A DAY WITH A STREET ORGAN.

Waikato Argus, Volume IV, Issue 235, 15 January 1898, Page 2 (Supplement)

A DAY WITH A STREET ORGAN.

To tin's clay I don't know what was wrong with him. l'erhnps ho had been eating too heartily of the garlic he loved so well, possibly his last meal had been "seasoned " by a rival lover of the dark-skin-ned girl. Certain it is, h >wevcr, that he mddenly dropped on tho ground, " squirmed " for a whilo in terrible agony and then suddenly became pale, motionless and apparently lifeless. I assisted a policeman—who, for a wonder, was promptly on tho teene —to lift tho poor fe'.low into a cab to convey him to the nearest hospital. At the door I met tho dark-skinned girl keeping guard over the organ and stoically waiting for news of her partner. This I Flattened to impart. I found that she was n genuine daughter of Italy—not tho English imitation article—and, being able to speak her native language, I hastened to reassure her, asserting, somewhat rashly perhaps, that her ,4 sposo" would be all right in tho course of a day or two, satisfied on that point, sbo confided to me another trouble. The padrone would be furious if a day's business were sacrificed, she could not work her "round" a pretty long one, single handed. What was she to Jo?

Now, all this happened in my Bohemian days, wben my ordinary dress was far from orthodox. I was wearing at the time a very shabby velvet coat and a soft felt hit, while the rest of my .attire was the very reverse of fashionable*. So that when I ptoposed, half in jest, that sho should accept my services as a partner in the day's work the girl did not seem surprised. I was by no means sorry when wo halted at the first " pitch " on our allotted round which happened to be outside a large corner pub. I was hot and thirsty, and was going to get outside a pint of ale at onee, but my companion objected. It was " very bad luck " to spend anything before wo had taken any money; so out of consideration for her superstitious prejudices I postponed my drink, and waited while she took first turn at tho handle. I don't think I shall ever forget the first tune played. It was the then popular " Not for Joe," which up to then I had considered rather a•' fetching " air. At the close of that eventful day, when I had heard ' * Not for Joe " ground out about six dozen times, together with the four or five others which composed the repertoire of the instrument, I thought it was the most detestablo tune ever composed, for weeks afterwards I never could hear a street boy whistle it without longing to box the performers ears. When two tunes had been played my companion instructed me to take my turn at the handle. Have you ever "ground an organ," gentle reader ? It looks simple enough, doesn't it ? Sol thought; but my first effort was such a ghastly failure that the little crowd assembled burst into a roar of laughter- I could not turn the handle mechanically and regularly. Unconsciously I " timed " it to the music, which in its turn was "timed " in terribly erratic fashion. My companion pointed this out, and turned off the laugh by saying :

'• No bono this Johnnie, molto nuovo —dam' fooli, eh ?" a remark which set the crowd off into another roar of laughter, but restored its gojd humour, and the tin scallop shell which the girl handed round received the first collection of the day, amounting to 4|d, Meanwhile I was getting the " hang " of the handle, as one would say, and the jerkiness of my performance gradually disappeared. At the close of the fourth air, a selection from "Norma"my companion muttered: " Assai—andiamo," and we started off for our next pitch, which was a quiet street, lined with houses of a good class. At the first bars of " The Bronze Horse" eager little faces appeared at the windows, and my companion told me that this was one of the best " pitches "on the round. So it proved.

And so the day wore on. How my arm ached with turning that infernal handle ! how my body ached with dragging that blessed organ mile after mile, and how my head ached with the constant repetition time after time of those terrible tunes. But my pride wouldn't allow me to give in while one of the weaker sex stuck to the job. About 1 o'clock we halted for lunch. My economical companion produced irom the looker of the organ the " dinner " which had been provided for Lerself and her unlucky partner. This consisted of a remarkable looking sausage which, on being cut, smelled even more remarkably than it looked, and a " length " of very stale, dark coloured bread. I was invited to join in the repast, but politely declined. Entering an adjacent publichouse, I purchased a pork-pie and a quart of "four ale." The first I consumed hungrily, with an appetite born of hard and unaccustomed manual labour ; the second I shared with my companion, who, if t-he preferred the highly seasoned food of her native land, took very pleasantly to " the wine of the country." We had one adventure that I feared was going to end disastrously for our day's business. We halted in a quiet street which, to my inexperienced eyes, looked very unpromising. My companion instead of " tuning up," uttered a shrill yodel in front of one of the houses, and awaited results. In lets than a minute a window on the first floor was opened, and an old gentleman with a bald head and the largest pair of moustachios I had ever seen appeared thereat. " You wantee me play !" said the girl smiling. "Yes, yes; playaway, playaway,"was the ready response; and round went the handle. Before half a dozen bars of that awful 4 , Not for Joe " had floated out on the air, the door of the house exactly opposite opened, and a page-boy, resplendent in buttons dartedout and ran off down the street. My companion looked up at the bald-headed one and smiled more broadly than ever, while he nodded energetically and laughed heartily. In a few minutes the page boy returned accompanied by—a policeman ! That functionary came up to us and gruffly ordered us to " move on out of that." " Don't you do anything of the sort!" cried out our old gentleman excitedly. "It's all right, constablo, l'va engaged them to play." The policeman turned round and touched his helmet.

" A gent over the way, sir," he said, " sends Lis servant and complains of the row, so they must move on." " Nothing of the kind, I want 'em to play—l'm paying for 'era to play," and he threw ue down a shilling, which my companion secured, and then struck up the continuation of " Not for Joe."

Evidently the thing had happened before, though the constable was new on tho beat, for doors and windows opened and the neighbours began to enjoy it, and when at last the policeman decided wo must " move on" the pitch was well worked out.

]»y eight o'ebek in the evening I was tired out, My companion admitted that, the day's takings had been good. So we halted for a" rquare up." My share amounted tc -Is 2d, and I can conscientiously afKert that never before or since have I woikcd so hard for tuch wages, -Pall Mall Gazette