EL ÚLTIMO ORGANITO.

The muddy wheels of the last barrel organ will come out of the afternoon, seeking the outskirts, with a thin horse, a limping man and a little monkey, and a chorus of girls dressed in simple cotton.

With muffled steps it will choose the corner where moonlight mingles with the light of a neighborhood shop, so that behind the little niche they may dance waltzes, the pale marchioness and the pale marquis.

The last barrel organ will go from door to door until it finds the house of the neighbor who has died, that neighbor who grew weary of loving; and there it will grind out tangos so the blind man may weep, the inconsolable blind man from Carriego's verse, who smokes and smokes and smokes, sitting on the threshold.

The last barrel organ will have a white case, and autumn's asthma will shake its sound, and little angels' heads will adorn its wooden boards, and the echo of its piano will be like a farewell.

The young women kept indoors will salute its absence, opening their shutters in the wake of its song, and the last barrel organ will vanish into nothingness, and the soul of the outskirts will be left without a voice.