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Show RAGPICKER CREW IN OLD MONROE HOUSE But Memory of Great American Amer-ican Is Preserved. .Tallies Jl.inriv. nf;h President of the I'niied lilies. nut have kept the 01.1 world out hi the '.vestern hemisphere, l.ut t.e failed i.j keep the sons uf the old world away from his own preside. T.niy from Na.iles, Mike from Palermo, Aiiln irein Koine, and Joe from Milan sat before the Monroe fireplace the oilier ilny. There was no tire, but the yanin aperture made space for .he rails ami paper thut came from I heir busy tinkers. Tony, and Mike and Angelo. and Joe were sorting rags on the very spot where Monroe. Hamilton Ham-ilton and the distinguished visiting l''renehm;in, Lafayette, had passed pleasant afternoons almost 100 years In the old Dutch mansion of Sam (loiiverneur at Prince and Lafayette t reels, New York city, where the ex-President ex-President lived in genial retirement, entertaining his friends of the days of L'lory in Washington, the rag sorters from Italy and sundry workers from other pans of Europe kept busily ui ihir tasks while they talked of the great man who hail lived and died in their work place. They were a Utile hazy on the d "tails of history, and t hoy were at odds as to the precise place in history of "the higga boss." hut If Monroe had heard the simple recognition of his creatness that came from Tony or Angelo or any one of them he might have relented a bit on his famous doctrine. ; "Sure, the higga boss live here." said : ( Tony. "He run the whole country. He was poor man and he stop down here where the people elect him. The big i sign outside tell all about him. He's I a one great man. He's a hero before ; Tom Foley long while ago. He's a : some guy. lie's a gotter more pull than Foley, too." i "Gov, an! Gowan 1 Shut tip! He's a higga da man. hut he come down be low Foley!" chipped in Angelo. "Foley gotta more pull than him." "Well, he's a good guy and he tal everybody 'yon not like this country you take a ship home.' He's all right," Tony insisted, but the arrival of the snappy young Italian-American, Joseph Jo-seph Gorili, who has leased the old mansion for his rag and paper-sorting shop, sent the workers hack to picking. The old place is a shell of a building with here and there just a hint of its fallen grandeur. The inside walls are tumbling down and the fireplaces are cracking. The old pillars of the front doorway stand bravely up and the arched Colonial doorway holds the frame of carved woodwork in which set the 12 little panes of crystal. The door is gone and a cheap rough mod- : ern door with a padlock has taken its . place. The old brownstone top step Is worn almost through, but it holds Its place. Up in the chamber where Monroe Mon-roe died rags are piled high where the bed once stood. The chamber Is dark and mystic and a dreamer can picture ; the passing of the founder of the Monroe Mon-roe doctrine until some one cries a warning and another bundle of rags comes tumbling in. Such Is the pres- 1 enf state of the home of Monroe in his last days. There is a movement on foot to pre- i serve the place as a shrine and in the meantime it is good to know that the humble workers from the Old world who pass busy days there now all know that a great man and a great . I American once lived there. |