The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1907-12-21
a THEATRICAL SANTA CLAUS.
BY JEFFERSON DE ANGELS.

THEATHICAL SANTA CLAU6.
BY JEFFERSON DE ANGELS.
The week before Christmas in New
York, 'once upon time, not so very
long ago." showed Broadway full OF
eager shoppers. making tracks
through a heavy fall of snow which
the street sweepers had not yet clear
ed away. Up and down the magic
street and its companion arteries in
the retail district jostling crowd,
pushing, fighting Its way, sought to
catch glimpses of the many treasures
tempting1y displayed in the shop win
dows. Great extremes of life bump
ed elbows. The girl from the east
side, coming down from the slums to
view the good things-things forbid
den to her pocketbook-brushed her
threadbare skirts against the fur.
lined gown Of the daughter of the
rich. The almond eyed Celestial from
the Chinese district mingled the opium
scent of his blouse with the delicate
violet of the well dressed crowd.
Children from Fifth avenue in their
smart clothes edged away from squal-
idly dressed urchins with unwashed
faces and uncombed hair.
There was happy contentment re-
hected on the faces of thousands, in
contrast to the pinched, hungry, hope
less, feverish eyed faces of the other
thousands so strangely mingled on the
worlds greatest thoroughfare.
At the Rialto theater great prepara-
tions were in progress for the produc-
ton of a new comic opera. ReheaTs-
ais had been going on from morning
until midnight, day in and day out.
The back of the big stage was veri-
table chaos. Unfinished scenery and
mysterious looking props" were be-
ing skillfully fashioned into counter
felt presentations of camels, for there
was to be a grand march Of the kings
caravan across the desert. There
was an elephant, too, as big as life,
and ostriches and weired objects, all
piled in confusion with arti6cials
plants and floral devices, glittering
armor and all the thousands of odd
things that were being prepared for
the most dazzling comic opera of the
year, "The Minstrel Of the Sahara.
The scenic artists had been work.
ing day and night for weeks, and,
with the Opening" now only few
days off, the managers were nervously
dreading that the beautiful effects
would not be finished in time. To
add to this fear, Henry Granger, the
artist on whom the projectors of the
great spectacle had mainly depended,
had succombed to the strain of work
ing for days and nights without sleep
and scarcely stopping for anything
to eat. He lay at his little east side
home, tossing and raving in the delir-
ium of typhoid fever. He had been
absent from the painters bridge"
for nearly fortnight, and, although
his loss was considered serious at first,
some one else had filled his place, and
now he was forgotten. Scenic artists,
like actors, are improvident creatures,
and if any of the warm hearted stage
folk had had time to think of aught
except the duties that weighed so
heavily on each and every one they
might have thought that the sick man,
out of work and helplessly i'll, might
be suffering for want of money.
Granger was favorite generally, and
many time had he gone down into
his scant savings to help swell con-
tribution to some needy professional
in distress. If anything ever remind
ed the company of Granger's absence
it might have been that his little girl,
an only one of seven, came no more
with the artists meals as she used to
when he painted away pthere on the
"bridge." She was a sweetly coy
little thing, her great blue eyes set in
thoughtful and pale face, surround
ed by golden curls.
| And now it was Christmas eve, at
d O. clock in the afternoon. Old Pete,
the stage door tender, was startled
from his reveries back in the shadow
of his cage by the sweet voice Of a
child. She had "a note from mamma
to Mr.. Hardcraft. the manager. "
No, the manager was not around
Just then, but she could wait. He
might be back any moment. Ten
derly the rough old fellow led the
bonny one to a proscenium box and
lifting her into a big upholstered
chair, which she far from filed, bade
her wait. A busy rehearsal was in
progress, which the child watched
with no special curiosity, for the
sight was familiar one to her, until
after a succession of mods she fell
asleep.
Every one on the stage was too busy
TO notice the mite as she rested there,
one foot curled under, her pretty face
snugly pressed into the corner of the
softly padded chair. Her red tam
had Slipped off and her hair was loose
| ly massed in ringlets about her face