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The children ran to the window to listen, hanging recklessly out over the sill. "It's a grind-organ man!" cried Elsie, "and he's got a monkey." "I wonder how Dago would act if he were to see one of his own family," said Phil. "Come on, let's take him down and see."

We'll take the music-box out of the hall, and put it in my little red wheelbarrow, and you and me and Dago will start off through the streets like the grind-organ man did yesterday, I planned it all last night while everybody in the house was sound asleep. We'll sing when the music-box plays songs, and you and Dago can dance when it plays waltzes.

It always seemed an age to recess. And the school day was as long as a month is now. We were ready to laugh at anything ... a grind-organ in the street, a passing huckster crying "potatoes," etc. I have few distinct memories of my school days. I never went to kindergarten. I entered common school at the age of eight.

It sounded like a grind-organ on a city street.... The Sunshine of Paradise Alley. And the captain's voice was booming along with the melody. I peeked into Schantze's cabin to announce breakfast. He had a huge music box there. And he was singing to its playing, and dancing clumsily about like a happy young mammoth. "Spying on the 'old man, eh?"

A momentary quiet ... and from somewhere in a nearby street I hear again the grind-organ. It is playing "Alexander's Ragtime Band." Macauley's New Zealander, so I hear, will view the ruins of St. Paul's from London Bridge; but as for me, I prefer that more westerly arch which celebrates Waterloo, there to sniff and immerse myself in the town.

Many of us cannot listen to Manrico's death-song from the tower without hearing the grind-organ upon which its passion has grown so pathetically poor. But one could understand that music. The mere statement that it was comprehensible raises a smile to-day. It appealed to simple feelings.

Claudius stood staring at the little caravan, halted at the corner of the most aristocratic street in New York, and his attention was gradually roused to comprehend what he saw. He reflected that next to being bound on the back of a wild horse, like Mazeppa, the most horrible fate conceivable must be that of this dirty baby, put to bed in perpetuity on the back of a crazy grind-organ.

The last crack of a triphammer, peckering at a giant pile of iron down the block, dies out on the dead air. A taxicab, rrrrr-ing in the street below, grunts its horn. A newsboy, in neuralgic yowl, bawls out a sporting extra. Another "L" train and the panes rattle again. A momentary quiet ... and from somewhere in a nearby street I hear a grind-organ. What is the tune it is playing?

They came in usefully when he was lecturing on Missions! His bedroom he did not want us to see. It struck cold and appeared to be reeking with damp! The weather had been rather dull when we arrived, but suddenly there was a glint of sunshine, and a grind-organ that had wandered up the street started playing just opposite. Two couple of children began to dance.

"Bone Stillman says Longfellow's the grind-organ of poetry. Like this: 'Life is re-al, life is ear-nest, tum te diddle dydle dum!" "Carl," ordered Mrs. Cowles, "you will please to never mention that Stillman person in my house!" "Oh, Carl!" rebuked Gertie. She rose from the piano-stool.