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Show Rummer and Winter. A boy of 10, whose constant cry for weeks has been for a relocippdo for a present, came in from school a day or two ago and asked his mother if she had ever road Holmes' poems. "Oh, yes," she replied. "I knowmany of them by heart." "Do you?' he cried. "Well, aren't they nice? Have we got them in a book?" "No," answered his mother; "I wish we had." "I feel as if I must have them?" said the small boy eiiniustly. "Don't you suppose I could have them? Now, I'll tell you what it is" with au air of profound conviction con-viction "if I can't have both I believe I'd rather have Holmes' poems than a velocipedn!" "Indeed!" exclaimed bis mother, mnoh siirpnued and pleased. Then, turning to the boy's father, she remarked pleasantly, pleasant-ly, "Really, I don't know but we are going go-ing to have a poet in the family." "Oh, no!" cried the boy rpuickly; 'Tin going to be baseball player, and when I grow up, you know but I'll tell you what," he added, suddenly, "I might be a poet winters." Kate Upson Clark in Washington R.ennllic |