as a boy. I used
to have my breakfast at seven," and then telling the boy all about his
boyhood, the cheery poet led him to the dining-room, and for the first
time he breakfasted away from home and ate pie--and that with "The
Autocrat" at his own breakfast-table!

A cosier time no boy could have had. Just the two were there, and the
smiling face that looked out over the plates and cups gave the boy
courage to tell all that this trip was going to mean to him.

"And you have come on just to see us, have you?" chuckled the poet.
"Now, tell me, what good do you think you will get out of it?"

He was told what the idea was: that every successful man had something
to tell a boy, that would be likely to help him, and that Edward wanted
to see the men who had written the books that people enjoyed. Doctor
Holmes could not conceal his amusement at all this.

When breakfast was finished, Doctor Holmes said: "Do you know that I am
a full-fledged carpenter? No? Well, I am. Come into my
carpenter-shop."

And he led the way into a front-basement room where was a complete
carpenter's outfit.

"You know I am a doctor," he explained, "and this shop is my medicine.
I believe that every man must have a hobby that is as different from
his regular work as it is possible to be. It is not good for a man to
work all the time at one thing. So this is my hobby. This is my
change. I like to putter away at these things. Every day I try to
come down here for an hour or so. It rests me because it gives my mind
a complete change. For, whether you believe it or not," he added with
his inimitable chuckle, "to make a poem and to make a chair are two
very different things.

"Now," he continued, "if you think you can learn something from me,
learn that and remember it when you are a man. Don't keep always at
your business, whatever it may be. It makes no difference how much you
like it. The more you like it, the more dangerous it is. When you
grow up you will understand what I mean by an 'outlet'--a hobby, that
is--in your life, and it must be so different from your regular work
that it will take your thoughts into an entirely different direction.
We doctors call it a safety-valve, and it is. I would much rather,"
concluded the poet, "you would forget all that I have ever written than
that you should forget what I tell you about having a safety-valve."

"And now do you know," smilingly said the poet, "about the Charles
River her