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“ ‘There’s an odd name for such a dingy court, Paradise Alley,* said Ford. ‘ Let’s go up there; we might find some material.' w “ Accordingly, the two sauntered up the half block, and for squalor and poverty it seemed that the limit had been reached. As they turned to go back to Market street a little girl about 12 years old came out of the tumble-down hovel, a shawl over her yellow curls and a battered tin dinner pail in her hand. It needed but one glance to show them that she was the little mother of some struggling family. She started back at seeing strangers and soon dis- appeared. ‘Come on, Jack,* said Ford, ‘there’s a song at last,* and then they wrote the ‘Sunshine of Paradise Alley.' “ ‘Only Me,* which was also written and composed by the same pair, was suggested by an incident which hap- pened at Sheepshead Bay. Ford was visiting a family at that place, and after dinner Mrs. L proposed some music in the parlor. Two little girls, cne 7 and the other 4, were playing in an adjoining room. In the midst of a song one of the children overturned a chair with consider- able clatter. The mother called reprovingly : “‘Was that you, sweetheart ?’ meaning the younger “ ‘The answer came back plaintively : ‘No, mamma, it was only me. * “ In a moment the unconscious favoritism was apparent. The ungrammatical acknowledgment of the mishap, so hopelessly given, seemed to lay bare a child’s heart that was yearning for some of the mother’s pet phrases. The song followed, and Mrs. L has never forgiven Ford and Bratton.—From the New York Sun.