The Virginia enterprise. [volume] (Virginia, St. Louis County, Minn.) 1893-19??, 1894-12-07
FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS
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Prada .TnhnaOM

Never Il thought Of selfish fear -.
Comes to the fragile fiower-like girl:
Though the black smoke rolls and the hot
flames swirl
She staggers alone with her brother dear
Calm is the heart that love makes brave:
Swift and beautiful Its feet
That run on pyramids love makes sweet;
Strong are the arms that are strained tn
save.
At last: What JOY her heart must know!
AT last she Stumbles iutO the pool,
Safe from the fire in the waters cool,
She and her darling brother Joe. ~
All, little girl, with heart so true,
speeding away from the fires fierce wave,
with never thought but to shield and
Heaven be praised for such as you!
Thank God: Where passions flame and fare,
Where clamOrOus self browns out the
prayer,
Where men grow devilish with despair,
The flowers Of love are blooming there.
Eva Donaldson In Chicago Inter Ocean.
FilippO and stDa Monk"
Do you know Crosby street? Are YOU
familiar with it's cracked pavements, it's
rickety, overcrowded tenements, it's etern-
al din. it's terrible Crime, it's too evident
1t IL safe to say that not many of my
youthful readers are familiar with this pe-
culiar but interesting thoruughfare
Crosby street, let it be understood, is
the dwelling place of Italians; it is their
Wn peculiar quarter of the town, and here
they live, sleep and die. The mean,
dark avenue is the home not of the better
class of 1talians-the thrifty laborers,
hardworking fruit vendors and the like
but the abode of those dark eyed, hand
some. yagabon1 sons and daughters of
sunny Italy. who have come to our city
in such numbers and unclean-
~. Crosby street swarms with them. A
gOOdly number of them are ragpickers.
here and there is found an organ-grinder,
but the majority are oilers, living no one
can define just how, and content midst
all the dirt and domestic broils of Crosby
street. A queer lot for hero to exist
one little fellow that had his home just
here. and who for valor and self-sacrifice,
might serve as a model for older and wis
er ones. He was only Z years old, his
name was Jocko, and he was a monkey.
It is true that Jocko was nothing but
a little brown monkey. He was the prop.
erty of Filippo, Il sad-faced, quiet Italian,
who may have had another name, but no
one had ever heard it and so to everyone
Filippo had another possession; it was
i small, old-fashioned hand-organ that
had grown grey with age and continued
grinding. At one time, in its palmy
young days, when the veneer on its case
was bright and unscratched, there had
been a rosy-cheeked, short-skirted milk.
maid and her golden-haired shepherd lover
gan's foot, and danced merrily to "The
Wearing of the Green" but now the
springs were all broken and the little
wooden puppets ornamented the mantel-
shelf in Filippo's attic. The organ was
growing very old. Only three out of the
original six tunes could be induced to
come forth from that little instrument,
and they gave signs of fast approac ching
death.
Filippo began to grow troubled. He
WAS getting very poor and the cold wealth.
er was coming on. The public is hard t,
please in matters musical. Even an organ
grinder must keep up with the popular
taste. There was time when F>ilippC
had taken for his daily route the fashion
able thoroughfares and broad avenues up
town, where dwell the rich of the metrop
oils. Fair faces had smiled at him from
behind wide easements lads
and their curly headed little sisters
money, in nickels and dimes, had rained
into his hat. Beautiful, richly-dressed
ladies had paused to listen to his music
and leave silver in his hand. And even
the policeman near the big clubhouse en-
trance had sometimes tossed him a penny
Those were the good old days!
Filippo was very happy then. He lived
in his little attic in Crosby street entirely
aloof from his neighbors; and sJocko was
his sole companion. Jocko was baby
then, and the apple Of Filippo's eye
Choice bits Of sweetmeats were always
brought home to ida monk" as Filippo's
broken English termed the little creature
and Jocko in return adored his master
He had been taught many cunning little
tricks, and sometimes, when the weather
was warm and bright, the organ-grinde1
would take his little pet Gown on the
street among the children of the tenement
and anluse them by putting the little mon
key through all his clever antics. Then
they would clap their tiny hands and
scream for joy, and Filippo would be
pleased, for he was as proud of "la
monk" as mother is of a bright, healthy
babe.
''Ah. Filoppo! da monk maka you biga
mon!'' an old ragpicker once exclaimed
after witnessing Jocko's street perform
ance FiIippo's face instantly darkencd.
"Da monk nevva worka, poor bam-
hino! l maka da mon, me, Filippo!'
replied the orgalfgrinder, and taking
the monkey tenlerly in his arms he dis
appeared in the doorway.
Those were happy days for Filippo. He
ways 30 cents day, and life in a Crosby
street attic seemed very sweet to him.
But that was almost six years ago
tho organ was then in its prime, and
boasted six popular tunes. But, alas,
for organ-grinders! the same airs will
not always remain fayorites with the
public, and Filippo began to realize that
the music of his little instrument was
no longer appreciated uptown. The chill
dren of Fifth avenue no longer smiled
greeting. Instead, they very, nearly
face when he held toward them his hat
for the usual piece of money.
'Why do you not give us tune in
fashion," asked a proud-looking boy OF
10 years one day. Baby Nine is out
of date, and so is The Sweet By-and
By can't you play Sweet Marie or the
Washington Post March,? Those old
pieces make us tired" and burst OF
laughter from the youthful crowd fol-
lowed.
It was not exactly ridicule. These chill.
tlren we're well-born and gently trained
but to them there was something humor-
Gus in giving pennies to hear the hoarse
screenings Of Baby Mine" aad 1.-The
Sweet By-and-By," and the boys re-
mark to Filippo brought forth the mirth
There is something often very cutting
in the laughter of children, coming, as ii
generally does, from the lips and not the
heart, and innocent of wrong intent
something that stings to the quick. Flip
pc felt no pain now, although he
could not exactly explain the cause to
himself He had not quite understood
this boys remarks, but he gathered to his
heart the scorn in his voice, and the
laughter that followed sent the blood to
the old organ-grinder's face. He real
lied, too, that his pet air, the pride of
his organ, "Baby Mine," had been called
'out of date" and the truth of it came
home to him with singular force, slowly
but convincingly.
Filippo shouldered his organ silently
and moved away. He felt discouraged,
and for the first time in his life he felt
a little bit ashamed of his organ.
lie stopped a block away and looked
with critical eyes at his old friend that
had brought him so much prosperity in
days gone by. Yes. it was dilapidated,
truly. The space in front, left by. the
going of the dancing figures looked bare
and soiled. The red curtain at the back
&vos little hotfnr than n r0r and h,Sl2ps