now. They say too that the whole expression of my
countenance had changed. I told them my story; they did not believe it. I
now tell it to you; and I can scarcely expect you to put more faith in it
than did the merry fishermen of Lofoden."

FAVORITE POEMS

OF

ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

However practical a man may be--however deeply he may be engrossed in
pursuits that would seem to be almost as barren of poetry as a city
pavement is of verdure--there is some chord in his heart that the right
poet may strike and fill his soul with melody. There is scarcely a man in
any walk of life who has not at some time in his life come upon a poem
which seemed to voice his own ideals.

In the private office of President Roosevelt, in the White House, hangs,
in the handwriting of its author, a poem by the late Senator John J.
Ingalls, of Kansas. The title of the poem is "Opportunity." This framed
manuscript and a portrait of President Lincoln are the only objects on the
walls of the apartment.

In singular contrast with the favorite poem of Theodore Roosevelt is that
of Abraham Lincoln--"Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud?" by
William Knox. Lincoln cut the poem from a newspaper and committed it to
memory. Several years later he said to a friend: "I would give a great
deal to know who wrote it, but I have never been able to ascertain."
Subsequently he learned that the author was Knox, a Scottish poet, who
died in 1825.

OPPORTUNITY.

By the late Senator John J. Ingalls.

Master of human destinies am I!
Fame, love and fortune on my footsteps wait,
Cities and fields I walk: I penetrate
Deserts and seas remote, and passing by
Hovel and mart and palace, soon or late
I knock unbidden, once, at every gate!
If feasting, rise; if sleeping, wake before
I turn away. It is the hour of fate,
And they who follow me reach every state
Mortals desire, and conquer every foe
Save death. But those who doubt or hesitate,
Condemned to failure, penury and woe,
Seek me in vain and ceaselessly implore;
I answer not, and I return--no more.

Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud?

BY WILLIAM KNOX.

Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
Man passes from life to his rest in the grave.

The leaves of t