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Fea, Samuel
Irish Ned
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E.S.Robinson, Esq., Librarian
Vancouver Public Library, B.C.
Irish Ned
THE WINNIPEG NEWSY
By
THE REV. SAACUEL FEA, M.A., PKD.
Rector of St. Peter's, Winnipeg
IRISH NED
IRISH NED
The WINNIPEG NEWSY
By
The Rev. Samuel Fea, M.A., Ph.D.
Rector of St. Peter's, Winnipeg
TORONTO
WILLIAM BRIGGS
1910
HD
6 a. 4-1
Copyright. Canada. 1910, by
SAMUEL FEA.
TO
TO WHOSE
LOVE I OWE SO
MUCH
IRISH NED
The Winnipeg Newsy
IRISH NED
THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
CHAPTER I.
"FREE PRESS! Tbune! Telegram! Papers,
sir? Three for a nickel! Press, Tbune and
Telegr-r-r-r a-m-m-m-m ! ' '
It was a hot afternoon in August, at the cor-
ner of Portage Avenue and Main Street, the
busiest thoroughfare in the busy city of Winni-
peg, now at its busiest and noisiest; but above
the noise and din of traffic rose shrill and clear
the persistent cry of " Press, Tbune and Tele-
gram!"
The speaker, or rather the shrieker, was a
boy not more than nine years old, and was at
the first glance just an ordinary boy, except
that he was small for his apparent age. His
clothes were patched in places, and his boots
were worn considerably, and the uppers were
just beginning to gape at the crack across the
top ; but the clothes were neat and clean, and
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
his boots were brushed. His hair was of the
straw-coloured variety, with a tendency to red,
but it was not tousled or unkempt, but neatly
combed ; while his little cap was not on straight
but pushed back carelessly, just showing a pair
of clear but dark-blue Irish eyes and a broad,
low forehead.
His neatness compelled a second glance, and
the second look at him proved interesting.
The boy's face was bright, cheerful and attrac-
tive, for with all the innocence written upon it
there was also the knowledge of good and evil,
together with the shrewdness born of an early
experience. But this shrewdness showed that
his innocence was his choice of the good and
rejection of the evil, and not merely because he
had been kept from contact with the evil. This
was Irish Ned, the Winnipeg newsy.
The prince of newsboys was little Irish Ned,
small in body, but great in mind, the acknowl-
edged leader of the select circle in which he
moved; always bright, winning, punctual and
strictly businesslike, he was admired by all
who knew and watched on the street for his
little dimpled smile. Of course it must be
admitted that at times there did come, now and
8
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
then, a bit of a scrimmage, but Ned was " quite
fit " for his size and weight any day; and after
all, " sure it was only a bit of fun, 1 ' as he was
known to say, " an' a body must have a bit of
a fight sometimes." Besides, being an Irish
boy, he dearly loved a " shindy," and Winni-
peg's wide streets provided ample room in
which to dodge a too powerful enemy. But for
all his teasing the big boys never bullied Ned,
for all of them loved his bright, intelligent face
and manly ways.
In the evening, after his papers were sold,
Ned used to wend his way to the schoolroom
of the church which was known to him and his
chums as " Peter's Church." There he spent
many a happy hour with the Gymnasium Club,
tumbling on the bars, swinging the clubs, per-
forming feats wonderful in the eyes of the
" greenies," and successfully wrestling with
boys twice his size. Many a prize did he carry
off, and many a " newsy " envied him the
night he won the gold button for being, as he
styled it, " the best kid in the whole bunch."
As a Boy Scout, he would sit for hours and
listen to the wonderful stories related by the
Scoutmaster, or play the grand game of Kim,
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
or join an expedition of endurance or skill or
discovery, on which the painstaking Scout-
master used to take and train his boys. A
proud boy indeed was Ned when with his
troop he marched with the Veterans and Mili-
tary to St. John's on " Decoration Day " to
place a wreath on the graves of the Canadian
heroes who gave their lives for Queen and
Country in the Rebellion of '85. His chest
would expand, his head would be lifted high,
and his step assume a manly stride, as the
band of " The L. B. D.'s," in which one of his
chums was playing, would strike up " The
Maple Leaf Forever," or " Pork, Beans and
Hard-tack, Hard-tack, Tra-la-la-la!"
But the greatest day of all the year to Ned
was the Sixth of July. That was the day, the
glorious day, of St. Peter's Picnic to Winnipeg
Beach. That was the day when Ned was in
his glory, and bubbled over with excitement.
