The Newark journal., 1909-04-30
Copyright, by Joseph B. BowIes)

It Is at the time, when he Is nelth- CT boy nor man, but an anomaly He has come to the place when like cable car, he is told to let go. and then take hold" but he hangs on when he should .let go." and 1oses his grip intermittent1y when he should take hold" firmly His hands find no repose, because they say his bones have grown faster than his muscles He has been shot up into the ether so rapidly he does not know his own whereabouts His voice can ereak like a frog chirp like cricket and sing like an angel, all in the same sentence. One minute it goes rum bling down in the bowels of the earth as bass, and the next minute slips clean out of sight, as tenor And when he smiles, he seems to be try ing to work up some fresh cuticle that has grown upon his face since the day before; and if he succeeds in working it all up into a smile he doesn't know what to do with it. He looks as if he would like 10 swallow the thing But 1t is fetching smile. You always smile back at him and you can say in after days: His bright smile haHnts me still"
 That voice and smile do not always seem to work together for tranauilliz- i ing effects on the contrary, the ef- feet of two such stirring forces is often tantalizing, sometimes terroriz- ing They are accompanied by other phenomena
 He talks through his nose, wears out his clothes just where you don't l want him to wear them out. keeps his older sister, who is engaged to be married, in a state of peetoral pertur- batfon. He is not an unalloyed com 1 fort in the home. It is said. on good i authority. that there was once a time like that in our old home. But as I have no disposition to harrow or blow or rake up feelings that ought to have been peacefully slumbering these sey- eral decades, l pass that by.
 Perhaps that explains the antipathy which friend of mine says one of his grandfathers had for him, when a boy
 'A41 VI eAAiSl ettl4Ct CAollt lOStu Itu and thought he was the greatest thing that ever happened, and when he wis. fted him gave the lad the freedom of l the farm His Grandfather Brooks thought Fred was an inexcusable i'm. i pertinence, and when the lad came out to the farm put all kinds of linn its on his goings-wouldn't even let him climb up into the apple tree and l eat g<een apples in the leafy month 1 of June.
 Think of thati At that seductive pc rfod of the young apples life. when each little apple carries beneath it's shining epidermis neat little monkey wrench for the special entertainment of the little boy that happens to get on the outside of that little apple. Think of that, again.
 Fred says: They were both good men. have both died, have both gone to heaven. and when the time comes for me to go there, too. one of the first I shall want to see will be Grandpa Stone, but if Grandpa Brooks ever sees me, he will simply have to hunt me up
 At that curious stage all the inhar- monious elements seem to battle for him, and try to make him a savage or a seer, a bully and bandit. or a knight-errant, called to gallant adven- ture in behalf of the unfortunate. But because he is a boy he has his hold on everybody's saving sympathy Looks and dress don't count with HIS. He may wear tan shoes which the tanners tan by the latest process of tanning or chiefly the tanned epider- mis which his mother tans by the old process of tanning, which has proven so efficacious with us, and so satis. factory to our mothers.
 Dr. Theodore l.. Cuyler's mother re- ceived a letter from him one summer. when he was abroad, in which he said: Mother, I have been presented to the queen of England" With that letter in her hand she rushed into the next room where some of her friends were, and exclaimed: Ladies. the queen has seen Theodore" That is the attitude which counts when the boys voice is double and his smile singular
 He Is looking out on a new world and his pa is beginning to loom large, his sense of the presence of people Is made over, and his smile is often bestowed on some one whom he se cretly calls his girl" The unseen angels are singing to his dear soul.
 Strange that no man in love ever thinks enough to realize what a scrape