THE [LETTER-BOX.]
A BRAVE GIRL.
One summer day, in Union square, New York City, a beautiful deed was done, which our frontispiece tells so well as almost to leave no need of words. A poor blind man started to cross the street just as a car was rapidly approaching. He heard it coming, and, growing confused, stood still—his poor, blind face turned helplessly, pathetically up, as if imploring aid. Men looked on heedlessly, regardless of his danger, or the voiceless appeal in his sightless eyes.
Suddenly, from among the passers-by, a young girl sprang to his side, between him and the great horses which were so near they almost touched her, laid her dainty hand on his, and led him safely over the street, and with gentle words that brought a smile to his withered old face, set him safely on his way.
It was a brave, kindly act, and one may be sure it was neither the first nor the last, of the brave girl who did it.
If Charles Dudley Warner had never been a boy, it would have been impossible for him to write the very interesting little volume he calls "Being a Boy," for it is evident that he knows well, from experience, all that he writes about. It may be that many of our young readers have seen this book, for it has already reached several editions; but if there are any of them who have not read it, and who take an interest in the life of boys who are born, and brought up, and have fun, and drive oxen, and go fishing, and turn grindstones, and eat pumpkin-pie, and catch wood-chucks, all on a New England farm, they would do well to get the book and read it.
If any of those who read it are boys on a farm in New England, they will see themselves, as if they looked in a mirror; and if any of them are city boys or girls, or live in the South or West, or anywhere in the world but in New England, they will see what sort of times some of the smartest and brightest men in our country had, before they grew up to be governors, book-writers, and other folks of importance.