Connecticut western news., 1892-08-04
A LITTLE BLUE CAPT.

was paying visit to my friends, the Durands. They were a simple, honest couple, who lived near the banks of the river, in tiny house, 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 un- til he became the proprietor of a large business and secured a competency for his old age. His wife, a quiet, gentle creature, worshiped her husband, and both of them wore on their faces an ex- precision 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 deference which was pleas ure to behold. They were Philemon and Baucis resuscitated.
 While we were engaged in conversa- tion just before dinner Durand rose and opened drawer to take out some trihe
 
 he was turning over the contents of the drawer it chanced that little cap, such as might have been worn by doll or an infant, fell to the floor. I picked it up and noticed that it was made of coarse blue linen, with two bits of twine in- stead of ribbons. As I handed it to him said gayly:
 "Are you preparing a baby basket, Papa Durand"
 had no sooner spoken than I regret ted it, for I recollected at that moment having heard that the only shadow on my friends lives was the fact of their union being childless one. For 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" It 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 I was about twelve years old. 1 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 a 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, a cousin of his moth CT. This woman was fish peddler, a brawling, brutal creature, whose affec- ton for her young charge was mani fested only by blows. Perhaps if he had known a 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 a 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 a long, narrow, dirty alley which opened on the street, and at the | nfha of oh hy,n 1xra aioI~ ering lamp. After short consultation the street boys ventured softly into the passage and one of them espied behind the door a 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 baby girl few weeks old wrapped up in 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 a grocer's door; 8 third proposed to climb up to second story balcony and leave the youngstel 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 a 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 tc 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 whe1 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 it's tiny hands out as if to ca ress him.
 'She is laughing" cried the boy il delight; "see how she looks at me-"
 Then a new impulse seized him.
 ''I will not give her away" he said sI will keep her myself"
 His companions protested indignantly but in vain, for as they we'll knew Ziz Monkeyface had at the end of each arm an argument so strong that it would bt useless as we'll as unsafe to oppose hi. wishes.
 When he reached home with his bur den the fish peddler exclaimed furiously
 "Do you think have not enough to dt to fill your mouth, you lazy imp? Tak' that brat to the police-quick, now!' Pif, pafi A box on each ear showed tn,