canariensis, all helped to make the little place beautiful.

'What a pretty home you have, little Jack!' I said.

He kept tight hold of my hand, lest I should escape from him, and led me
on--into a tiny entrance hall, past one or two doors, down a dark
passage, and into a room at the back.

This room had a small bow-window overlooking the sea, the walls were
covered with bookshelves, a writing-table stood in the window, and in
the corner by the fireplace was the extraordinary object I had been
brought to see--an extremely ancient and antiquated barrel-organ.

What a peculiar thing to come across in a preacher's study! What
possible use could he have for it? It was a most dilapidated old
instrument, almost falling to pieces with old age. The shape was so
old-fashioned that I do not remember ever having seen one like it; the
silk, which had doubtless once been its adornment, was torn into shreds,
and it was impossible to tell what its original colour had been; the
wood was worm-eaten and decayed, and the leg upon which it had rested
could no longer support its weight.

'Let me hear you play it, Jack,' I said.

He sat down with great pride to turn the handle, but I noticed that half
the notes were broken off the barrel, which accounted for only fragments
of each tune being heard, whilst many bars of some were wanting
altogether. However, Jack seemed very proud of his performance, and
insisted on my staying till he had gone through the whole of the four
tunes which the poor old thing was supposed to play. He announced their