Smyrna times., 1890-02-19
LOST, A LITTLE CHILD.
How the City's Waits Are Cared for Unit
They Are CaIIad For

HOW the Citys Watfs Are CRred for Until
They Are Called For.
A great policeman, big enough and
strong enough to have felled a horse
with a 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 no
lice headquarters. The child was slum-
bering 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 businessIike wav
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
justing his eyeglasses, and dipping his
pen in his big inkstand, he queried:
"Boy or girl, officerT'
"Girl."
"How old?"
"'Bout years"
"Where did you get herr"
"Sixty-tifth 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 evarv
night, and each day sees the pages of the
big book, which Sergt. Kelieher keeps.
hll 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 evenings
they sit on the stone steps and wait II
the child has not already been found
and on stormy nights they go home, to
return again later on.
A woman comes running down the
street. She is one of the East Side moor
A shawl answers the purpose of cloak
and hat. She stops long enough to ask
of an idler on the corner:
"Where is the headquarters"
"Down where you see the green l;obtn
Is always the answer, and she is off
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 a
slate of the children who are brought in
during the night. Joe's voice is eruff
but it bellies his nature.
whats the matter2" he growls.
''Have ye found me baby?" and the
toll worn hands clutch nervously at the
frayed edges Of the old red shawl.
"Boy or grip
"a little girl with light hair"
go up stairs and look-top floor"
The stairs are steep and tiresome tn
climb, but mothers on such errands don't
tire easily, and up she goes. Five min
utes later step is heard on the stair
way. She is coming down again and
the red shawl is the background for a |
head of golden hair. Two dirty, chubby
hands are about her neck. The woman |
is smiling now. She is about to 90 out
to the street, but Old Joe again is in the |
way.
Go in there and give your name" |
and he points to Sergt. Kelleher, and |
chirrups at the baby.
The sergeant takes the woman's name |
and address, and, hugging the lost one
tightly, the woman passes out into the
street.-New York Evening Sun.