Helping to carry the big banner, or dodging
here and there through the long procession of
children and teachers as it wound its way
along Selkirk and Main to the C. P. R. sta-
tion, his shrill voice leading every now and
then in the great yell, " Ice-cream, soda-water,
10
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
ginger-ale and pop! St. Peters, St. Peters,
they're always on the top." Ah! what a
glorious time it was! And then the big train
and the long ride, and the Beach, with its sand
and the boating and the swimming; the sports
in the afternoon, from which Ned managed to
carry off his share of the prizes; to say nothing
of the sumptuous dinner and supper for which
the teachers had worked and planned for many
moons. Ah, it was grand! And then to reach
home again in the gathering twilight, to scream
once more the dear old yell, " Always on the
top!" to fall asleep with the refrain, "Ice-
cream, soda-water," ringing in his ears, and
wishing each day were picnic-day ah, those
were the happy, happy spots in the life of little
Irish Ned, the Winnipeg Newsy.
ii
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
CHAPTER II.
LITTLE Irish Ned was scarcely three months
old when his mother died. His grandmother
reared him, and a hard fight she had to do it.
All went well for a time after his mother's
death, but when Ned was about five years old
he lost the love and guidance of his father, and
his grandmother was deprived of her only sup-
port. Ned's father was employed as a motor-
man by the Winnipeg Street Railway Com-
pany. He was steady and prosperous ; when
suddenly a " strike " was called, and then
there were riotous times in Winnipeg's streets.
Matters went from bad to worse, until at last
the Mayor called out the soldiers, and they
came with all the pride and pomp of war and
with a great Catling gun to overawe the rioters.
A hot time was in process on Main Street, three
cars had been smashed to atoms, the police
with drawn batons had charged the crowd,
when Ned's father, who had entered a car to
get his overcoat, left there the night before the
12
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
strike, was arrested as he was leaving the car.
No explanation was asked or taken. A
" striking motorman," he was caught in the
act; and accordingly he was sentenced to a
long term of imprisonment in Stony Mountain
Penitentiary. Then began the hard struggle
against poverty and disease, the hard struggle
in which thousands have already been worsted,
the battle against fearful odds which so many
are now fighting. With no one to support her
and little Ned the old woman was forced to
go out and scrub offices and to do a day's work
wherever it could be got, in order, as she said,
" to get a bit an' a sup an' a few rags to keep
the boy in dacency."
Selkirk Avenue was not then the congested
district that it is to-day. Then happy homes,
not many on the street, but each with a nice
large plot of ground and its own garden shaded
with maple trees, covered the district where
now stores and offices and tenement blocks are
trying to shut out the sunshine. Never did
a braver, more generous, kinder-hearted people
dwell together than those of North Winnipeg
In the good old days when each was known to
all and all to each. The hungry and the desti-
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
tute never pleaded then in vain. Like the
Green Isle from which they sprung, " their
doors opened wide to the poor and the
stranger"; like the land of their adoption,
Canada, the broad and free, their hands and
purses were ever open to the call of charity.
Among them these two friendless ones found
friends indeed. They lived in a little home
just east of where the Exhibition Buildings
now stand. A cleaner and neater one, though
poorly furnished, could not be found in all the
city. On the walls were a few pictures, and
the one Ned loved best was that of Archbishop
Machray, the great prelate who had done so
much for Western Canada in general and Win-
nipeg in particular. Often he would sit for
hours to hear Granny tell of the deeds of the
early pioneers in this great " Lone Land," and
especially, so far as she knew, those of the
great Saint whom Ned was proud to claim as
his hero.
Often on a summer's evening, when the
darkness was beginning to fall, and Granny
had rested a little after her day's work, she and
the child would walk down towards the church.
Not a handsome edifice, merely a frame shell
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
on a stone foundation. Not old and fragrant
with ancient memories, like the churches of
the " Dear Isle " so far away, where tired and
weary workers, after long and dreary toil, in
the evenings would step in and reverently
kneeling would lose sight of the world and its
weariness, in prayer and communion with God
a custom of the people which gave them the
strength and fortitude to bear a burden un-
known to the boys and girls of this Canada
of ours. No, not grand and old and magnifi-
cent, but still to these two sacred and hallowed
because it was God's House and theirs. They
knelt on the chancel step the old woman and
the little boy. There they knelt and prayed
ay, prayed for the mother and the daughter
now dead and gone; " for all who are any way
afflicted or distressed in mind, body, or estate" ;
and for one so dear to them suffering, after
the example of his Saviour, punishment for a
crime he did not commit.
Ah, would to God we had more like these;
would to God the evenings were hallowed with
more such visits to our city churches; would
to God that more hungry hearts were eager for
such quiet communion with their Heavenly
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
Father in His own House! What a beautiful
picture it made: The setting sun shining
through the western window falling on the
gray hair and wrinkled, upturned face of the
old woman, and on the sweet young head and
innocent countenance of the little child so close
to her side. Ah, often has the Rector, stand-
ing in the shadow, gazed with love and grati-
tude on this scene a scene of heaven upon the
earth, a picture artists love to paint, a sermon
without words, an evening incense, the strong,
prevailing prayer of Youth and Age.
