, not quite that. We have all known
people who made a specialty of omniscience. If a man can speak two
languages besides his own and can read two more fairly well, he is at
once credited with knowing half a dozen foreign tongues as well as he
knows English. Let us agree, however, that Roosevelt knew a lot about a
lot of things. He was a rapid and omnivorous reader, reading a book with
his finger tips, gutting it of its contents, as he did the birds that he
shot, stuffed, and mounted; yet not inappreciative of form, and
accustomed to recommend much good literature to his countrymen. He took
an eager interest in a large variety of subjects, from Celtic poetry and
the fauna and flora of many regions to simplified spelling and the split
infinitive.

A young friend of mine was bringing out, for the use of schools and
colleges, a volume of selections from the English poets, all learnedly
annotated, and sent me his manuscript to look over. On a passage about
the bittern bird he had made this note, "The bittern has a harsh,
throaty cry." Whereupon I addressed him thus: "Throaty nothing! You are
guessing, man. If Teddy Roosevelt reads your book--and he reads
everything--he will denounce you as a nature faker and put you down for
membership in the Ananias Club. Recall what he did to Ernest
Seton-Thompson and to that minister in Stamford, Connecticut. Remember
how he crossed swords with Mr. Scully touching the alleged dangerous
nature of the ostrich and the early domestication of the peacock. So far
as I know, the bittern thing has no voice at all. His real stunt is as
follows. He puts his beak down into the swamp, in search of insects and
snails or other marine life--_est-ce que je sais?_--and drawing in the
bog-water through holes in his beak, makes a booming sound which is most
impressive. Now do not think me an ornithologist or a bird sharp.
Personally I do not know a bittern from an olive-backed thrush. But I
have read some poetry, and I remember what Thomson says in 'The
Seasons':

The bittern knows his time with bill ingulf'd
To shake the sounding marsh.

See also 'The Lady of the Lake':

And the bittern sound his drum,
Booming from the sedgy shallow.

See even old Chaucer who knew a thing or two about birds, _teste_ his
'Parlament of Foules,' admirably but strangely edited by Lounsbury,
whose indifference to art was only surpassed by his hostility to nature.
Says Chaucer:

And as