September 5, 1899
Dear Journal,
I know I haven't written in you since I left. As you know, I went back home with my family. The very first thing I did was take a nice warm bath. I must admit, it felt good to get out all that dirt and filth from the streets. I guess I should up date you as to what has been going on lately.
I told you how I had left the newsies, the girls at Medda's, Torn and mostly, David. I didn't forget about them like I'm sure they thought. I watched the paper every day looking to see what news was coming out about the strike. There was a small period where there was nothing printed about. My father said it was a smart move on part of Pulitzer, Hearst and the others, because with printing stories of the strike it was adding help to the newsies cause. I just think they were cowards.
My mother took me shopping one morning for a new dress, since my old one was badly torn and worn from the streets. Poor mama, she's still so protective now. She won't let me leave her sight, and I swear if she could she would hold my hand. But as we were walking along the street heading into a store, a bunch of white papers fluttered down from the building tops. My mom quickly pulled me into the store as a bunch of street kids ran towards the paper. Luckily mama didn't see me reach up and pluck one from the sky.
I read over it when I got back, having a deep feeling that it had something to do with the strike. I was right. The boys had printed out a small paper of their own because of the newspapers not printing anything. I smiled at the thought of David helping to print it, taking a great risk in being caught I'm sure. I placed the paper in a small box under my bed, where the rest of the articles were, along with one that had his picture in it. The next morning I woke up to my sister with a wide smile on her face. I had told her about my time on the streets, and I believe I may have turned her towards my side. She looked at me and I knew right away, the newsies had own their strike. It was the topic of discussion at all the parties, about how a bunch of street kids had suddenly pulled the power out from under them. Pulitzer was actually at this party. I made certain to stay far from him and his foul mood. My sister said he didn't stay long.
School started up last week, and I think my mother was proud to see me off to school. Save and sound away from the "vile streets". My father had told me that I was going to marry Luke as soon as I graduated. I finally told my dad that it wasn't going to happen. I found the strength to tell him that I couldn't marry someone I didn't love, and that I would find my own. I have Torn and the rest of the girls to thank for my strength and inspiration. He wasn't too happy about it, but he finally accepted it.
With school there was a lot of new faces, and a lot of old. My heart has been stolen once again, to a nice boy that's in my grade. It seems he had been on the streets selling newspapers for a while until he father, who had gotten hurt at work, was able to work again. He's actually supposed to be joining us for dinner any minute. Ah, there's father calling. He must be here. I shall write in you later with details of the night. My parent's don't know this yet-but he's taking me out to a small theater, I'm sure I've told you about it. It's called Irving Hall?
-Elizabeth Westfall
Elizabeth ran down the steps as her father greeted her with a huge hug. She smiled as she noticed the boy standing with his back towards her. He was dressed nicely in a pair of dark brown pants, blue shirt and matching dark brown vest.
" David," Elizabeth smiled as David turned around, his blue eyes sparkling. "I'd like you to meet my father." David reached out his hand to shake Mr. Westfall's hand.
" I don't want you to keep my daughter out too late you hear?" Mr. Westfall winked as David gave a warm smile.
" I won't sir," David replied as he held out his arm, Elizabeth taking it under hers as they headed out the door and down the street towards the familiar sights and sounds which Elizabeth had to admit, she missed.
Dear Journal,
I know I haven't written in you since I left. As you know, I went back home with my family. The very first thing I did was take a nice warm bath. I must admit, it felt good to get out all that dirt and filth from the streets. I guess I should up date you as to what has been going on lately.
I told you how I had left the newsies, the girls at Medda's, Torn and mostly, David. I didn't forget about them like I'm sure they thought. I watched the paper every day looking to see what news was coming out about the strike. There was a small period where there was nothing printed about. My father said it was a smart move on part of Pulitzer, Hearst and the others, because with printing stories of the strike it was adding help to the newsies cause. I just think they were cowards.
My mother took me shopping one morning for a new dress, since my old one was badly torn and worn from the streets. Poor mama, she's still so protective now. She won't let me leave her sight, and I swear if she could she would hold my hand. But as we were walking along the street heading into a store, a bunch of white papers fluttered down from the building tops. My mom quickly pulled me into the store as a bunch of street kids ran towards the paper. Luckily mama didn't see me reach up and pluck one from the sky.
I read over it when I got back, having a deep feeling that it had something to do with the strike. I was right. The boys had printed out a small paper of their own because of the newspapers not printing anything. I smiled at the thought of David helping to print it, taking a great risk in being caught I'm sure. I placed the paper in a small box under my bed, where the rest of the articles were, along with one that had his picture in it. The next morning I woke up to my sister with a wide smile on her face. I had told her about my time on the streets, and I believe I may have turned her towards my side. She looked at me and I knew right away, the newsies had own their strike. It was the topic of discussion at all the parties, about how a bunch of street kids had suddenly pulled the power out from under them. Pulitzer was actually at this party. I made certain to stay far from him and his foul mood. My sister said he didn't stay long.
School started up last week, and I think my mother was proud to see me off to school. Save and sound away from the "vile streets". My father had told me that I was going to marry Luke as soon as I graduated. I finally told my dad that it wasn't going to happen. I found the strength to tell him that I couldn't marry someone I didn't love, and that I would find my own. I have Torn and the rest of the girls to thank for my strength and inspiration. He wasn't too happy about it, but he finally accepted it.
With school there was a lot of new faces, and a lot of old. My heart has been stolen once again, to a nice boy that's in my grade. It seems he had been on the streets selling newspapers for a while until he father, who had gotten hurt at work, was able to work again. He's actually supposed to be joining us for dinner any minute. Ah, there's father calling. He must be here. I shall write in you later with details of the night. My parent's don't know this yet-but he's taking me out to a small theater, I'm sure I've told you about it. It's called Irving Hall?
-Elizabeth Westfall
Elizabeth ran down the steps as her father greeted her with a huge hug. She smiled as she noticed the boy standing with his back towards her. He was dressed nicely in a pair of dark brown pants, blue shirt and matching dark brown vest.
" David," Elizabeth smiled as David turned around, his blue eyes sparkling. "I'd like you to meet my father." David reached out his hand to shake Mr. Westfall's hand.
" I don't want you to keep my daughter out too late you hear?" Mr. Westfall winked as David gave a warm smile.
" I won't sir," David replied as he held out his arm, Elizabeth taking it under hers as they headed out the door and down the street towards the familiar sights and sounds which Elizabeth had to admit, she missed.
