sore child of fortune has only his
heavy box of tunes and a human being's easement in the public highway.
Let us not shut him out of that poor right because once in a while he
wanders in front of our doors and offers wares that offend our finer
taste. It is easy enough to get him to betake himself elsewhere, and, if
it costs us a few cents, let us not ransack our law-books and our moral
philosophies to find out if we cannot indict him for constructive
blackmail, but consider the nickel or the dime a little tribute to the
uncounted weary souls who love his strains and welcome his coming.

For the editor of the _Evening_ ---- was wrong when he said that the
Board of Aldermen and the Mayor consented to the licensing of the
organ-grinder "in the face of a popular protest." There was a protest,
but it was not a popular protest, and it came face to face with a demand
that _was_ popular. And the Mayor and the Board of Aldermen did rightly,
and did as should be done in this American land of ours, when they
granted the demand of the majority of the people, and refused to heed
the protest of a minority. For the people who said YEA on this question
were as scores of thousands or hundreds of thousands to the thousands of
people who said NAY; and the vexation of the few hangs light in the
balance against even the poor scrap of joy which was spared to
innumerable barren lives.

And so permit me to renew my invitation to the old lady.

TIEMANN'S TO TUBBY HOOK

If you ever were a decent, healthy boy, or if you can make believe that
you once were such a boy, you must remember that you were once in love
with a girl a great deal older than yourself. I am not speaking of the
big school-girl with whom you thought you were in love, for one little
while--just because she wouldn't look at you, and treated you like a
little boy. _She_ had, after all, but a tuppenny temporary superiority
to you; and, after all, in the bottom of your irritated little soul, you
knew it. You knew that, proud beauty that she was, she might have to
lower her colors to her little sister before that young minx got into
the first class and--comparatively--long dresses.

No, I am talking of the girl you loved who was not only really grown up
and too old for you, but grown up almost into old-maidhood, and too old
perhaps for anyone. She was not, of course, quite an old maid, but she
was so nearly an old maid as to be out of all active competition with
her jun