Chapter 1

hills to the time it splashed into the dirty little boy's tub. It began as a little spring of water. Then the water was as cool as cool could be for it came up from the deep cool earth all hidden away from the sun. It came up into a little hollow scooped out of the earth and in the hollow were little pebbles. Right up through the pebbles, bubbling and gurgling it came. And what do you suppose the water did when the little hollow was all full? It did just what water always does, it tried to find a way to run down hill! One side of the little hollow was lower than the others and here the water spilled over and trickled down. And this is the song the water sang then:

"I bubble up so cool Into the pebbly pool. Over the edge I spill And gallop down the hill!"

So the water became a little stream and began its long journey to the little boy's tub. And always it wanted to run down--always down, and as it ran, it tinkled this song:

"I sing, I run, In the shade, in the sun, It's always fun To sing and to run."

Sometimes it pushed under twigs and leaves; sometimes it made a big noise tumbling over the roots of trees; sometimes it flowed all quiet and slow through long grasses in a meadow. Once it came to the edge of a pretty big rock and over it went, splashing and crashing and dashing and making a fine, fine spray.

It sang to the little birds that took their baths in the spray. And the little birds ruffled their feathers to get dry and sang back to the little brook. "Ching-a-ree!" they sang. It sang to the bunny rabbit who got his whiskers all wet when he took a drink. It sang to the mother deer who always came to the same place and licked up some water with her tongue. To all of these and many more little wild wood things the little brook rippled its song:

"I sing, I run, In the shade, in the sun, It's always fun To sing and to run."

But to the fish in the big dark pool under the rocks it sang so softly, so quietly, that only the fishes heard.

Now all the time that the little brook kept running down hill, it kept getting bigger. For every once in a while it would be joined by another little brook coming from another hillside spring. And, of course, the two of them were twice as large as each had been alone. This kept happening until the stream was a small river,--so big and deep that the horses couldn't ford it any more. Then people built bridges over it, and this made the small river feel proud. Little boats sailed in it too,--canoes and sail boats and row boats. Sometimes they held a lot of little boys without any clothes on who jumped into the water and splashed and laughed and splashed and laughed.

At last the river was strong enough to carry great gliding boats, with deep deep voices. "Toot," said the boats, "tootoot-tooooooooot!"

And now the song of the river was low and slow as it answered the song of the boats:

"I grow and I flow As I carry the boats, As I carry the boats of men."

After the little river had been running down hill for ever so long, it came to a place where the banks went up very high and steep on each side of it. Here something strange happened. The little river was stopped by an enormous wall. The wall was made of stone and cement and it stretched right across the river from one bank to the other. The little river couldn't get through the wall, so it just filled up behind it. It filled and filled until it found that it had spread out into a real little lake. Only the people who walked around it called it a reservoir!

Now in the wall was just one opening down near the bottom. And what do you suppose that led to? A pipe! But the pipe was so big that an elephant could have walked down it swinging his trunk! Only, of course, there wasn't any elephant there.

Now the little river didn't like to have his race down hill stopped. So he began muttering to himself:

"What shall I do, oh, what shall I do? Here's a big dam and I can't get through! Behind the dam I fill and fill But I want to go running and running down hill! If the pipe at the bottom will let me through I'll run through the pipe! That's what I'll do!"

So he rushed into the pipe as fast as he could for there he found he could run down hill again! He ran and he ran for miles and miles. Above him he knew there were green fields and trees and cows and horses. These were the things he had sung to before he rushed into the pipe. Then after a long time he knew he was under something different. He could feel thousands of feet scurrying this way and that; he could feel thousands of horses pulling carriages and wagons and trucks; he could feel cars, subways, engines;--he could feel so many things crossing him that he wondered they didn't all bump each other. Then he knew he was under the Big City. And this is the song he shouted then:

"Way under the street, street, street, I feel the feet, feet, feet. I feel their beat, beat, beat, Above on the street, street, street."