16
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
CHAPTER III.
SEVEN bright summers have passed away
since little Irish Ned first saw the light of day.
In his own estimation he is now quite a man.
Granny must put him in long pants, and then
he will trot out to earn a living for himself.
Down to the newspaper office he goes with a
friend who tells his story. The " Circulation
Manager " is very sympathetic, and Ned gets
his first bundle of papers. Oh, how proud he
was. Not a prouder boy or man in all Winni-
peg. At six o'clock in the morning his little
feet would carry him across the overhead
bridge to Portage Avenue, and soon his voice
would be heard crying " Free Press! Morning
Free Press !" along Portage Avenue, up Main
Street and down Selkirk to his home. In tlie
afternoon the same shrill call would be heard
heralding the evening papers, " Press, 'Bune
and Telegram." Of them all he preferred the
Free Press, but necessity knows no law, and it
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
was, as he said, " to make his pile and get rich
quick," that he sold the " 'Bune and Tely."
On Sunday he was always at morning
service, sitting in the South Transept near the
Font. He loved the Sunday School, and right
joyously rang his sweet, childish treble in the
chants and hymns; but when it came to the
hymn, " Just as I am, I come," then his whole
soul seemed afire, and the thrilling, rapturous
music gushed from his little throat and
ascended Heavenwards as the angels' songs
must ascend to the summit of God's Throne.
" In the glad morning of my day,
My life to give, my vows to pay,
With no reserve and no delay,
With all my heart I come.
" Just as I am, young, strong and free,
To be the best that I can be,
For truth and righteousness and Thee,
Lord of my life, I come.
" And for Thy sake to win renown,
And then to take the victor's crown,
And at Thy feet to cast it down,
O Master, Lord, I come."
18
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
It was the sweet, enchanting strain of a pure
and innocent soul registering its determination
to be worthy of the God from Whom it sprung.
Day followed day, and week in week out, in
sunshine and in rain, Ned sold his papers and
won his way. All came to know and admire
and love little Irish Ned. His honest, bright,
little face and winsome, dimpled smile won
him hosts of friends; but he never forgot the
dearest friend of all, his good old Granny.
And still as long as evening twilight lingered,
the setting sun, peeping through the western
window in the green frame church, found the
two kneeling on the chancel step offering up
the prayer of Faith and Love.
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
CHAPTER IV.
THE summer days were ended. The bright
fall days were come. All nature had donned
her many coloured garments made beautiful
by the frost before she laid them away for the
winter rest. The world was beautiful, but
darkness and dismay reigned in the newspaper
offices, for Irish Ned was missing. " No one
to take his papers ?" " Where is he ?" " At
home, sick." "What?" "Typhoid fever."
Yes; the curse of Winnipeg in its earlier days,
the dread disease responsible for so much pov-
erty and suffering, had Ned in its grip, and held
him fast. He lay on his bed very, very ill,
and his grandmother tried to comfort and
soothe and bring him back to health her dar-
ling, her loved one, her only one but all in
vain. His course was run, his hour had
come, his brief day of trial was over. " Oh,
sir," he said to the Rector, " I know you '//
tell me the truth. The doctor won't tell me,
and Granny tries to, but she can't, you know,
20
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
sir; but you will, I know: Am I going to die,
sir?" The good man asked, " How do you
feel about it yourself, Ned, my son?" And
the lad bravely answered, " I think I am, sir."
Then the Rector said, " Ned, my own brave
boy, you will see Jesus before we do; are you
afraid to go to Him?" And the sick boy
answered, "No, sir; not now, sir." Quietly
and calmly he lay and listened as the Rector
told over and over again " the old, old story of
Jesus and His love " ; and after a simple child-
like prayer, in which the minister committed
the boy to " God's gracious mercy and protec-
tion," the little chap asked them to sing his
favourite hymn. With breaking hearts and
voices full of emotion they sang the wished-
for hymn, the dying boy joining in at the
verse
" In the glad morning of my day,
My life to give, my vows to pay,
With no reserve and no delay,
With all my heart I come."
Along Selkirk Avenue, through North Win-
nipeg to St. John's, down Main to Portage and
Broadway, across the river to Fort Rouge and
Norwood flew the news that Irish Ned was
21
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
dying. Many an eye was filled with tears,
many a breast heaved a throbbing sigh, many
a heart had an aching load: Irish Ned was
dying. Round at the Church and in Sunday
School on that clouded Sunday morning they
missed the bright, winsome face and dimpled
smile, and many a prayer was sent on the
wings of faith to the Throne of Grace for the
little boy and his lonely friend. Yes, the
Angel of Death was waiting to take " home "
little Irish Ned. Some of his chums went to
see him on Sunday night and sang at his
request, " Tell me the old, old Story." After-
wards the Rector went and stayed till the end.
