Los Angeles herald., 1892-04-05
A LITTLE BLUE CAP.g

l was paying visit to my friends, the
Durands. They were simple, honest
couple, who lived near the banks of the
river, in tiny house, a mere birds nest,
almost hidden by wistaria and Virginia
creeper. Durand's hands bore the marks
of honest toll, for he had been a lock-
smith in his youth, and had by industry
and economy raised himself steadily I'M
til he became the proprietor of large
business and secured competency for
his old age. His wife, a quiet, gentle
creature, worshiped her husband, and
both Of them wore on their faces an ex-
preston OF serenity which betokened
ease Of conscience and life of peace.
Durand was past sixty years of age and
his wife must have been fifty, yet in
spite Of their wrinkles and gray hairs
these two treated each other with an
affectionate Difference which was pleas
ure to behold. They were Philemon and
Baucis resuscitated.
While we were engaged in conversa-
ton Just before dinner Durand rose and
opened drawer to take out some trife
which he wished to show me. While
he was turning over the contents of the
drawer it chanced that little cap, such
as might have been worn by doll OF in
infant, fell to the floor. l picked it up
and noticed that it was made of coarse
blue linen, with two bits of twine in
stead of ribbons. AS handed it to him
said gayly:
care you preparing a baby basket,
Papa Durand"
had no sooner spoken than regret
ted it, for l recollected ut that moment
having heard that the only shadow on
my friends lives was the fact of their
union being childless one. For a mo-
ment Durand made no reply, but looked
at the little cap affectionately; then, as
he laid it carefully away again, he said
in tone of seriousness:
"That IS souvenir"
Then we all three sat down to dinner
and talked of other matters, but as soon
as the repast was finished and the little
maid of all work had put cigars and
liquors upon the table my friend said
suddenly:
"How much that baby, cap reminds
me Off 1t was evident that he wanted
to explain his remark, and begged him
to do so.
It was great many years ago, he
said after slight pause, for was
about twelve years old. l was working
in large factory, and had compan-
ion of the same age as myself whom on
account of his ugly features we nick
named Zizi Monkeyface.
He was a sly, thieving, mischievous
urchin, very much given to filching
tarts from the pastry cooks counter, but
jolly little chap and full of pluck. He
was so lazy that he would have been
turned out of the factory had it not
been for the indulgence of the overseer,
who had been friend of his father, and
who took an interest in the boy for the
sake of his dead comrade. Monkeyface
was an orphan, and the only relative he
had ever known was the woman who
brought him up, cousin of his moth
er. This woman was fish peddler, a
brawling, brutal creature, whose affec-
ton for her young charge was mani
tested only by blows. Perhaps if he
had known parents love he would
have been less perverse.
One afternoon the lad took it into his
head to run away from the factory and
go vagabonding about with gang of
young ruffians like himself. AS they
were coming slowly home after night
fall they heard, to their astonishment,
the cry of an infant. The sound seemed
to issue from long, narrow, dirty alley
which opened on the street, and at the
other end Of which hung dimly flick
ering lamp. After short consultation
the street boys ventured softly into the
passage and one of them espied behind
the door little bundle of rags which
struggled and walled. He seized hold
of it, and the whole party ran into the
street triumphant, stopping under a
lamp to examine their capture. It
proved to be a baby girl few weeks
old wrapped up in a series Of dirty
cloths-a poor little innocent whom a
wretched, perhaps desperate mother
had abandoned to the charity of stran-
gers.
A council was held to decide what
should be done with the booty, and the
young captors gave free play to their
mischievous imaginations. One said to
put the baby back where they found it;
another, to hide it in half empty prune
box which stood at grocer's door; a
third proposed to climb up to a second
story balcony and leave the youngster
there, and how astonished the people
would be next day! But Zizi Monkey
face secuted all these ideas and declared
that the baby must be given to the
gypsies. There was band of these peo-
pie near by, who practiced jugglery and
fortune telling, and instances of kidnap
ing were by no means rare.
Monkeyface's decision was hailed with
enthusiasm, and he claimed the right to
carry the treasure-trove in consideration
of his having made the plan.
''Give us the kid" he said. The baby
had all this time been screaming pite-
ously, but it stopped suddenly when
Monkeyface took hold of it, and while
he walked along with an air Of triumph
it fixed its great blue eyes upon his ugly
face and smiled, at the same time
stretching its tiny hands out as if to ca
ress him.
'She is laughing!' cried the boy in
delight; ''see how she looks at me-"
Then new impulse seized him.
"I will not give her away" he said;
81 will keep her myself"
His companions protested Indignantly.
ny11 in vain. for as they we'll Knew ZlZl