that he might stay with his wards. He would not have taken the Secretaryship of War when President Roosevelt offered it to him had he not been assured that he would still have the Filippines under his especial care. He accepted the Cabinet position in 1903, and has been out to see "his people" twice since then. Last year's journey was especially to fulfill the promise he had made that he would return to open their first National Assembly-their first formal step in becoming Americans. Such is the brief outline of the man who today is as adequate an illustration of Americanism as can be found among our citizens; a man whose continuous advancement must be most gratifying to himself as assuredly it should be to each and every one of his countrymen throughout this land. CHAPTER II Ο F course I knew much about Secretary did. I knew, anyway, what I have recounted in the preceding chapter, but I must acknowledge that my first personal impression of the man, when I met him in Minneapolis, was that he was a curiosity. Not from his size at all, nor from his greatness in other ways, nor from his buoyant Americanism, but because he was the first public man I had ever encountered, or even heard of, who cared little for personal advertisement. I had trailed the War Secretary to the Northwest, where he had gone on an inspection tour. I wished to accompany him. I was explaining that the eastern papers were keenly interested in what he did and what he said, when he broke in with:---- "I'll take your word for it, and believe it is all as you say, but, to be quite frank, I'd rather you would not come along." I had had experiences so different with other men prominently in the public eye, that these words of the Secretary astonished me greatly--I might almost say amazed me and, of course, I was interested. I felt that I must study this new specimen " of statesman. That night I saw him at the great banquet in Minneapolis, easily distinguishable by his amplitude. It was pleasant to note that his appetite was good, and that water was a beverage he was fond of. When the eating was over, the speeches began. The Secretary arose and smiled, then those near him also smiled. He smiled more, and in a minute, I dare say, there was not one of the five thousand faces which were turned eagerly toward him that had not broadened into a welcoming grin. Mr. Taft's speech was not political. He merely told what "we Americans' were There was no gesturing-almost none-his hands clasped across his ample stomach, or on his hips, or in his pockets, or reposing against his midriff doing, first in the Filippines, and then in Panama and in Cuba and Porto Rico. There was no gesturing almost none-for most of the time his hands were on his hips or in his pockets or reposing against his midriff. Sometimes he leaned a little forward to be emphatic. There was no spread-eagle oratory at all. No attempt at elocution. All was simple, straightforward, genial, kindly. Manifestly, the Secretary had established a bond of comradeship in the very beginning, and this bond held. Early the following morning the Secretary crossed the river to St. Paul with Senator Clapp and President Locke of the Commercial Club and joined General J. Franklin Bell, to review the troops at Fort Snelling. Mr. Taft was very thorough with his review. It was not mere formality with him by any means. He inspected everything down to the pack train with great care. When the review was over he climbed into a motor-car, and -though it was a piping hot day-put on an overcoat. Turning up the collar, he gave the word to start. "One moment, please," said the camera man. "All right," answered the Secretary, "but please be quick," and turning toward the camera, he tried to smile. It was the ghast |