And then again something queer happened. Every once in a while a pipe would go off from the big pipe. Now one of these pipes turned into a certain street and then a still smaller pipe turned off into a certain house and a still smaller pipe went right up between the walls of the house. And in this house there lived the dirty little boy.

The water flowed into the street pipe and then it flowed into the house pipe and then,--what do you think?--it went right up that pipe between the walls of the house! For you see even the top of that dirty little boy's house isn't nearly as high as the reservoir on the hill where the water started and the water can run up just as high as it has run down.

In the bath-room was the dirty little boy. His face was dirty, his hands were dirty, his feet were dirty and his knees--oh! his knees were very, very dirty. This very dirty little boy went over to the faucet and slowly turned it. Out came the water splashing, and crashing and dashing.

"My! but I need a bath tonight," said the dirty little boy as he heard the water splashing in the tub. The water was still the singing water that had sung all the way from the far-away hills. It had sung a bubbling song when it gurgled up as a spring; it had sung a tinkling song as it rippled down hill as a brook; it had crooned a flowing song when it bore the talking boats; it had muttered and throbbed and sung to itself as it ran through the big, big pipe. Now as it splashed into the dirty little boy's tub it laughed and sang this last song:

"I run from the hill,--down, down, down, Under the streets of the town, town, town, Then in the pipe, up, up, up, I tumble right into your tub, tub, tub."

And the dirty little boy laughed and jumped into the Singing Water!

THE CHILDREN'S NEW DRESSES

An old pattern with new content. The steps in the process were originally dug out by a child of six through his own questions.

THE CHILDREN'S NEW DRESSES

Once there was a small town. In the small town were many houses and in the houses were many people. In one of these houses there lived a mother with a great many children. One night after the children were all in bed and the mother was sitting by the fire, a brick fell down the chimney. Then another came bumping and rattling down. Now outside there was a great wind blowing. It whistled down the chimney and up flamed the fire. The sparks flew into the hole where the bricks had fallen out. The first thing the mother knew the house was all on fire. Still the great wind roared. The house next door caught fire, then the next, then the next, then the next, until half the little town was burning. The mother with the many children and many other frightened people ran to the part of the town behind the great wind. And there they stayed until the wind died down and they could put the fire out.

Now many of these people's clothes had burned with their houses. The many children who had gone to bed before the fire began had nothing to wear except their nightclothes. The mother went to the store. That too was burned! But she found the storekeeper and said:--"Storekeeper, sell me some dresses for my children for their dresses have been burned and they have nothing to wear."

"But, mother of the many children," the storekeeper replied, "first I must get me the dresses. For that I must send to the many-fingered factory in the middle of the city."

So he sent to the many-fingered factory in the middle of the great city and he said:--"Clothier, send me some dresses that I may sell to the mother; for her children's dresses have burned up and they have nothing to wear."

But the clothier in the many-fingered factory replied:--"First I must get me the cloth. For that I must send to the weaving mill. The weaving mill is in the hills where there is water to turn its wheels."

So the clothier sent to the weaving mill in the hills where there is water to turn its wheels and said:--"Weaver, send me the cloth that the many fingers at the factory may make dresses to send to the storekeeper in the small town to sell to the mother; for her children's dresses have burned up and they have nothing to wear."

But the weaver in the weaving mill in the hills sent back word:--"First I must get me the cotton. For that I must send to the cotton fields. The cotton fields are in the south where the land is hot and low."

So the weaver in the weaving mill in the hills sent to the cotton plantation, and he said:--"Planter, send me the cotton from the hot low lands that I may make cloth in the mill in the hills to send to the clothier in the many-fingered factory in the middle of the great city to be made into dresses to send to the storekeeper in the small town to sell to the mother; for her children's dresses have burned up and they have nothing to wear."

But the planter sent back word:--"First I must get the negroes to pick the cotton. For cotton must be picked in the hot sun and negroes are the only ones who can stand the sun."

