"And still his jumps increased in size, Until they got so great, He landed on the railway ties In some far distant state; And then he knew 'twould have been wise, His jumping to abate. "But as the years passed slowly by, His jumping still went on, Until he leaped from Italy, As far as Washington. And he confessed, with heavy eye, It wasn't any fun. "And when, in 1883, I met him up in Perth, He wept and said 'good-by' to me, And jumped around the earth. And I was saddened much to see That he knew naught of mirth. "Last year in far Allahabad, Late in the month of June, I met again this jumping lad-- 'Twas in the afternoon-- As he with visage pale and sad Was jumping to the moon. "So all his days, leap after leap, He takes from morn to night. He cannot eat, he cannot sleep, But flies just like a kite, And all because he would not keep From jumping when he might. "And I believe the moral's true-- Though shown with little skill-- That whatsoever you may do, Be it of good or ill, Once in a while it may pay you To practice keeping still." A long silence followed the completion of the blurred picture's poem. For some reason or other it had made Jimmieboy think, and while he was thinking, wonderful to say, he was keeping very quiet, so that it was quite evident that the fate of Jumping Sam had had some effect upon him. Finally, however, the spell was broken, and he began to wiggle just as he wiggled while his picture was being taken, and then he said: "I don't know whether to believe that story or not. I can't see your face very plainly here. Come over into the light and tell me the poem all over again, and I can tell by looking in your eye whether it is true or not." The picture made no reply, and Jimmieboy, grasping it firmly in his hand, went to the window and gazed steadily at it for a minute, but it was useless. The picture not only refused to speak, but, as the rays of the setting sun fell full upon it, faded slowly from sight. Nevertheless, true story or not, Jimmieboy has practiced standing still very often since the affair happened, which is a good thing for little boys to do, so that perhaps the brief life and long poem of the rejected picture were not wasted after all. XI. JIMMIEBOY AND THE BLANK-BOOK. [Illustration: "OH! DEAR!"] Somebody had sighed deeply, and had said, "Oh dear!"