ledged 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
here?" as they returned to his study and stood before the large bay
window. "I love this river," he said. "Yes, I love it," he repeated;
"love it in summer or in winter." And then he was quiet for a minute or
so.

Edward asked him which of his poems were his favorites.

"Well," he said musingly, "I think 'The Chambered Nautilus' is my most
finished piece of work, and I suppose it is my favorite. But there are
also 'The Voiceless,' 'My Aviary,' written at this window, 'The Battle
of Bunker Hill,' and 'Dorothy Q,' written to the portrait of my
great-grandmother which you see on the wall there. All these I have a
liking for, and when I speak of the poems I like best there are two
others that ought to be included--'The Silent Melody' and 'The Last
Leaf.' I think these are among my best."

"What is the history of 'The Chambered Nautilus'?" Edward asked.

"It has none," came the reply, "it wrote itself. So, too, did 'The
One-Hoss Shay.' That was one of t