So the planter went to the negroes and he said:--"Pick me the cotton from the hot low lands that I may send it to the weaver in his mill in the hills that he may weave the cloth to send to the clothier in the many-fingered factory in the middle of the great city to make dresses to send to the storekeeper in the small town to sell to the mother; for her children's dresses have burned up and they have nothing to wear."

But the negroes answered:--"First de sun, he hab got to shine and shine and shine! 'Cause de sun, he am de only one dat can make dem little seed bolls bust wide open!"

So the negroes sang to the sun:--"Big sun, so shiny hot! Is you gwine to shine on dem cotton bolls so we can pick de cotton for de massah so he can send it to de weaver in de weaving mills in de hills to weave into cloth so he can send it to de clothier in de many-fingered factory in de middle of de big city to make dresses to send to de storekeeper in de small town so he can sell it to de mammy; for de chillun's dresses hab gone and burned up and dey ain't got nothin' to wear!"

Now the sun heard the song of the negroes of the south. And he began to shine. And he kept on shining on the hot low lands. And when the cotton bolls on the hot low lands felt the sun shine and shine and shine, they burst wide open. Then the negroes picked the cotton, the planter shipped it, the weaver wove it, the clothier made it into dresses, and the storekeeper sold them to the mother.

So at last the many children took off their nightclothes and put on their new dresses. And so they were all happy again!

OLD DAN GETS THE COAL

The occupations of the city horse are always absorbing to the school children. They have many tales about various "Old Dans" and their various trades. The docks are familiar to almost all the children,--even to the four-year-olds. This verse is meant to be read fast or slow according to whether or no the wagon is empty.

OLD DAN GETS THE COAL

Old Dan, he lives in a stable, he does, He sleeps in a stable stall. Old Dan, he eats in the stable, he does, He eats the hay from the manger, he does, He pulls the hay And he chews the hay When he eats in his stable stall.

Old Dan, he leaves the stable, he does, He pulls the wagon behind. Old Dan he goes trotting along, so he does, He trots with the wagon all empty, he does; The wagon, it clatters, The mud, it all spatters Old Dan with the wagon behind.

Old Dan, he trots to the dock, he does, He trots to the coal barge dock. Old Dan, he stands by the barge, he does, He stands and the big crane creaks, it does. Up! into the chute, Bang! out of the chute Comes the coal at the coal barge dock!

Old Dan, he pulls the load, he does, He pulls the heavy load. Old Dan he pulls the coal, he does, He slowly pulls the heavy coal. The wagon thumps, It bumps, it clumps When old Dan pulls the load.

Old Dan, he stands by the house, he does, And the coal rattles out behind. Old Dan stands still by the house, he does, He stands and the slippery coal, so it does Goes rattlety klang! Zippy kabang! As it slides from the wagon behind!

Old Dan, he then leaves the house, so he does, A-pulling the wagon behind. Old Dan he goes trotting along, so he does, He trots with the wagon all empty, he does. The wagon it clatters, The mud it all spatters Old Dan with the wagon behind.

Old Dan, comes home to his stable, he does, Home to his stable stall. He finds the hay in the stable, he does, He eats the hay from the manger, he does, He pulls the hay, He chews the hay, Then he sleeps in his stable stall.

THE SUBWAY CAR

The relationship which this story aims to clarify is the social significance of the subway car--its construction and the need it answers to. Children have enjoyed the verse better, I think, than any other in the book.

THE SUBWAY CAR

The surface car is a poky car, It stops 'most every minute. At every corner someone gets out And someone else gets in it. It stops for a lady, an auto, a hoss, For any old thing that wants to cross, This poky old, stupid old, silly old, timid old, lumbering surface car.

Up on high against the sky The elevated train goes by. Above it soars, above it roars On level with the second floors Of dirty houses, dirty stores Who have to see, who have to hear This noisy ugly monster near. And as it passes hear it yell, "I'm the deafening, deadening, thunderous, hideous, competent, elegant el."

