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was no use.

herd his foundlings into a downtown restaurant and feed them, from their wide spreading little toes to the top of their unkempt heads. And the lecture on morals and spiritual advice that might have been recommended for their system on such an occasion is still coming to them.

His next step was to procure an old residence at No. 2700 Locust street, and with such faith that the citizens of St. Louis were ashamed not to respond he gathered his little flock into the empty dwelling. And then he went out soliciting the second time. There

He couldn't be downed. He couldn't be shown the error of his ways. His ideals were built on a rock and were firm and unshakable. And in the meantime, what with the responsibility of a family of a dozen or so of empty urchins in an empty house, Father Dunne's own clothes were getting seedy and a little shiny. But with a concentration of efiort that would have made a Missouri mule adapt itself harmoniously to the situation, Father Dunne pounded and walked. He tramped boulevards and was seen in the elevators of the big office buildings. He was seen in the banks, in the stores and in churches. And soon, as he said with his serious, kindly smile-a smile that had never deserted him in all his struggles-he found "things coming his way."

chuck the chin of an urchin standing with folded arms in a Hamlet soliloquy attitude, an attention which he scowlingly submitted to. The scowl vanished, however, as the priest in passing pushed him gently aside.

Not Making Angels. "All I try to teach the boys," said Father Dunne, "is that they must respect the ladies and the church. And I have found that everything else follows. We are not trying to turn them into angels."

Having noticed a tiny figure standing moodily on the opposite sidewalk in front of the home. I asked if he occupied any official position, recruiting officer or guard?

"No," replied Father Dunne, "he's just considering application for entrance. Here, Johnny, run over there and bring that boy over."

Johnny returned with the stranger, who bore in every muscle of his stubborn little face defiance to his luck. He was questioned with the following results:

"Where do you live?"
“Don't live no-where."
"Where's your folks?"
"Where's your mother?”
"Ain't got any."

“Don't know. Never saw her. Ain't got none that er know of."

"Why didn't you come on over with us, then?”
"What's a guy got to do to git in here, anyhow?”

"First you have to take a bath, my boy," said Father Dunne, as he drew the little defiant “lonely” up against him and patted the sullen, dirty cheek. And no one but Father Dunne understood the dumb, awkward gratefulness that made the new boy follow the priest about the entire afternoon.

“They all like me," said Father Dunne. “They don't know how to make a speech. Often when I buy one of them a suit of clothes he takes it seemingly as a matter of course. But after the rest have gone to bed he comes down and knocks at my door. I open the door and take his hand and tell him good night, and we both understand.”

This is why Father Dunne doesn't have to add dungeons to his equipment or put the boys under lock and key to keep them. He understands.

No Mollycoddles There. Things continued to come, until now, if you visit the home on Washington and Garrison, you will find a modern establishment fitted up for the convenience and comfort of a normal, healthy boy. And the boys you will find there are extremely normal, extremely healthy, for it is the sentiment of the entire aggregation of newsies that there shall be no "mollycoddle" among them.

But they are Father Dunne's boys. The dignity and strength and kindliness of his character dominates the entire institution, or I should say home (Father Dunne forbids the title institution), and performs the miracle of turning incorrigibles, Father Dunne says that the only incorrigibles he has found are the parents of the newsies. He says that the word incorrigible, when applied to a boy, is "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

"A boy," says Father Dunne, “becomes a so-called incorrigible when his father and mother and older brothers and sisters take it on themselves to punctuate his every action with "Don't.”

And, by the way, that is a word you never hear at the home. The leaders, with Jimmy Flemming at the head, are the priest's generals, and each has his battalion that he rounded into line. Father Dunne is only the court of last Tesort. A case of very great significance as to who's got "pewee" or "reddie" during the season of marbles is, of course, laid before the higher tribunal.

It was at this stage of a serious trial, with Father Dunne standing between the defendant and plaintiff, weighing the evidence with a seriousness becoming to a Chief Justice of the United States, that the visitor appeared. She was not noticed until the trial had been concluded, and each party had accepted the decree as final with the utmost satisfaction.

To sit down to an interview with Father Dunne is impossible, as he is constantly in demand about the premises. So the visitor followed him about. Noting the variety of costumes and widely divergent tastes in the dress of the groups about the playground, I inquired whether a uniform apparel would not blend into more harmonious view from the Washington avenue side of the grounds, but Father Dunne instantly turned the suggestion down with the information that he was not running a reform school, or a jail or an orphan asylum.

