BOYS
"I see they are making shingles out of cement now."
"Then I recall my wish to be a boy again."
One of Theodore Roosevelt's sons, when small, was playing in the Washington streets when a woman recognized him and said she didn't think his father would like his playing with so many "common boys."
"My father says there are no common boys," replied the young Roosevelt.
"He says there are only tall boys and short boys, and good boys and bad boys, and that's all the kinds of boys there are."
Johnny stood beside his mother as she made her selection from the green grocer's cart, and the latter told the boy to take a handful of nuts, but the child shook his head.
"What's the matter, don't you like nuts?" asked the green grocer.
"Yes," replied Johnny.
"Then go ahead and take some."
Johnny hesitated, whereupon the green grocer put a generous handful in Johnny's cap.
After the man had driven on the mother asked: "Why didn't you take the nuts when he told you to?"
Johnny winked as he said: "'Cause his hand was bigger'n mine."
Golly! Let him whistle, mother!
He's just boy—that's all.
Let him be one while he can: you'll find it pays.
Jolly little baby brother!
When the shadows fall
You'll be wishin' he was back in boyhood days!
If you'd been in France and seen
All the things that I have seen—
Baby faces that will never
Baby faces be again—
Say! You wouldn't check that whistle
For a million iron men!
Lordy! mother, let him holler!
He's not hurting anything;
And he's carefree as a puppy—just that gay.
Dirty shirt, without a collar—
Never was a king
Happy as that baby yonder, yelling at his play.
Little kiddies over there—
Solemn eyes and tangled hair—
Ten years old? That's still a baby!
What he's doin's baby stuff!
And the dignity of manhood
Will be comin' quick enough!
Let him yell and squeal and whistle,
Rollin' in the sand;
Let him have the freedom of the whole back lot.
Things that hurt like thorn o' thistle
Workin' in your hand
You'll be wishin' some time that those things were not!
When I think of babies—old
From the things that can't be told—
And then look at him a-dancin',
Singin', shoutin', in his joy:
Don't put out a hand to stop him!
Mother—let him be a boy!
William's uncle was a very tall, fine-looking man, while his father was very small. William admired his uncle, and wished to grow up like him. One day he said to his mother:
"Mama, how did uncle grow so big and tall?"
His mother said: "Well, when uncle was a small boy he was always a very good boy, and tried to do what was right at all times; so God let him grow up big and tall."
William thought this over seriously for a few minutes, then said: "Mama, what kind of a boy was papa?"
See also Office boys.