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NCE upon a time—I begin it thus, because it is such a very old story—a person stood before the painting of a sunset. Presently he turned to the artist. "I never saw such colors as those in a sunset," he said.

And the artist looked at him and smiled:—"But, my friend," he said, "don't you wish that you could?"

And so, should any of my readers feel tempted to say:—"I know no children like these," I would reply to them:—"But don't you wish that you did?"

K. M. Y.
 * Chicago, June 1, 1909.