"Oh," I returned somewhat abashed as I stooped to

Predicts Their Future. “Yes," said Father Dunne, continuing in eulogy of his family, “my boys will one day be at the heads of the banks and in the big positions of this city. I've got many of them that are coming right up to the top. I'm doing the best I can for them and they are going to make good.

“There's been lots of silly talk about the management of boys. You've heard some-fool man say that he could look at a boy and tell what's in him. That's stuff and nonsense. If that man had had the hard luck of some of my fellows, you could look at him a month and not find any good in him.

"Why,” he declared, with that triumphant smile that shows you so well how he did it, “I've had boys that I've taken right out of the Juvenile Court, and the officers told me they wouldn't trust them across the road, to come right home with me and stay. And better boys you never saw.

“Why, a lot of people wouldn't believe me if I told them I send my 100 boys upstairs and they go to bed and you can hear a pin drop. There's not the least disturbance, not a single pillow fight.”

Frequently when the boys come in for bed there's a new one among them.

"Who sent you here?” asks Father Dunne. "Some fellows said you took 'em here,” is the reply. The next morning a boy is sent to the aunt, uncle, grand

mother, or whatever relative or place the boy says he hailed from. Often, Father Dunne says, he brings back the message to keep the run-away. "I am glad,” the relative replies, “that he has fallen , into good hands. If Father Dunne can do anything with the youngster, he is welcome to him."

The who rang the bell at the home one night at dusk and applied for entrance, with his nightshirt under his arm, saying he made too many at his home," is a type, Father Dunne declares.

"And there's another thing,” explained the priest, as he opened the door to the bathrooms, "you've heard it said that boys don't like to bathe. That's not so. There is nothing they enjoy more.”

“A novelty to them, perhaps," I ventured.

"Yes," laughed father, as he told of a boy 14 years of age who had never seen a bathroom.

“He stayed in there the entire afternoon, and when I finally had to come to get him out for bed, he poked his dripping shoulders out of the crack and said: 'I ain't done yet.'”

Father Dunne has his own theories about training his family from which he does not deviate, notwithstanding the gentle manner and courteous attention with which he receives suggestions from voluble visitors. One day he was showing a fashionably-gowned lady who had just alighted from her automobile outside through the etablishment.

“But, my dear sir," the visitor observed as she raised her lorgnette and took a view of the long, clean kitchen in which several maids were busily engaged cleaning up the dishes and preparing supper, "why do you not train your boys to do the cooking and kitchen work and thus save in the expenses of the house?”

“Because, Madam," said Father Dunne gently, "I do not mean my boys to marry women in the public eye, I mean them to have good home wives to take care of their homes."

“Do let me see where they eat. Do you know, I am so very interested in this work. Why, look here, isn't it funny, they have knives and forks and dear little china cups. Why, I thought you would have tin cups for them.”

make a speech. “Then how," I asked of W. J. Kinsella, who had given largely to the Newsboys' Home, "does he manage to convince you business men to the extent of a thousanddollar check or two?"

"Well, I don't know how it is. As a rule, I am not particularly open to conviction to the schemes of charity work rs. But Father Dunne-well, Father Dunne is in a class by himself. You wouldn't exactly call him a charity worker. He's too human. How he gets past the secretary and office people I don't know, but when I look up there he is standing so timidly and embarrassed holding his hat awkwardly, his whole attitude saying that he wouldn't ask if he could help it. He does not say much, just a few simple words to explain his errand, but his face is so honest, his voice so sincere and his manner so simple and truthful that -well, you can't look up and argue with him. You just hold your head down and reach for your check book."

Martin Shaughnessy says its Father Dunne's gentle way of holding his hat and stroking his chin that makes you "come across.”

And so it was with Mayor Wells, Festus J. Wade, Julius Walsh, Dan Nugent, R. C. Kerens, Louis Brinkwirth, D. D. Walker, A. D. Brown, R. H. Stockton, Adolphus Busch, P. 0. Gallagher and the others whose names grace the list of benefactors in the Newsboys Journal. They all say it is the absolute sincerity of the man. Perhaps it is the same quality which appeals to the business man as that which is making citizens out of the street urchins of St. Louis. "Well," I said, as I took leave, "you ought to be happy

You've got your new home and you've got it full of boys.”

“Yes," he replied, “but when I get my new $30,000 wing, I can enlarge my printing office and take in twice as many boys."

“Oh, dear me, more money," I exclaimed, as I walked away. But I left him smiling confidently—that grave, convincing smile that has moved mountains and will move more.



Not a Jail.




