Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1889-12-06
LOST, A LITTLE CHILD.
How the City's Waits Are Cared for Until
They Are Called For.

Iney are Calieu
A great policeman, big enough and
strong enough to have felled horse
with single blow, carrying in his arms
a little golden haired girl, upon whose
sleeping face the tears had washed clean
places in the dust and CRIME walked
briskly down Houston street toward po-
lice headquarters. The child was slum-
boring as comfortably as though she had
been in the little crib at home, and the
officer was as tender as if the little one
was his own and helped make sunshine
in his home on his days off duty. Half
a dozen children of the street, quick to
catch sight of the pair, followed closely on
the big policeman's heels until he went
up the steps of the marble building in
Mulberry street, and was lost to view be-
hind the swinging doors.
Bluff Sergt. Kelleher was on duty, and
when he saw the little bundle of human
ity brought in, he sat down at his desk
and began to turn, in a businesslike way,
the leaves of an enormous book which
lay in front of him He kept turning
until he came to the page where he had
written last Then, after carefully adj
iusting his eyeglasses, and dipping his
pen in his big inkstand, he queried:
boy or girl, officer
Girl"
How old?"
"'Bout years"
"Where did you get herr"
"Sixty fifth street and Third avenue
Take her upstairs
upstairs meant to the top floor of
the big building, where Matron Webb
presides and acts the part of foster
mother to the waits and strays and
foundlings of this big city who are pick
ed up by the police.
The same scenes are enacted every
night. and each day sees the pages of the
big book. which Sergt. Keleher keeps,
fill up one by one with the brief stories
and records of lost children.
Every night in the year fathers and
mothers visit police headquarters and
ask for the children who have been lost
during the day. On pleasant evening.
they sit on the stone steps and wait il
the child has not already been found
and on stormy nights they go home, tc
return again later on.
a woman comes running down the
street. She is one of the East Side poor
shawl answers the purpose of cloal
and hat She stops long enough to ash
of an idler on the corner:
where is the headquarters"
Down where you see the green light
is always the answer, and she is of
again. Up the steps she runs eagerly
As she passes the swinging doors she al
most runs down Old Joe, the doorman
who keeps little private record on ;
slate of the children who are brought il
during the night. Joe's voice is grutf
but it bellies his nature.
what the natter" he growls.
"Have We found me baby?" and tn
toll worn hands clutch nervously at tn
frayed edges of the old red shawl.
boy or girl!'
"a little girl with light hair"
$50 up stairs and lcok-top floor"
The stairs are steep and tiresome t
climb, but mothers on such errands don
tire easily, and up she goes. Five min
utes later a step is heard on the stall
way. she Is coming down again an
the red shawl is the background for
head of golden hair. Two dirty, chubb
hands are about her neck. The woma
is smiling now. She is about to so on
to the street, but Old Joe again is in tn
way.
/ go in there and give your name,
and he points to Sergt. Kelleher, an
: chirrups at the baby.
| The sergeant takes the woman's nam
r and address, and, hugging the lost on
r tightly, the woman passes out into I'll
l street.-New York Evening Sun.