his cradle and has never been disturbed throughout the
intervening years of political discussion--sometimes acrimonious. At the
top of the acclivity of his amazing career--in the very plenitude of his
eminence and power--let me tell you that he offered me one of the most
honorable and distinguished appointments within his gift."

"Tell them about that, Marse Henry," said he.

"With your permission, Mr. President, I will," I said, and continued:
"The centenary of the West Point Military Academy was approaching. I was
at dinner with my family at a hotel in Washington when General Corbin
joined us. 'Will you,' he abruptly interjected, 'accept the chairmanship
of the board of visitors to the academy this coming June?'

"'What do you want of me?' I asked.

"'It is the academy's centenary, which we propose to celebrate, and we
want an orator.'

"'General Corbin,' said I, 'you are coming at me in a most enticing way.
I know all about West Point. Here at Washington I grew up with it. I
have been fighting legislative battles for the Army all my life. That
you Yankees should come to a ragged old rebel like me for such a service
is a distinction indeed, and I feel immensely honored. But which page of
the court calendar made you a plural? Whom do you mean by "we"?'

"'Why,' he replied in serio-comic vein, 'the President, the Secretary of
War and Me, myself.'

"I promised him to think it over and give him an answer. Next day I
received a letter from the President, making the formal official tender
and expressing the hope that I would not decline it. Yet how could I
accept it with the work ahead of me? It was certain that if I became
a part of the presidential junket and passed a week in the delightful
company promised me, I would be unfit for the loyal duty I owed my
belongings and my party, and so reluctantly--more reluctantly than I can
tell you--I declined, obliging them to send for Gen. Horace Porter
and bring him over from across the ocean, where he was ably serving as
Ambassador to France. I need not add how well that gifted and versatile
gentleman discharged the distinguished and pleasing duty."

III

The last time I met Theodore Roosevelt was but a little while before his
death. A small party of us, Editor Moore, of Pittsburgh, and Mr. Riggs,
of the New York Central, at his invitation had a jolly midday breakfast,
extending far into the afternoon. I never knew him happier or heartier.
His jocund spirit rarely