The St. Johns herald., 1894-01-11
LOST IN STREET CARS.
a Queer Collection of Ar.:cIes
 Forgotten by Passengers.
The Ofice of a Chicago Company That Has Regular Museum of CuriOsities Everything from Night Gown
 to an Ear Trumpet.

Everything from Night Gown
 to an Ear Trumpet.
 ''You've left your umbrella, lady!' and the conductor waved frantically in the air a parasol adorned with multifarious tassels. The lady ad- dressed, who had just got off the car, turned, seized the para5ol and without a word of thanks disappeared in the throng which crowds Madison street at the fashionab ble shopping hour.
 ''Women are curious creatures" re- marked the conductor to an observant passenger. They're so forgetful, al- ways leaving things in the cars, and when we happen to notice them before they get out of sight they never thank us. And, by the way, there's an awful lot of stuff left in the ears. I've found nearly everything. Last trip picked up lady's purse"
 'What- becomes of all the articles that are left?" asked the observant passenger, whose curiosity had been aroused.
 ''Why, they are all turned in at the office. If you have time trip there would be interesting"
 The office of the West division street railroad is located at the corner of Washington and Jefferson streets. and thither the observant passenger wend- ed her way, says the Chicago Times.
 The young lady in charge of the lost and found department readily permit ted herself to be interviewed. The office is commodious one, surrounded by rows of pigeon holes, in which neatly labeled and tici-eted is to be seen nearly every conceivable article that is capable of being ''lost and found"
 ''You see,'' said the custodian, tour stock is rather low at present, be- cause articles unclaimed after thirty days are returned to the conductor finding them. Quantities of fruit and flowers are found, but they are inn mediately returned to the finder, as is the rule with all perishable goods This morning Q package of canned goods came in. Perhaps you would like to examine my list"
 Here the young lady extended her ICCOIu OOOh lOI 1lSltCCb4OAL. AAaCAC NClC umbrellas by the score, with straight sticks and crooked sticks, and some with no sticks at all. There were gloves from the genteel suede to the one of plain brown cotton. There were rings from the noble diamond to the one of paste.
 An Episcopalian prayer-boolz had been left at the close of Lent, which awalIens the query: Has it's owner ceased to pray?" Next on the list was a nursing bottle It's poor little owner of course went hungry until another could be procured at neigh boring store; the baby meanwhile threatening, as best it could, to change its boarding place if it must be so cruelty treated.
 A lantern, an old-fashioned one was there. Some Diogenes' search had been brought to a sudden close; or had he found it useless?
 Two items-things of much use similar, yet not alike, were scrawled across the page; one check for fifty dollars, and the other a pair of checked "pants,'' each infinitely use- ful while it lasts, but one represent ing more than the other, being able to clothe the whole body and the ''in- ner man" with food as well.
 Here the observant passenger learned that carpen ters lose saws, washerwom- en lose soiled clothes and soap, barbers lose cases of their dangerous imple- ments, ''men of all work" lose old hatch cts, farmers lose carpet-bags, deaf per sons lose their ear trumpets. wOrl1men lose dinner pails, lovers forget candy boxes and opera glasses, and ladies' well, ladies sometimes lose their night gowns.
 Even bottle of consumption cure had been left with no one to cure. A laundering youth had mislaid his tick cts for a theater-more perishable goods.
 But there were three small wax rab- bits. Who lost them? Crinoline? Yes; one package. It's loss to the owner will never be known, but one thing is assured: one conductors wife, at least will lead the fashion next Sunday in a fin de siecle skirt.
 At last. but not least, was found a rosary. Its sight recalled Sister Dolo- rosa" with wealth of sweet flowers that grew in the Kentucky convent garden. What new penance would this pure creature have to perform for losing the string of brown beads. over which her hands had passed for years? None, hoped the observant passenger, as she left the office just in time to see a fat woman Hose Ter grip" on a trail ear and indent the wet block pavement with her plenteous personality.