And all these people in the streets, and more, thousands of people--all Boston!--would read my poem, and learn my name, and wonder who I was.

I smiled to myself in delicious amusement when a man deliberately put me out of his path, as I dreamed my way through the jostling crowd; if he only _knew_ whom he was treating so unceremoniously! When the paper with my poem in it arrived, the whole house pounced upon it at once.

I was surprised to find that my verses were not all over the front page.

The poem was a little hard to find, if anything, being tucked away in the middle of the voluminous sheet.

But when we found it, it looked wonderful, just like real poetry, not at all as if somebody we knew had written it.