reached, the amateur coachman drove away to the stable.

Only homely little incidents, these two, but prophetic of the exceptionally developed sense of humor which the man Theodore Roosevelt manifested. Every man flatters himself that he has a "sense of humor." And most men have. The others we pass over in silent pity. The mature Roosevelt had the humor sense in abundant measure. Indeed, it protected him, on countless occasions, from the deeper pains of disappointment, anxiety, and futile wrath. As he stood, a champion of truth and righteousness, before the world through many years, he did not wear the full armor described by the Apostle to the Gentiles helmet, breastplate, and all the other pieces - but he bore a keen sword in his strong right hand and a polished shield upon his left arm. The sword was his own intrepid, combat-loving spirit, and the shield was his unfailing sense of humor, which "quenched the darts of many an adversary."

CHAPTER II

BULBS AND BLOSSOMS

A few months ago I went down into my cellar and groped about there, in a dim light, gathering several kinds of bulbs. These I planted in a sunny spot of my garden. And I saw them, in due time, push up into stems and stalks, and later flower out in flaming colors.

That dim cellar, with its undeveloped yet vital bulbs, may serve as an illustration of Roosevelt's life, during the period of his childhood and early boyhood, as it appears to me, from my present viewpoint. It is dim, and our knowledge of its contents is derived largely from Roosevelt's own memories. There are few persons living to-day who can add much to what he recollected. When he came to Harvard, he came out into the light. He began, in 1876, that group-life which was to continue, enlarging continuously, through his entire career. Many of his college classmates are living to-day and can build up a considerable body of information about him from their recollections. The interesting objective which I set before

myself at this point is to bring up out of that dim early period, like bulbs from their shadowy seclusion, the germs of those qualities in him which later flowered forth in luxuriance, before the eyes of the world. And I feel inclined, at this stage, to recur to those two striking qualities to which my first chapter adverted, the quality of humor, or mirthfulness, and the quality of combativeness, typified by a shield and a sword.

Roosevelt's sense of humor has more psychological value to the analyst than might casually be supposed. It shows plainly, even in his own autobiographical narration of certain incidents in his boyhood. For example, there is delightful humor in his reference to his zealous efforts in the field of taxidermy. "Doubtless the family had their moments of anxiety and suffering - especially when a well-meaning maid extracted from my taxidermist's outfit the old toothbrush with which I had put on the skins the arsenical soap necessary for their preservation, partially washed it, and then put it back with the rest of my wash-kit, for my personal use."

Again, during his first journey abroad, he spen. a summer in a German family in Dresden. As in his American home, he was active in his "nature studies." And he records that, "Whenever I could get out into the country, I collected specimens in

dustriously, and enlivened the household with hedgehogs and other small beasts and reptiles which persisted in escaping from partially closed bureau drawers."

During his stay at Dobbs Ferry, he became the possessor of a "breech-loading pin-fire doublebarreled gun." "It was an excellent gun for a clumsy and often absent-minded boy," he says. "There was a spring to open it; and, if the mechanism became rusty, it could be opened with a brick without serious damage. When the cartridges stuck they could be removed in the same fashion.'

We may be sure that when he wrote that, forty years afterwards, his face wore that same fascinating smile which became famous the world over. And, apropos of that smile, it may be told that he was never seen to laugh more delightedly than when, during a poltical campaign, he read the "story" of a reporter who described him, when he pressed his way to the platform, as "biting his way through the crowd."

Again I recur to the closing words of the previous chapter and to the sword in his hand, symbol of the valor of his spirit. That actual love of righteous combat, mental or physical, was one of his greatest assets as a reformer and a public official. That characteristic has been noted by thousands, and it was pointed out by Mr. Taft in his

noble, tender eulogy of Roosevelt, after the latter's death. And a letter which has come to me, as I write, from a classmate, contains this statement: "I met Roosevelt in New York one day, just after he had been appointed to be Assistant Secretary of the Navy. I congratulated him, and suggested that he would now live a quiet, pleasanter life than had been his as Police Commissioner. But he replied, shaking his head doubtfully, 'I don't know about that. I like a fight. I do like a fight.' And he did. But let it be noted that he liked it only when it was rooted in a righteous motive.

That aggressive quality in Roosevelt first comes to light in the fist-fight which he, as a boy, precipitated with two traveling companions of his own age. He was on his way to Moosehead Lake, in Maine, sent there with the parental hope that its outdoor life would strengthen him and help him throw off the asthma by which he was beset and tortured through several of his earlier years. Not only was he asthmatic, but he was frail and physically below the average of boys of his age. But in spirit he was unsurpassed. And when his youthful fellow travelers made fun of him, he attacked them. "But either of them, singly, could handle me with easy contempt," he records.

This discomforting experience was a turning point in his life. He faced the fact of his inferiority