Globe, Journal, sir?
All about the murder.”
Through the windows of the neighboring candy store, one sees a tall young man wrapped to the ears in his fur-trimmed coat, buying a dainty box of choice chocolates, and carefully instructing the salesman to “put in lots of almonds, please, and those small ones with the cream filling-but no brandy drops.”
Four youths in white sweaters, with their hair much tumbled, are standing in a doorway.
One of the lads, in excited tones and with much gesticulating, is showing the others just how some fellow made “such a fine run round the end, not downed till he reached the five-yard line.”
A good-sized knot of people gathers to hear him, thus obstructing the path of the two old goodies, who have come down from their work in the rooms above, and are grumbling contemptuously about “thim byes gone daft over that neck-breaking football.”
John the Orangeman and his donkey clatter by homeward bound.
John waves his whip at the students in the doorway, and they shout a hearty good-night after his retreating cart.
The peanut man's stand has a delightfully mysterious look.
The yawning red mouth of the black monster shoots and spits tiny spirals of blue flame out into the white, frosty air. The peanut-man, himself, is very good-natured, for the demand for his wares has been brisk all this cold November day.
Just now a strolling street band plays the “Tabasco March
” in front of Sever, while a block away an asthmatic hand organ tries to keep pace, with “Daisy-ell.”
Two notes in this last piece are missing, and several more are injured, so the ear is