She did not let the President know of
this because it would irritate him.

The only flower we saw there which was new to me was the Indian pink.
Roosevelt seemed to know the flowers as well as he did the birds. Pink
moccasin-flowers and the bird's-foot violet were common in that
locality.

On our return trip, Roosevelt's secretary being on the train, Roosevelt
threw himself into the dictation of many letters, the wrens and the
warblers already sidetracked for the business of the Administration.

I passed another night at the White House, and in the morning early we
went out on the White House grounds to look for birds, our quest seeming
to attract the puzzled attention of the passers-by.

"They often stare at me as though they thought me crazy," he said, "when
they see me gazing up into the trees."

"Well, now they will think I am your keeper," I said.

"Yes, and I your nurse," laughed Mrs. Roosevelt.

When I left, Roosevelt gave me a list of the birds that we had seen
while at Pine Knot and hoped that I would sometime write up the trip; in
fact, for years after, whenever we would meet, almost the first thing he
would say was, "Have you written up our Pine Knot trip yet, Oom John?"
And his disappointment at my failure to do so was always
unmistakable.[2]

[2] The following letter may be of interest in this
connection.
C. B.

DEAR OOM JOHN:

Did you ever get the pamphlet on Concealing Coloration? If
not, I will send you another. I do hope that you will
include in your coming volume of sketches a little account
of the time you visited us at Pine Knot, our little
Virginia camp, while I was President. I am very proud of
you, Oom John, and I want the fact that you were my guest
when I was President, and that you and I looked at birds
together, recorded there--and don't forget that I showed
you the blue grosbeak and the Bewick's wren, and almost
all the other birds I said I would!

Ever yours,

THEODORE ROOSEVELT

VIII

A STRENUOUS HOLIDAY

One August a few years ago (1918) I set out with some friends for a two
weeks' automobile trip into the land of Dixie--joy-riders with a
luxurious outfit calculated to be proof against any form of discomfort.

We were headed for the Great Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. I
confess that mountains and men that do not smoke suit me better. Still I
can stand both, and I started out with the hope that the great
Appalachian ra