Under the ground like a mole in a hole, I tear through the white tiled tunnel, With my wire brush on the rail I rush From station to lighted station. Levers pull, the doors fly ope', People press against the rope. And some are stout and some are thin And some get out and some get in. Again I go. Beginning slow I race, I chase at a terrible pace, I flash and I dash with never a crash, I hurry, I scurry with never a flurry. I tear along, flare along, singing my lightning song, "I'm the rushing, speeding, racing, fleeting, rapid subway car."

THE SUBWAY CAR

Whew-ee-ee-ee-ew-ew went the siren whistle. And all the men and all the women hurried toward the factory. For that meant it was time to begin work. Each man and each woman went to his particular machine. The steam was up; the belts were moving; the wheels were whirring; the piston rods were shooting back and forth. And one man made a piece of wheel, and one man made a part of a brake, and one man made a belt, and one man made a leather strap, and one man made a door, and one man made some straw-covered seats, and one man made a window-frame, and one man made a little wire brush. And then some other men took all these things and began putting them together. And when the car was finished some other men came and painted it, and on the side they painted the number 793.

The car stood on the siding wondering what he was for and what he was to do. Suddenly he heard another car come bumping and screeching down the track. Before the new car could think what was happening,--bang!--the battered old car went smash into him. This seemed to be just what the man standing along side expected. For the car felt him swing on to the steps, and shout "Go ahead." At the same minute the car felt a piece of iron slip from his own rear and hook into the front of the other car.

And "go ahead" he did, though No. 793 thought he would be wrenched to pieces.

"Whatever is happening to me?" he nervously asked the car that was pushing him. "I feel my wheels going round and round underneath me and I can't stop them. Can't you just hear me creak? I'm afraid I will split in two."

The dilapidated old thing behind simply screamed with delight as he jounced over a switch.

"See here, now," he said in a rasping voice, "what do you think wheels are for anyway if they are not to go round? And if you can't hang together in a quiet little jaunt like this, you had better turn into a baby carriage and be done with it. Say, what do you think you were made for anyway, Freshie?"

With this he gave a vicious pull. Freshie thought it would probably loosen every carefully fastened bolt in his whole structure.

"And what's more," continued the amused and irritated old car, "if you think all you've got to do is to be pulled around like a fine lady in a limousine, you are pretty well fooled. Wait till you feel the juice go through you--just wait--that's all I say."

"What is juice?" groaned No. 793.

But he could get no answer except "Just wait, you will find out soon enough."

In another minute he had found out. He felt his door pulled open and a heavy tread come clump, clump, clump down the whole length of him to the little closet room at the end. There he felt levers pulled and switches turned. Suddenly the little wire brush underneath him dropped until it touched the third rail. Z-z-zr-zr-zr-zz-zz--What in the name of all blazes was happening to him? He tingled in every bolt. He quivered with fear. "This must be the juice!" Another lever was turned. He leaped forward on the track, jerking and thumping and creaking.

Then he settled down and it wasn't so bad. The first scare was over. He did not go to pieces. On the contrary he felt so excited and strong that he almost told the old thing behind him to take off his brush and let himself be pulled. But he was afraid of the cross old car. So he ventured timidly: "Isn't this great? I should like to go flying along in the sun like this all day."

"In the sun?" snarled his old companion. "Come now, Freshie, can't you catch on to what you are? You just look your fill at the old sun now for you won't see him again for some time."

"Why not?" whimpered No. 793.

But he needed no answer. Ahead of him he could see the track sliding down into a deep hole. The earth closed over him in a queer rounded arch, all lined with shiny white tiles. At the same moment the lights all up and down his own ceiling flashed on. He noticed then that he had a red lantern on his front. He could tell it by the red, glinting reflections it threw on the tiles as he tore along. Ahead he could see a great cluster of lights which seemed to be rushing towards him. Of course he was really rushing towards them, but he was so excited he got all mixed in his ideas.

