der 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. It occupied a gratifying amount of
space, and was introduced by a flattering biographical sketch of the
author--the _author_!--the material for which the friendly editor had
artfully drawn from me during that happy interview. And my name, as I
had prophesied, was at the bottom!

When the excitement in the house had subsided, my father took all the
change out of the cash drawer and went to buy up the "Herald." He did
not count the pennies. He just bought "Heralds," all he could lay his
hands on, and distributed them gratis to all our friends, relatives,
and acquaintances; to all who could read, and to some who could not.
For weeks he carried a clipping from the "Herald" in his breast
pocket, and few were the occasions when he did not manage to introduce
it into the conversation. He treasured that clipping as for years he
had treasured the letters I wrote him from Polotzk.

Although my father bought up most of the issue containing my poem, a
few hundred copies were left to circulate among the general public,
enough to spread the flame of my patriotic ardor and to enkindle a
thousand sluggish hearts. Really, there was something more solemn than
vanity in my satisfaction. Pleased as I was with my notoriety--and
nobody but I knew how exceedingly pleased--I had a sober feeling about
it all. I enjoyed being praised and admired and envied; but what gave
a divine flavor to my happiness was the idea that I had publicly borne
testimony to the goodness of my exalted hero, to the greatness of my
adopted country. I did not discount the homage of Arlington Street,
because I did not properly rate the intelligence of its population. I
took the admiration of my schoolmates without a grain of salt; it was
just so much honey to me. I could not know that what made me great in
the eyes of my neighbors was that "there was a piece about me in the
paper"; it ma