A great calm settled down upon the boy. He
lay so quietly all night, while his grandmother
clasped one hand in hers and with her other
gently brushed back the fair hair from his
brow. At last, after a long silence, he said,
" Say * Just as I am ' for me." Again they
said it. Then the Rector read the Prayers for
the Dying. As the dawn was breaking, the
sun gilding spires and housetops, and the spar-
rows twittering their morning hymn of praise
on the eaves, with the words, " Lord of my life,
I come," upon his lips, little Irish Ned gave a
22
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
gentle sigh, and yielded up his spirit to the God
who gave it.
He was dead. The world without was
bathed in sunshine, but all was dark to her he
loved, now left alone. His little bird was
singing merrily in its cage, " but the strong
heart of its child master was mute and motion-
less forever." For the last time earth had felt
the springing tread, and listened to the merry
whistle of little Irish Ned.
They buried him in the cemetery at Brook-
side, far removed from the city's noise in which
he so loved to mingle, far from the haunts and
the turmoils and the troubles of men. As the
Rector with choking voice uttered the words,
" Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,"
many a heart heaved with sorrow, many an
eye filled with tears, many a breast throbbed
with sobbing; but as he went on to proclaim in
triumphant tones, " In sure and certain hope
of the Resurrection to Eternal Life through our
Lord Jesus Christ," an awed silence fell upon
that sorrow-stricken assembly and a new hope
was begotten in their hearts.
" Father, in Thy gracious keeping
Leave we now Thy servant sleeping."
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
CHAPTER V.
Is it well with the child? It is well."
' Safely, safely gathered in,
No more sorrow, no more sin,
No more childish griefs or fears,
No more sadness, no more tears;
For the life so young and fair
Now hath passed from earthly care ;
God Himself the soul will keep,
Giving His beloved sleep.
* Safely, safely gathered in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin,
Passed beyond all grief and pain,
Death, for thee, is truest gain ;
For our loss we must not weep,
Nor our loved one long to keep
From the house of rest and peace
Where all sin and sorrow cease.
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
" Safely, safely gathered in,
No more sorrow, no more sin.
God has saved from weary strife,
In its dawn, this fresh young life,
Which awaits us now above,
Resting in the Saviour's love;
Jesu, grant that we may meet
There adoring at Thy feet."
Henrietta O. Dobree.
(Hymn 284, Boofe of Common Praise.)
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
CHAPTER VI.
MEN come and go. Nations rise and wane.
Suns rise and set. The seasons roll around.
The days and weeks and months succeed each
other in rapid succession, and Time, the great
Physician, heals our wounds. Once again 'tis
Christmas Eve, and in a certain city church
the Rector lingers for a while to see that all
is in readiness for the festal morning. Loving
hands have decorated the neat little church.
Beautiful it looks, with its evergreen holly and
ivy, and red berries, and white sparkling frost
crystals, and pure white carnations on the
altar. All is ready for to-morrow's services,
and with thankful heart the Rector kneels on
the chancel step to thank God for His best gift
to the world The Babe of Bethlehem and
to beseech that His people may appreciate that
Gift and come in large numbers to the Holy
Table. As he is about to leave the church an
old woman comes tottering up the aisle bearing
in one hand a silver " challenge " cup, and in
26
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
the other a bunch of white flowers. With
trembling voice she beseeches the minister to
take and place them upon the altar. " The cup
was Ned's, sir," she said, " he won it for
shootin' at the Boys' Brigade. I bought the
flowers myself, your riverence, for I know he
would love it to be filled with flowers on the
altar to-morrow ; and I want it placed there as
his gift to God this blessed Christmas Day."
Her request was granted. Ned's gift was
" placed there " and all who heard the story
were reminded of the saying, " He being dead,
yet speaketh." In his life he bravely " did his
duty in that state of life unto which it had
pleased God to call him " ; he gave himself up
to bring joy and sunshine wherever he went;
he gave his prayers, his service, his will to
God; for " with all my heart, I come," he
said.
And may we not feel this happy Christmas-
tide, when the world is glad and joyful, when
friends are true and the skies are blue and the
sun is shining, when in God's House we thank
Him for the Babe of Bethlehem and unite with
the whole Heavenly Host in singing " Glory to
God in the Highest, and on earth peace to men
IRISH NED, THE WINNIPEG NEWSY.
of good-will " ; may we not feel that with all
the voices in that mighty throng, one voice we
know will also be lovingly heard by our Father;
and that will be the voice of Irish Ned, the
Winnipeg Newsy.
28
HD Fea, Samuel
6247 Irish Ned
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