"Where are we? And what on earth is that rushing towards us? And why do we come down here under the ground?" he screamed to the old car behind.

"There's no room for us on top," jerked the old car. "There are a heap of people in this old city of New York, Freshie, and you will find 'em on the surface or scooting in the elevated and here jogging along underneath the earth."

"People!" screamed No. 793, "I don't see any. What do we do with them in this hole anyway?"

Even as he spoke he felt the man in the little closet room in his front turn something. His wire brush lifted and all his strength seemed to ooze away. Then something clutched his wheels. He screeched,--yes, he really screeched, and then he stood still, close to the station platform. The station looked big to No. 793 and very brilliantly lighted. It was jammed with people who stood pressed against ropes in long rows.

A man on his own platform pulled down a handle and then another. He felt his end doors and then his center doors fly open. Then tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp--a hundred feet came pounding on his floor. He could feel them and somehow he liked the feel. He could even feel two small feet that walked much faster than the others, and in another moment he felt two little knees on one of his straw-covered seats. Then the handles were pulled again. His doors banged closed; z-zr-zr-rr--the brush underneath touched the rail and the electricity shot through him. He felt a hundred feet shift quickly and heavily. He felt his leather straps clutched by a hundred hands. And amid the noise he heard a little voice say, "Father, isn't this a brand new subway car?" And then he knew what he was!

BORIS TAKES A WALK AND FINDS MANY DIFFERENT KINDS OF TRAINS

This first story is an attempt to let a child discover the significance of his everyday environment,--of subways and elevated railways. Here there is no content new to the city child. But the relationship to congestion he has not always seen for himself. In the second story the lay-out of New York on a crowded island is discovered. Again the content is old but its significance may be new. Both these stories verge on the informational.

BORIS TAKES A WALK AND FINDS MANY DIFFERENT KINDS OF TRAINS

Many little boys and girls With fathers and with mothers, Many little boys and girls With sisters and with brothers, Many little boys and girls They come from far away. They sail and sail to big New York, And there they land and stay! And you would never, never guess When they grow big and tall, That they had come from far away When they were wee and small!

One of the little boys who sailed and sailed until he came to big New York was named Boris. He came as the others did, with his father and his mother and his sisters and his brothers. He came from a wide green country called Russia. In that country he had never seen a city, never seen wharves with ocean steamers and ferry boats and tug boats and barges,--never seen a street so crowded you could hardly get through, had never seen great high buildings reaching up, up, up to the clouds, he thought. And he had never heard a city, never heard the noise of elevated trains and surface cars and automobiles and the many, many hurrying feet. He often thought of the wide green country he had left behind, and he used to talk about it to his mother in a funny language you wouldn't understand. For Boris and his family still spoke Russian. But Boris was nine years old and he loved new things as well as old. So he grew to love this crowded noisy new home of his as well as the still wide country he had left.

Now Boris had been in New York quite a while. But he hadn't been out on the streets much. One day he said to his mother in the funny language, "I think I'll take a walk!"

"All right," she answered, "be careful you don't get run over by one of those queer wagons that run without horses!"

"Yes I will," laughed Boris for he was a careful and a smart little boy and knew well how to take care of himself for all he was so little.

So Boris went out on the street. He walked to the corner and waited to go across.

Kachunk, kachunk, kachunk went by an auto; Clopperty, clopperty, clopperty went by a horse; Thunk-a-ta, thunk-a-ta, bang, bang went by a truck.

He waited another minute.

Kachunk, kachunk, kachunk went by an auto; Clopperty, clopperty, clopperty went by a horse; Thunk-a-ta, thunk-a-ta, bang, bang went by a truck.

He stood there a long while watching this stream of autos and horses and trucks go by and he thought:

"Dear me! dear me! What shall I do? The're so many things, I'll never get through!"

Just then all the autos and the horses and the trucks stopped. They stood still right in front of him. And Boris saw that the big man standing in the middle of the street had put up his hand to stop them. So he scampered across. Boris didn't know that the big man was the traffic policeman!

