You can scarcely walk a single block without your attention being drawn to one or more of the class called "street boys." We have already devoted a separate chapter to the musicians, and we must now endeavor to give the reader an idea of the rest of this class. THE NEWSBOYS. Every morning, by times, and every afternoon between one o'clock and dark, if you chance to be in the neighborhood of Printing House Square, you will see throngs of boys rushing frantically out of the cellars of the printing houses of the daily journals. They have barely passed the portals, when they set up their morning cry, in a shrill, sharp tone, "'Ere's your ''Erald,' 'Mornin' Times,' 'Buy a Tribune?'" etc. In the afternoon, they scream into your ears the names of the "News," "Mail," "Express," "Telegram," "Post," and other evening journals, flavoring their announcements with shouts such as these: "'Nuther murder!" "Tremendous sensation!" "Orful shootin' scrape!" "'Orrible haccident!" and so on. They climb up on the steps of the stage, thrust their grim little faces in the windows, and almost bring nervous passengers to their feet by their yells; or, scrambling into a street car, they will offer you their papers in such an earnest, appealing way, that, nine times out of ten, you will buy them out of sheer pity for the boys. The boys who sell the morning papers are very few in number. The newspaper stands seem to have the whole monopoly of this branch of the trade, and the efforts of the newsboys are confined to the afternoon journals--especially the cheap ones--some of which, however, are dear bargains at a penny. They swarm around the City Hall, and in the eastern section of the city, below Canal street; and in the former locality, half a dozen will sometimes surround a luckless pedestrian, thrusting their wares in his face, and literally forcing him to buy one to get rid of them. The moment he shows the least disposition to yield, they commence fighting amongst themselves for the "honor" of serving him. They are ragged and dirty. Some have no coats, no shoes, and no hat. Some are simply stupid, others are bright, intelligent little fellows, who would make good and useful men if they could have a chance. The majority of these boys live at home, but many of them are wanderers in the streets, selling papers at times, and begging at others. Some pay their earnings, which rarely amount to more than thirty cents per day, to their mothers--others spend them in tobacco, strong drink, and in visiting the low-class theatres and concert halls.