THE YOUNG LIBRARIAN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 3899, 15 October 1880, Page 4

THE YOUNG LIBRARIAN.

On a foggy November afternoon at about 4 o'clock, a little lad was seen in one of the main thoroughfares of London ; not far from St. Paul's churchyard. Though poorly clad, his face and hands were not dirty, and there was an expression of intelligence and truthfulness on his open countenance, which could not fail to arrest tho attention of anyone who would take the trouble to look at him. The boy had evidently a fixed object in his walk, for, though he occasionally gave a shiver as the cold Bleet forced its way through his scanty clothing, he kept manfully on his way. The lamplighter was busily engaged in his work, and the yellow gaslight made tho fog appear all the nioie weird, and the foot-pas-sengers assumed the most fantastic shapes as they emergedfrom outof thegloom. Apparently the boy had at length reached his destination wheu ho paused before the window of a bookseller's shop ; and planting himself firmly before it, ho gazed with hungering eyes at tho books and magazines within. Several of tho volumes were opened to display tho pictures and type, and tho little boy appeared as if quito lost in the enjoyment of reading all he could by the uncertain light. Moving along from one end of the shop-front to the other, hia eyes suddenly lighted on something which caused him to exclaim : " Oh, my ! I wish they'd take me." Following tho direction of hi3 glance, one might have read, '' An errand boy wanted." JNever pausing to consider, the boy impulsively entered the Bhop — which was also a large library — and addressed a young man standing behind the counter. " Please, sir, will I do ?" "Will you do ?" said the young man ; "do for what ?" " For the errand boy," he replied. " I'm twelve years old." The young shopman laughed, " Oh ! yes, I should say you would do," ho replied, " especially in your present clothes. Who do you think would trust you to take out parcels and valuable books ? Come, you'd better go your way," he added, " beforo the master comes." Unseen by either, the owner of tbe shop had entered, and he could not help feeling sorry for the boy, who had flushed up at this unkind speech, and giving a deep sigh of disappointment us he glanced at his shabby clothes, turned to leave. Then Mr Foxe spoke. " What is thy name, little friend ?" he asked, kindly. The boy turned and answered quickly, " Harry Curtis, sir." " And whore dost thou live ?" " In Golden Ball Alley, with Nan Crimble, sir." " Hast thou no mother, then, my poor boy ?" again inquired the old gentleman, who had once beon a quaker, and still retained the primitive form of speech, though he had long sinco become a member of the Church of England. The little fellow's eye3 filled with tears at the kind tones of Mr Foxe's voice. He quickly brushed them away with the sleove of his jacket as he replied, " Mother died six months ago, and so I livo now with Nan Crimble, and help her with her orange-stall, but I don't like it ; I want to live where there are books," he Baid eagerly, and his eyes strayed away to the book shelves, and he seemed to be trying to _atr.om the contents by reading the titles. " Let me hear how thou canst read," said Mr Foxe, placing a book in his hands. It was a volume of Macaulay's Essays, and in spite of the long words, — of many of which ho could notgra.p the meaning, — Harry acquitted himself very well. " Hast thou any one to speak a good word for thee, my lad ?'' " There's Nan, sir," ho replied, an answer which was greeted by a low laugh from the assistant : even Mr Foxe broiled, but eaid : " And no one el. c, my boy." " Thr re is the clergyman, sir, who came to seo mother when she was iii " " Oh !" said Mr Foxe, " then if thou canst tell me his name, and where ho lives, I will inquire about thee." " I don't know where he lives," said Harry, " but he preaches at a big church, near Golden Ball Alley. Nan would know, perhaps, sir." " Well, then, I will como and see Nan tomorrow," said the old bookseller, who was irresistibly taken with ths child's frank face ; "thou art very joung, but if I find the clergyman knows anything in thy favour, I will try thee for a wot k." " Oh ! thank you, sir, I will do my very best to please you, sir," exclaimed Harry, and then he made his way back to his miserable attic home, to tell Nan of what was to him such good news. To his surprise, the old woman did not seem very glad to hear it. "Ju t like tliem all," she grumbled, "there's no such thing as gratitood in the world — after all I've done for you ; and who'll put up my stall now o' mornings, I should liko to know." " Oh, Nan," pleaded the boy, " please let mo tube tho place if I can get it, and I will ulways get up in timo to eettlo your stall for the day, beforo Igo to work." And then he applied himself lo his t:i»k of fanning the few slicks in tho grate to boil the kettle for their tea. Mr Foxe, true to hia promise, found his way to Golden Ball Alley. Ihe first houso in the court was a pawnbroker'*?, and then followed some ten or twolvo miserable dwellings. His interview with Nan was short, she enlarged on Harry's v* aut of grutitood in leaving her to shift for herself ; but Mr Foxe could not make out that tho boy had much to be grateful to her for. Having procured the name of tho olergyman, and that of the church of which he was tho vicar, he took his leave.

From tho reverend Mr Lang ho gained moro information, and learnt that the boy had been sent regularly to school during hia mother's lif .-time, and had there shown a great fondness for his books. The schoolmaster aleo spoke ot him as a most promising boy, and said he would tot hesitate to say tliat Harry Curtis would be sure to get on if ho had but the least encouragement. He was quito sorry to loso him as a pupil when, at his mother's death, there was no one to pay for hi. schooling. Mr Lang gave it as his opinion that tho bookseller would not have cause to regret it if he gavo the boy a trial. " Then I will tako thy word for him, sir," said Mr Foxe, as be thanked the good clergyruin and withdrew. Some decent clothes wero given to Harry by his new master, and he began his work in a few days' time. Homo was not built in a day, nor did the little boy in a day get used to his new duties. The regular hours too wore at first irksomo to bim, for ho had never been accustomed to measure his days by the clock. But perseverance brings its own reward, and Harry would not have exchanged his situation as errand boy for any inducement that could have been offered him. To him the library shel. ej contained a world of delight, and he soon became invaluable to his master for the order in which he kept the books, so that at a moment's notice be could place his hand on any work that was asked for. The shop assistant had never been of much use in this r. spect, and Mr Foxo was much pleased with the wise choice he had made. At the end of the first six months, Harry — to his great surprise, found his wages were increased ; but this was nothing to the kind interest which his master manifested in him ; and then, too, he was allowed to read some of the books, and improve himself in his spare moments, and he went regularly to a nightecho.l when his day's work was over. It is now four years since poor little Harry waa looking into the bookseller's shop on that November afternoon, and one can hardly recognise him in the tall youth of sixteen, who is now hia master's right hand. He did not neglect hia old friend, Nan Crimble, aa he became better off, but as soon as possible, they moved to more comfortable clean lodgings, nearer to the shop. Mr Lang and the schoolmaster are gratified at finding that their interest has not been misplaced, and can now point with satisfaction to the Young Librarian who gives promise of becoming as he grows up an industrious clever tradesman.