Page:American Journal of Sociology Volume 8.djvu/862

842 class young Jew smart, cunning, with an inveterate propensity to lie in wait for shady opportunities, and chuckle over them in retrospect. He is still the newsboy, the itinerant street vender, the seeker after "swipes" of every description. He has been placed from time to time in good situations. He is generally liked by his employers, but he will not stay with them; in every case he soon wanders back to the street. He seems to make sufficient money, and he sometimes stops me to recount with pride the efforts he is making in behalf of "de kids," who are fast growing up, and will soon be out in the world for themselves.

It may be said of our Ishmael that he is always a liar, if not from the womb, at least from the doorstep whence he makes his first plunge into the world. He is a fighter, of course; his little fist is always clenched, and he is as noisy and vainglorious in his bullying as the sparrows that share the street with him. Not long since on a crowded street in Milwaukee, my attention was attracted to a writhing tangle of small legs and arms in the gutter beside me. Descending to investigate, I discovered two newsboys administering a "thumping" to a smaller boy, a mere mite, possibly five years old. The mite's pretty yellow curls were all mud-bedabbled, and his tears mingled with gore from his smitten nose as he rose and promptly ran away upon my releasing him. "Very nice boys you are!" I remarked severely, as I set the culprits upon the curbstone, keeping fast hold of their ragged collars as I did so. "Two big boys beating a little one!" "Well, well!" they both eagerly protested at once; "wat does he allers cut in ahead for? De folks buys papers off him 'cause he's little und his hair curls. He ain't no better'n us. We told him to keep on his own beat; but he won't—no! And when a man stops to buy a paper, up he comes a-runnin' und sticks hisself in; und de ladies dey say, 'Oh, wat a prettey boy! Wat lo-ovely curls!' (this in high falsetto voice, and with indescribable affectations of fine ladyism). "We'll pretty him. Dere he goes now." They snatched their collars from my hold, and sped away in pursuit of their interrupted vengeance.

One trait of our boy, that stands in the way of his social