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“Did you think it was a jail, madam?” said Father Dunne, his great patience telling under the strain.

"But how do you get on with the housework? I should think you'd need a housekeeper."

"Oh, I'm just going down now to do the washing," answered the priest, losing his temper as much as it is possible for him to do so. And the lady actually believed he did the family washing.

One of the newest members of the home is a little Hungarian boy 3 years old. The child was found on the streets of East St. Louis and as he could furnish no definite address was brought to Father Dunne. All his baby tongue could accomplish with his cognomen was “Pete." And that's how he goes in the home. When he gets fiercely angry, as he does frequently, he howls “Ughfkjlbvupollock," an epithet which makes the jaws of his companions drop with astonishment. On the occasion of the above mentioned lady's visit, Pete's beautiful liquid-brown eyes, rosebud mouth and olive complexion attracted her attention.

"You darling little fellow," she exclaimed in delight, as she coyly pinched his pretty cheek.

“Ughekjlytrvupollocksky," yelled Pete, as he snappel at her daintily gloved hand with that same rosebud mouth.

"Oh!" screamed the lady. “What a horrible child!" and gathering her skirts she made a hasty retreat, while Father Dunne assisted her in the machine.

It is said of Father Dunne that he never was known to

On March 31, 1908, one hundred thirty four

in Juvenile Court, Milwaukee Co., Wis., were dismissed by Judge Neele B. Neelen, Judge of the Juvenile Court, upon the recommendation of Chief Probation Officer William F.

Of this number three were girls. The majority of the boys were delinquents, who had been on probation for from three months to a year, and having made good at their work, in school and home, were released from probation.

Gathered in the court chambers, were 131 boys, with happy faces, eagerly waiting for the Judge, their friend and advisor to talk to them. The proud parents, friends, and relatives were also present. The regular cases for the day were disposed of, then the Judge, with smiling face, walked down in the midst of the boys, welcomed them and congratulated them for being strong and firm in their efforts to do right.

“Will you tread the right path in the future?" asked the Judge. “Yes, sir,” they replied in unison. Then he urged the boys to have some regular home duties to perform, which would keep them out of mischief.

Happy with their release, the throng left the court room. Many, grateful for the assistance given them, lingered, thanked the Judge and their officers, and then left, feeling as one said, “I now have a start on the right road, and am going to stick.'

St. Charles School Wards Glad When the Gymnasium and Swimming

Tank Opens.

The Commercial Club of Chicago was cheered by 350 bright-faced happy boys on Saturday, May 23, 1908.

The ovation, loud and prolonged, echoed over the hills about the St. Charles School for Boys when the new $50,000 gymnasium and swimming tank given to the institution by the club was formally turned over to the board of trustees. A special train provided by President Marvin Hughitt of the Northwestern road conveyed the Chicago delegation to St. Charles.

And while the little fellows with hair combed and faces shinnig, expressed their delight and appreciation, memories of boyhood days and the "old swimming hole" were recalled by some of the “grown ups.”

It was a gala day, for the institution and a merry holiday for the donators.

The administration building and the various dormitories about the grounds, with their decorations of flags and bunting, reflected the spirit of the occasion.

The formal presentation speech was made in the assembly hall by Rollin A. Keyes, president of the Commercial Club.

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Boys Meet Delegation.

Sprague, the first steps were taken which resulted in the founding of the Chicago Manual Training School, now a part of the University of Chicago, and ever since that time they have given a great deal of thought to the subject and are very much pleased at the assistance they have been able to render, both here and for the School at Glenwood.

"The Trustees are to be congratulated at the exceptional opportunity here given them at St. Charles, for doing for these boys, that which should result in such an immense benefit to the State. "If the opportunity is great the responsibility is no less

To have the care of a boy's development and training, a boy who, in most instances, starts out in this life with an environment not of the best, is an undertaking that cannot be too carefully considered or too deeply appreciated.

"Every boy has his own peculiar make up and needs individual study and care. No two are alike, and the workings of his mind are very much more complicated and intricate than the works of the finest watch. A child may be led to adantage, he can never be driven to the formation of a good, sound, self respecting character.

"I express the hope of the Commercial Club that the Trustees of the St. Charles School will take the lead among the institutions of the State and that public sentiment may be so aroused that the work of “St. Charles" and of its administration, shall be determined by the character developed in the boys, and not by a difference of a fraction of a cent per diem, more or less, in the cost of their food. We are encouraged in this hope by our confidence in the personnel of this Board of Trustees.

