that old man here?" cried Flora.

"He came of himself, I suppose," replied Mrs. Lee,
laughing.

"I think it is too bad to laugh at an old man like him,"
added Flora.

"It would be, if he were in distress; but don't you see he
is as merry as any of the children?"

"Play us some tunes," said the children.

"I will, my little dears;" and the old man raised the
fiddle. "Let's see--I will play 'Napoleon's Grand March.'"

The fiddler played, but he behaved so queerly that the
children laughed so loud they could hardly hear the music.

"Why, that's 'Yankee Doodle,'" said Henry Vernon; and they
all shouted at the idea of calling that tune "Napoleon's
Grand March."

"Now I will play you the solo to the opera of 'La
Sonnambula,'" said the old man.

"Whew!" said Henry.

The old man fiddled again, with the same funny movements as
before.

"Why, that's 'Yankee Doodle' too!" exclaimed Henry.

"I guess he don't know any other tune."

"You like that tune so well, I will play you 'Washington's
March;'" and the funny old fiddler, with a great flourish,
began to play again; but still it was "Yankee Doodle."

And so he went on saying he would play many different tunes,
but he played nothing but "Yankee Doodle."

"Can't you tell us a story now?" asked Charley Green.

"O, yes, my little man, I can tell you a story. What shall
it be?"

"Are you a soldier or a sailor?"

"Neither, my boy."

"The story! the story!" shouted the boys, very much
excited.

"Some years ago I was in New York," the old man commenced.

"Did you see me there?" demanded Tommy Woggs.

"Well, my little man, I don't remember that I saw you."

"O, I was there;" and Tommy thrust his hands down to the
bottom of his pockets, and strutted up the space between
the children and the comical old fiddler.

"I did see a very nice-looking little gentleman----"

"That was me," pompously added Tommy.

"He was stalking up Broadway. He thought every body was
looking at and admiring him; but such was not the case. He
looked just like--just like----"

"Like me?" asked Tommy.

"Like a sick monkey," replied the fiddler.

"Go on with your story."

"I will, children. Several years ago I was in New York. It
is a great city; if you don't believe it, ask Master Tommy
Woggs."

"You tell the truth, Mr. Fiddler. It is a great city, and I
have been all over it, and can speak from observation,"
replied Master Woggs.

"The story!" shouted the children.

"