remaining bits and fragments of love in his old heart, faded and
withered though they were, and he gave them all to his old organ, which
had well-nigh seen as many summers as he had. It was getting very
antiquated and old-fashioned now; the red silk in front of it was very
soiled and worn, and it could not play any of the new tunes of which the
children were so fond. It sometimes struck old Treffy that he and his
organ were very much alike,--they were getting altogether behind the
age; and people looked down upon them and pushed past them, as they
hurried along the street. And though old Treffy was very patient, yet he
could not help feeling this.

He had felt it very much on the day of which I am writing. It was cold,
dismal weather; a cutting east wind had swept round the corners of the
streets, and had chilled the old man through and through. His threadbare
coat could not keep it out; how could he expect it to do so, when he had
worn it so many years he could scarcely count them? His thin, trembling
old hands were so benumbed with cold that he could scarcely feel the
handle of the organ, and, as he turned it, he made sundry little shakes
and quavers in the tune, which were certainly not intended by the maker
of the old barrel-organ.

There was not much variety in the tunes old Treffy could play. There was
the "Old Hundredth," and "Poor Mary Ann," and "Rule Britannia;" the only
other one was "Home, sweet Home," but that was old Treffy's favorite. He
always played it very slowly, to make it last longer, and on this cold
day the shakes and the quavers in it sounded most pathetic.

But no one took much notice of old Treffy or his organ. A little crowd
of children gathered round him, and asked him for all sorts of new tunes
of which he had never even heard the names.

They did not seem to care for "Home, sweet Home," or the "Old
Hundredth," and soon moved away. Then an old gentleman put his head out
of a window, and in a cross voice told him to go on and not disturb a
quiet neighborhood with his noise. Old Treffy meekly obeyed, and,
battling with the rough east wind, he tried another and a more bustling
street; but here a policeman warned him to depart, lest he should crowd
up the way.

Poor old Treffy was almost fainting, but he must not give up, for he had
not a half-penny in his pocket, and he had come out without breakfast.
At length a kind-hearted farmer's wife, who was passing with a basket on
her arm, took p