From the Rock Island Argus, June 2, 1913. By S. E. Kiser. “Just to be a child again,” sighed the millionaire, “Knowing not what woe exists, free from every care; Just to be a child again, filled with boyish glee, Free from all the ills I bear and from sorrows free.” ‘Round the corner lay a boy, fretting in his bed. “Gee, I wisht I was a man,” dismally he said. “Every season seems to bring some disease, somehow. Had the scarlet fever last - got the measles now. “Yes, I’ve had the chicken-pox and the jaundice, too; ‘Spose I’ll have the mumps the next - always something new; When you’re sick there ain’t no fun, ‘cause you feel so bad; When you’re well you go to school - gee, but life is sad!” “Just to be a boy,” the man murmured with a sigh, “Free to frolic as I pleased, all things yet to try; Ah, how small men’s triumphs are, what a price we pay For the little that we get as we scheme away.”