Now Boris scampered down the block to the next street. There he waited to go across.

Kachunk, kachunk, kachunk went by an auto; Clopperty, clopperty, clopperty went by a horse; Thunk-a-ta, thunk-a-ta, bang, bang went by a truck.

He stood there a long time watching the autos and horses and trucks go by. And he thought:

"Dear me! dear me! What shall I do? The're so many things, I'll never get through!"

Boris looked at the big policeman who stood in the middle of _this_ street. After a while the big policeman raised his hand and all the autos and horses and trucks stopped and Boris scampered across and ran down the block to the next street crossing. And there the same thing happened again.

Kachunk, kachunk, kachunk went by an auto; Clopperty, clopperty, clopperty went by a horse; Thunk-a-ta, thunk-a-ta, bang, bang went by a truck.

"I'll not get much of a walk this way," he thought. "I have to wait and wait at each corner. And the're so many things I'll never get through." Just then he saw a street car. "I might take a car," he thought. But then he saw on the street a long line of cars waiting, waiting to get through. "It wouldn't do much good," he thought. "They're just like me."

"Dear me! dear me! What can they do? The're so many things, They'll never get through!"

Then he noticed a big hole in the sidewalk. Down the hole went some steps and down the steps hurried lots and lots of people. "I wonder what this is?" thought Boris and down the steps he ran.

At the bottom of the steps there was a big room all lined with white tile and all lighted with electric lights. On the side was the funniest little house with a little window in it and a man looking through the window. Boris watched carefully for he didn't understand. Everyone went up to the window and gave the man 5 cents and the man handed out a little piece of blue paper.

"That's a ticket," thought Boris, for he was a very smart little boy. "These people must be going somewhere." So he reached down in his pocket and pulled out a nickel. For all he was so little, and so new to New York, he knew what a 5 cent piece was quite well. He had to stand on tiptoe to hand the man his nickel and to reach his little blue ticket. Then he watched again. Everyone dropped this ticket in a funny little box by a funny little gate and another man moved a handle up and down. So Boris did just the same. He stood on tiptoe and dropped his ticket in the box and walked through the little gate to a big platform. And what do you think he saw there? A great long tunnel stretching off in both directions,--a long tunnel all lined with white tiles! And on the bottom were rails! "I wonder what runs on that track?" thought Boris.

Just then he heard a most terrible noise:

Rackety, clackety, klang, klong! Rackety, clackety, klang, klong!

and down the tunnel came a train of cars. "Yi-i-i-i--sh-sh-sh-sh!" screamed the cars and stopped right in front of Boris. And then what do you suppose happened? The doors in the car right in front of him flew open. Everyone stepped in. So did Boris.

It was the front car. He walked to the front and sat down where he could look out on the tracks. He could also look into the funny little box room and see the man who pulled the levers and made the car go and stop. In a moment they started:

Rackety, clackety, klang, klong! How fast! How fast!

Then "Yi-i-i-i--sh-sh-sh-sh!" The man put on the brakes and they stopped at another station. In another moment they started again. Rackety, clackety, klang, klong! Then "Yi-i-i-i--sh-sh-sh-sh" another station! And so they went flying from lighted station to lighted station through the white-tiled tunnel.

Boris was very happy. He sat quite still watching out of the window and saying with the car; rackety, clackety, klang, klong; rackety, clackety, klang, klong! "This is the way to go if you're in a hurry," he thought. He looked up and smiled to think of all the autos and horses and trucks above going oh! so slowly down the street!

At last he thought he would get out. So the next time the man put the brakes on and the train yelled "Yi-i-i-i--sh-sh-sh-sh!" Boris walked through the open doors on to the platform, then through the little gate, up some long steps and found himself on the street again. But right near him what do you think he saw? A park all full of trees and grass! This made Boris happy for he hadn't seen so many trees and so much grass since he had left the wide country in his old home in Russia. A little breeze was blowing too! He clapped his hands and ran around and laughed and laughed and laughed and sang:

"I like the grass, I like the trees, I like the sky, I like the breeze! I touch the grass, I touch the trees, Let me play in the Park, Oh, please! oh, please!"

