In the English royal library at Windsor, in the centre of the magazine table, there is a large album of pictures of many eminent and popular men and women of the day. This book is divided into sections—a section for each calling or profession. Some years ago Prince Edward, in looking through the book, came across the pages devoted to the pictures of the rulers of the various nations. Prominently placed among these was a large photograph of Colonel Roosevelt.
“Father,” asked Prince Edward, placing his finger on the Colonel’s picture, “Mr. Roosevelt is a very clever man, isn’t he?”
“Yes, child,” answered King George with a smile. “He is a great and good man. In some respects I look upon him as a genius.”
A few days later, King George, casually glancing through the album, noticed that President Roosevelt’s photograph had been removed and placed in the section devoted to “Men and Women of the Time.” On asking the Prince whether he had removed the picture, the latter solemnly replied: “Yes, sir. You told me the other day that you thought Mr. Roosevelt a genius, so I took him away from the kings and emperors and put him among the famous people.”
When the question of America’s being prepared for war was uppermost Representative Thomas Heflin, of Alabama, told the following story to illustrate his belief that we ought always to be ready:
“There was an old fellow down in north Alabama and out in the mountains; he kept his jug in the hole of a log. He would go down at sundown to take a swig of mountain dew—mountain dew that had never been humiliated by a revenue officer nor insulted by a green stamp. He drank that liquid concoction that came fresh from the heart of the corn, and he glowed. One evening while he was letting the good liquor trickle down his throat he felt something touch his foot. He looked down and saw a big rattle-snake coiled ready to strike.
“The old fellow took another swig of the corn, and in defiance he swept that snake with his eyes.
“‘Strike, dern you, strike, you will never find me better prepared.’”
The father of a certain charming girl is well known in this town as “a very tight old gentleman.” When dad recently received a young man, who for some time had been “paying attention” to the daughter, it was the old gentleman who made the first observation:
“Huh! So you want to marry my daughter, eh?”
“Yes, sir; very much, indeed.”
“Um—let me see. Can you support her in the style to which she has been accustomed?”
“I can, sir,” said the young man, “but I am not mean enough to do it.”