The herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1893-1900, 1895-12-22
THE WAITS BEDT[rlE

aristocratic portion Of the city to the
Bowery. Enter big building and
these words greet one:
"Now, Great Jones, you must go to
bed"
Don't want to go to bed. Want to
wait up an see Sanity Claus"
"Santa Claus won't come to bad little
boys and girls who don't say their
prayers and go to bed"
Great Jones was at first inclined to
weep, but he thought better of il, and
allowed himself to be led a captive to
the big chlldren's nursery. He was
/ tiny waif lodged under the sheltering
wing of the Five Points House of In
dustry, and his odd pet name Of "Great
Jones" had been given to him by the
poor family with whom he had lodged
before his removal to that kindly char
ity. His foster-father, a laboring man,
had picked the child up in Great Jones
street, near where that rather grimy
thoroughfare enters the Bowery. No
inquiries could elicit the little wander
er's name, 80 he had been temporarily
called Great Jones, after the street of
his finding.
Now, Great Jones was distinctly red
haired, and as obstinate as he was red
haired. Somebody had told him that
Santa Claus-gracious giver of good
things-was coming during the still
watches of the night to the Five Points
House of Industry and its nursery, just
as he came to the young people with
wealthy parents in the grand homes
uptown.
| "Toodles," who was a cripple, and
had already spent Christmas in the
nursery, had described the gorgeous
array of presents which the good saint
left by the children's bedsides the year
before. Great Jones at first proved in
credulous; but, one day finding the
matron disengaged, he questioned her
on this important question.
ayes, Great JONES'" answered the
matron, "Sants Claus is sent here every
Christmas eve by the kind ladies and
gentlemen with presents for the babes
of the nursery. All sorts of nice things
he brings, too-candy and toys and
| pOpguns--"
"And drums?" eagerly asked Great
Jones. "Does he bring drums?"
When the matron admitted that
Santa Claus had been known to bring
drum, Great Jones smiled happily.
The chief ambition of his small soul
was to own drum-a real drum, such
as he had seen in the Peter P. Mulcahy
association parade one night last sum-
mer He was determined at all hazards
to capture the drum which Santa Claus
brought.
But how? Suppose the saint took it
into his head to give the drum to some
other of the nursery children-to "Too-
J dies" for instance, or to Betsy Ann?
Betsy Ann was such remarkably
| good little girl that Santa Claus might
we'll feel like giving her what seemed
to Great Jones to be the choicest prize
of all. His heart was troubled over the
prospect He moped in corners think
! ing over the plans to win the drum and
ashamed to confide his SORROWS to the
, matron or any one else.
Most charitable folk know about the
Five Point House of Industry and its
nursery. In the very heart of what was
once the wickedest spot in all New
York City stands the plain brick struc-
| ture which shield from the cruel streets
so many small men and women. Some
Of them are orphans, some are the
children of parents go poor as to be
themselves objects Of charity. Some
like Great Jones-are waits and strays
on the great tide of metropolitan life.
But are all happy as care and comfort
| can make them.
Just now, however, Great Jones, our
red-headed founding, was anything
but happy. The longed-for drum and
the sickening fear of losing it oppress-
ed him. He had formed desperate
plot to hide in the hallway, outside the
children's dormitory, and waylay Santa
Claus when he arrived on Christmas
Eve with his wonderful budget of good
things.
You must pardon Great Jones for his
| eovetousaess. You see, he had not
been long in the house of industry, and
the genial teachings of tho ladies in
charge of the charity had not yet
eradicated the bitter lesson of the side
walk.
That drum-that amazing drum
| which he had seen and heard out of the