is by no means crowded out of the life of the President when he is there. On the contrary he has the versatility to carry on his public duties without interfering with the pleasures of his vacation. He chops trees, pitches hay, rides and walks, plays tennis, and romps with his children in a spirit free from the cares of office. He and Mrs. Roosevelt find time to keep up the best relations with their neighbors. The President's wife joins the sewing circle of her church, and, on one occasion when the women were working for the crippled children in a Brooklyn institution, she made half a dozen night-gowns for the little unfortunates. She visits the sick and the unhappy of the town, not with the condescension of a great lady, but as a sympathetic friend.

The President, here as everywhere, is a keen observer of nature. He and his boys eagerly welcome any of the field folk who venture to visit Sagamore Hill, always, of course, provided that they come with no evil design on the poultry. A mink was treated as a friend until some chicken feathers were found too near his lair. The entire place is a favorite resort for many kinds of birds. There are sharptailed finches in the marsh, there are wood-thrushes

which nest around the house; Baltimore orioles hang their nests in an elm near the porch; robins, cat-birds, valiant king-birds, song-sparrows, chippies, bright-colored thistle-finches, make their home near by; swallows build in the chimneys; hummingbirds flit among the honeysuckles and trumpetflowers; there are wrens in the shrubbery, and in the orchard there are woodpeckers, while thrushes and Maryland yellowthroats are in the hedges, brush sparrows and prairie-warblers in the cedars. Chickadees are everywhere and jays chatter in the tall timber. The cedar-birds prey upon the cherries with impunity, because, as the President says, they are "quiet and pretty and so well-bred." Moral suasion was used on a flicker who began to dig a hole in a corner of the house, but he would not desist, and his doom was reluctantly decreed. Most people do not like the screech-owl, but President Roosevelt is not among them. He contends, indeed, that it does not screech at all, and that he likes to hear its tremulous, quavering cry, as it sits on the elk antlers over the gable of Sagamore Hill.

THE PRESIDENT AND HIS CHILDREN

Prouder to be the father of six than the head of a nation. His tribute to the athletic accomplishments of his elder daughter, for he likes little girls to be tomboys. — Himself a good deal of a boy, he is happiest to be a comrade in the ranks with his sons. They play and read, tramp and ride together. Swarms of strange pets at Oyster Bay, ranging from a badger to a zebra. Kangaroo-rats and flying-squirrels in the boys' pockets and blouses. Big names for little guinea-pigs. - Archie's Icelandic pony rides in the White House elevator. - The President and his boys camping out.

"WHAT we have a right to expect of the American boy is that he shall turn out to be a good American man. Now the chances are that he won't be much of a man unless he is a good deal of a boy. He must not be a coward or a weakling, a bully, a shirk, or a prig. He must work hard and play hard. He must be clean-minded and clean-lived, and able to hold his own under all circumstances and against all comers. It is only on these conditions that he will grow into the kind of man of whom America can really be proud. In life, as in a football game, the