“The time will come, and indeed is here now. when this school will be judged not by the discipline within its limits, not exclusively by the cost of maintenance, but by the men its boys become.

"What the State of Illinois needs is, that these boys go out into the world with a well formed character, and a feeling that their neighbors are their friends. No honest cost is too high for such a result.

"In the dedication of this building now placed in the hands of the State, the Commercial Club of Chicago most cordially expresses the wish that every success may attend the efforts of the Trustees and of their administration.

Timothy D. Hurley, president of the board of trustees, in accepting the gift on behalf of the institution, said:

“The gymnasium will help us to teach the boys the practical aspects of manhood. There perhaps could have been devised no gift that would have contributed more to the happiness of our little wards or that could have combined toward their betterment both physically and morally. Through the development of brawn and muscle there also comes the development of the mental faculties, so that to an institution such as St. Charles the gymnasium and swimming tank is a factor of great value. To the Commercial Club of Chicago the board of trustees is deeply grateful and in this gratitude and appreciation we are joined by the boys whose lives here now are made more happy."

Among others who spoke were Stanley Field, Judges Julian W. Mack and Richard S. Tuthill.


When the delegation from Chicago arrived shortly before noon it was met at the train by the boys, all in uniform and headed by their band. Among the little hosts were many who before their arrival at St. Charles had been accorded far less than their allotted share of happiness. Some had tired of their lives of squalor and misery and had been found by probation officers roaming about Chicago's streets. For various reasons, through the medium of the Juvenile Court, they had been transported from the city streets to the large farm in the green hills of Kane County.

But whatever their life tragedies may have been happiness was spelled in each face of the little army as it marched before the guests to the gymnasium. Then while the band played a big flag, given by Benjamin Carpenter, was unfurled on a pole set directly in front of the building.

The delegation, after hearing the boys sing the “StarSpangled Banner" and "Illinois," inspected the gymnasium and the swimming tank in

back of the main building. While the visitors roamed through the building the boys crowded about the tank eager for their "first swim," which event will come to-day.

The gymnasium, too, will be thrown open to-day, the cross-bars, “horses" and other furnishings having arrived at the institution shortly before the Chicago guests appeared.

The Dedication exercises were held in the Assembly Hall - Judge Richard S. Tuthill presided.

Mr. Keyes, was the first speaker introduced and presenting the building to the guests spoke as follows:

“This is surely a day for congratulations. The Commercial Club of Chicago is to be congratulated that it has been able to serve the boys of the State in presenting this beautiful building we have just visited to the St. Charles School, and also for the fact that the Trustees have so well chosen, that the building, to bear the name of the Club I have the honor to represent, shall be used as a gymnasium“The Commercial Club Gymnasium for the St. Charles Boys."

"The Commercial Club believes thoroughly in a practical education for our boys. They believe in Industrial education, and agricultural as well.

“Twenty-six years ago, under the Presidency of Mr.


Luncheon for Visitors.

Following the speaking luncheon was served in cottage F LIFE'S MIRROR.

and in the afternoon the guests made a tour of inspection of the buildings and grounds.

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave

There are souls that are pure and true; Then give to the world the best you have,

And the best shall come back to you.

THE BUILDINGS AND GROUNDS. Members of the Commercial Club present besides Mr. Keyes were:

E. A. Hamill, Charles L. Hutchinson, William A. Fuller, John M. Clark, Judge Julian W. Mack, W. D. Beck, John E. Wilder, Frank H. Armstrong, A. D. Wheeler, J. W. Scott.

The trustees were represented by President T. D. Hurley, Judge Richard S. Tuthill, Benjamin Carpenter, Stanley Field, Colonel H. H. Davis of Springfield and W. J. Conzelman of Peoria.

Superintendent O. W. Hart of the institution was unable to participate in the celebration because of illness.--Chicago Record-Herald.

Give love, and love to your heart will flow,

A strength in your utmost need; Have faith and a score of hearts will show

Their faith in your word and deed.

For life is the mirror of king and slave,

'Tis just what you are and do; Then give to the world the best you have

And the best shall come back to you.

The Imprisonment of Winifred Mary.

By Hannah G. Fernald.

est of all my dolls, and the prettiest, and I've always taken such care of her!"

“Winifred Mary is missing!” announced Sylvia, as she cast, a practiced eye over her assembled dolls.

Sylvia's Uncle Joe put down his newspaper and looked at her with amused interest.

"Hadn't you better call the roll?" he suggested, and Sylvia, in some anxiety, began her arrangements for this nightly ceremony. She arranged the dolls in an orderly line, and then said inquiringly, “Arabella?"