So he ran all round and played in the Park.

Suddenly he thought it was time to go home. He looked for the hole in the sidewalk but he couldn't find it. And he didn't know how to ask for the subway for he didn't know its name and he couldn't talk English. "I'll have to walk!" he thought. He knew he must walk south for he had noticed which way the sun was when he went into the hole in the sidewalk. And now he noticed again where it was and so he could tell which way was south.

So Boris went out on the street. He walked to the corner and waited to go across.

Kachunk, kachunk, kachunk went by an auto; Clopperty, clopperty, clopperty went by a horse, Thunk-a-ta, thunk-a-ta, bang, bang went by a truck.

He waited another minute.

Kachunk, kachunk, kachunk went by an auto; Clopperty, clopperty, clopperty went by a horse; Thunk-a-ta, thunk-a-ta, bang, bang went by a truck.

He stood there a long time watching the stream of autos and horses and trucks go by. And he thought; "I'll never get home if I have to go as slowly as this.

"Dear me! dear me! What shall I do? The're so many things I'll never get through!"

And for all he was so smart he was a very little boy and he began to cry for his legs were tired and he was a little frightened, too.

Just then what do you suppose he saw? Down the street way up in the air on a kind of trestle, he saw a train of cars tearing by. "That's just what I want! That train doesn't have to stop for autos and horses and things!" thought Boris and he ran down the street. When he got to the high trestle, there was a long flight of stairs. Up the steps went Boris. At the top he found another funny little room with a window in it and a man looking out. This time he knew just what to do. He stood on tiptoe and gave the man 5 cents and the man handed him a little red piece of paper. Boris took it, walked through a little gate, stood on tiptoe and dropped the ticket into another funny little box and another man moved the handle up and down and his ticket dropped down. And what do you suppose he saw from the platform? Tracks again! Tracks stretching out in both directions. He didn't have to wait on the platform long before he heard the train coming. It seemed to say:

"I'm the elevated train, I'm the elevated train, I'm the elevated, elevated, elevated train!" It stopped right in front of Boris and Boris got into the front car again. Here was another man in another little box room moving more levers and making this train stop and go. And Boris could look right out in front and see the stations before he reached them. He could see bridges before they tore under them; he could look down and see the horses and the autos and the trucks. He smiled as he saw how slowly they had to go while he was racing along above them.

So Boris was quite happy and sat very still and watched out of the window. Suddenly he heard the conductor call "Fourteenth Street!" Now that was one of the few English words that Boris knew for he lived on 14th Street. Now he was pleased for he knew he was near home. So he got off the car, ran down the long, long steps and found himself on the street. Down 14th Street he ran until he came to his house.

"Well," called his mother. "You've been gone a long time! What did you see on the streets?"

Boris smiled. "I haven't been _on_ the streets much mother."

His mother was surprised. "Where have you been if you haven't been on the streets?" she asked.

Boris laughed and laughed. "There were so many things on the streets, so many autos and horses and trucks," he said, "that I couldn't go fast. So I found a wonderful train _under_ the streets and I went out on that. And I found a wonderful train _over_ the streets and I came home on that!"

"Well, well," said his mother. "Trains under and trains over! Think of that!" And Boris did think of them much. And when he was in bed that night, he seemed to hear this little song about them:

"Now out on the streets There everything meets And they're all in a hurry to go. But what can they do For they can't get through And all are so terribly slow?

"But under the street Where nothing can meet The subway goes rackety, klack! It can dash and can race, It can flash and can chase, For there's nothing ahead on the track.

"And over the street Where nothing can meet Is a wonderful train indeed! High up the stair Way up in the air It goes at remarkable speed."

BORIS WALKS EVERY WAY IN NEW YORK