble door, and Mrs. Miles walked in, followed by her husband.

  Johnny had never seen this gentleman except in the factory; and then helooked very grave as he talked with the men or with merchants who camefrom the city. Now it was very different. His young wife had told him apitiful story about the widow; and he came prepared to help her.

  "So you were lucky to-day, Johnny, and found a dollar," he began, takingthe silver piece from his pocket. "I have made inquiries for you, andcan find no one who claims it; so I think you may keep it with a goodconscience."

  Johnny's eager face expressed his thanks.

  "What would you like to buy with it?"

  "A pair of shoes, sir."

  "Well, come on to the shoe-store."

  "Yes," said the lady, with a smile; "and while you are gone, I'll giveMrs. Talbot a lesson in closing the seams of the stockings."

  CHAPTER III.

  THE NEW BOOTS.

  AS they walked together toward the store, Mr. Miles became as muchinterested in his young companion as his wife could have wished. Thechild discovered so much intelligence, and had evidently been so welltrained, that the superintendent fully agreed with Mrs. Miles, thatit was a pity he should not have a chance to go to school.

  Mr. Mills going with Johnny to buy Shoes

  Series II, vol. iii, p. 32.]

  When they reached the store, the gentleman said, laughing,--

  "Show us your best goods, now; we want a pair of stout brogans, such asyou can warrant will turn water."

  "For him?" asked the merchant, nodding his head toward Johnny.

  "Yes, for him. You see he needs them badly enough."

  "Boots would be better."

  "Ah, yes."

  Mr. Miles's eyes began to twinkle. He had a happy thought; and so he putJohnny's silver dollar, which he had been twirling by the string, intohis vest pocket, and began to examine carefully one pair after anotherof the boots laid out for him on the counter.

  "This is a good pair," he said, at last. "What is the price?"

  "Three dollars. I'll warrant those; they are custom made; but they weretoo small for the child whose mother ordered them. I should havecharged her five if they'd suited."

  "Yes, I see they're first-rate boots,--what, in the hose line, I shouldcall 'A, number one.' Now I'll tell you what I propose. This littlefellow is the son of a widow, who, when my wife found her, had literallynot one mouthful of food. Just think of such destitution if you can!--agood Christian, too; but the death of her husband and her own longsickness have exhausted everything. I propose to give half the price,and let you give the other."

  "Oh, I can't afford that! Why, I've taken off two dollars already."

  "Look here, now," urged Mr. Miles; "I'm going to start a subscriptionfor the benefit of the widow. It would make your heart ache to see howvery destitute she is of everything. I want your name down, of course; Imust have it. So here goes,--'Allen Manning, one dollar and a half.'There, you'll be glad whenever you think of having made a child happyand comfortable."

  "Well, if you say so, I suppose I must."

  "Thank you. Now I want your wife to join with mine and just make thewidow's hovel a little more tenantable. They'll work together finely, Iknow. Mrs. Miles says she is sure a little nourishing food will do morefor the poor soul than a shop-full of medicine. You see, the poorcreature thinks herself in a decline."

  Mr. Manning tied up the bundle and handed it to Johnny; and then the twostarted off for home, the boy having looked the thanks his tremblinglips refused to utter.

  "Now, Johnny," said Mr. Miles, "here's your medal; wear it around yourneck as long as you are a truthful boy. When you tell your first lie,bring it to me."

  "I don't dare to tell lies, sir; mother says God hates liars; but 'thosethat speak the truth are his delight.'"

  "That's true doctrine; and here we are."

  Mrs. Miles opened the door when she heard her husband's voice, and said,in a pleasant tone, and manner,--

  "She learned the stitch in half the time I did."

  The proud husband tapped her glowing cheek. I am sure he was thinkingwhat a darling little wife he had. And when Johnny eagerly related thestory of the boots, I know she thought,--

  "That is so like Donald; he has such a noble heart."

  "And I have the medal,--I mean the dollar, too, mother. I'm to keep ittill I tell a lie."

  "Which I hope will never happen, dear. But did you thank our good,generous friends? I have no words to express my gratitude."

  "Never mind for words, Mrs. Talbot. Good-night."

  CHAPTER IV.

  A SAD STORY.

  IT was, indeed, time that help should come to the poor widow, for acough had fastened itself on her lungs, which would soon have ended herlife. The room was damp and chilly, and her clothing quite too scant forwinter. Mrs. Miles would not wait till she had earned money to buy woodand clothing and food.

  "They would all freeze and starve," she told the people where she wentbegging. "I want to get something to save their lives; and then, whenshe is comfortable, the woman can earn enough to support her family."

  In two weeks you would never have known the room; the glass was mended,and now the sun shone in. There was a pretty, old-fashioned bedstead,four nicely painted chairs, a table with leaves, a tiny mirror, a patchspread, and the cunningest little cooking-stove, which kept the roombeautifully warm. At least, Johnny thought so when he came dancing homefrom his work.

  Besides all this, Mrs. Miles had procured from an old lady some healingsyrup, which had nearly cured the troublesome cough; and Mrs. Talbotcould sew now very well, without that terrible pain in her side.

  She told her dear friend one day, that if she could only forget her pasttrouble, she should be quite happy,--happier than she had ever expectedto be again.

  "You must tell me about your troubles," Mrs. Miles said. And oneafternoon, when Johnny was at work in the factory, and Ella was takingher nap, Mrs. Talbot be
gan,--

  "I was married when I was only seventeen, and went with my husband tothe western part of New York State. He was a carpenter, and could getgood wages, which supported us in great comfort. Johnny was almost sevenyears old when Dexter, that is, my husband, told me he wanted to bringhome one of his workmen to live with us. The man had no home, and, as hedid not think it right to spend his evenings in a tavern, he was verylonely. His name was Robert Hardy, and he gave very little trouble. Hegrew to be fond of Johnny, and spent many leisure hours in amusing himand making him playthings.

  "But one day he came home sick; and for two weeks he never left his bed.Dexter and I took all the care of him. When he grew better, he went awayto his mother. He sat by the fire thinking. I expected he would thankus; but he did not. He held Dexter's hand like a vise; and he tried tosay good-by to me; but his voice failed. I have never seen him since. Ifeel sure he was grateful. The doctor had told him our care saved hislife.

  "The very night he left, Dexter grew delirious; he had stayed at homewith a cold for a week. The doctor came again, and said he had taken thefever.

  "Oh, those were dreadful days! He grew worse and worse, and I--it breaksmy heart when I think that I had nursed a stranger, and couldn't nursemy own husband--I was lying on a bed in the same room; and my littleElla lay beside me. Every moan of Dexter's went through my heart; andwhen he died, all hope and joy died with him. I cared for nothing. Iremember but little of those long, weary months which followed. I shouldhave died but for the kindness of my neighbors.