Arabella, a tall, flaxen-haired doll, arose, assisted by Sylvia, and responded in a small, high voice, “Present!"


Belinda was present also; so were Isabel, Susie, and Carlotta. There was a painful silence after the calling of Winifred Mary's name. Winifred Mary was clearly absent, and so, as it later appeared, was Florabella.

“Two!" mourned Sylvia. “I don't mind so much about Florabella, but-0, Uncle Joe!” For Uncle Joe had drawn from his pocket a small, disheveled creature. "Which is this?” he asked. “I found her under the currant bushes."

Sylvia always remembered after things were found just how she had happened to leave them in such singular places. It seemed a pity, as Uncle Joe frequently pointed out, that she never could remember before.

"That's Florabella!” she exclaimed. “I remember now. I was going to make a swing for her under the big currant bush, and then I went to feed my chickens and forgot. But what can have become of Winifred Mary? She's the small.

Uncle Joe tried to smother a laugh, and grandmother sighed. “Sylvia, child," she said, “I don't believe you know how to take care of anything. I have heard before of children who were careless enough to lose their hats and their overshoes, but I never knew another little girl who habitually lost her own dolls."

The next day Sylvia and Uncle Joe became a search party and hunted for Winifred Mary. They looked in the orchard, and the barn, and the carriage house, and the flower garden, and beside the brook; they found a handkerchief, two hair ribbons, and Belinda's best dress, but no trace of Winifred Mary was to be seen. A very small doll lost on a very large farm is not an easy thing to find.

Sylvia was an affectionate if a careless mother; she searched and mourned faithfully for the missing Winifred Mary, and included her name tenderly each night in the roll call. Uncle Joe soon saw in the window of the village shop a small doll which, he said, looked to him so strikingly like Sylvia's missing child that he brought it home to her. At first he was inclined to insist that this was Winifred Mary, but when Sylvia pointed out that the new doll had brown hair, whereas Winifred Mary's was golden yellow, and that she was so large that not one of Winifred Mary's tiny frocks could possibly be coaxed on to her, he was forced to admit that there was only a strong family resemblance. He wished the new doll to be called Winifred Mary, so that the roll call might be complete, but this Sylvia steadily refused to do. “Suppose Winifred Mary should be found?" she argued.


When are silks like the clouds?
When changeable.
When is a book like the holy days?
When lent.
When is a child at shool and a rope alike?
When taught (taut).
When is a message like a train of cars?
When special.
When is a boat like a hatter fitting a cap?
When it is cap-sized (capsized).
When is a man like Mount Blanc?
When peaked (piqued).

In September, when Sylvia said good-bye to grandmother and Uncle Joe and went back to the city, Winifred Mary was still missing. “I'll send her by express, if I find her," promised Uncle Joe, but Sylvia had given up hope.

Poor Winifred Mary was almost forgotten when one cold November morning a package arrived from the farm for Syliva.

"What can they have sent me in a round hat box?" she wondered, and she wondered still more when the box was opened and disclosed a very large cabbage.

“It must be one of Uncle Joe's jokes,” said Sylvia's mother. “Untie it, dear." For the cabbage had been cut in quarters and then tied together with red ribbon.

Sylvia untied the ribbon, the cabbage fell apart, and there, almost in its center, lay Winifred Mary!

"Why-why," began Sylvia, and then, as usual, she remembered. "Mother," she cried, “I put Winifred Mary down in a big cabbage-I thought it would make such a cunning house for her-and then I went back to get the other little dolls, and-and

"And you thought of something else to do and forgot poor Winifred Mary," finished her mother, when she had done laughing, "and the cabbage kept right on growing, and folded its big outer leaves over her and held her snug and warm-and how surprised grandmother must have been when she cut open that cabbage!"

"It's like the Faithful Tin Soldier in the fish," said Sylvia, solemnly; "but, oh, mother, suppose they had boiled the cabbage!"


Why do you wear a harassed and troubled look? Are you really in trouble, or are you allowing the little worries of life to grind furrows in your face? Take a glance at yourself in the mirror and reform—that is, reshape your face into the lines of comfort and good cheer which it ought to wear. Take an honest inventory of your troubles, and decide whether or not they are really worth advertising in your countenance. It may seem a little thing to you whether or not you wear a smiling face, but it is not a little thing. A serene look advises the tired and troubled men and women whom you meet that there is peace and joy in at least one heart. And there may be among them some who had begun to doubt if peace or joy existed at all. “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine."

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