the assembled crew, and at its close one of the petty officers, the very picture of what a man-of-war’s-man should look like, proposed three cheers for me in terms that struck me as curiously illustrative of America at her best; he said, “Now then, men, three cheers for Theodore Roosevelt, the typical American citizen!” That was the way in which they thought of the American President—­and a very good way, too.  It was an expression that would have come naturally only to men in whom the American principles of government and life were ingrained, just as they were ingrained in the men of my regiment.  I need scarcely add, but I will add for the benefit of those who do not know, that this attitude of self-respecting identification of interest and purpose is not only compatible with but can only exist when there is fine and real discipline, as thorough and genuine as the discipline that has always obtained in the most formidable fighting fleets and armies.  The discipline and the mutual respect are complementary, not antagonistic.  During the Presidency all of us, but especially the children, became close friends with many of the sailor men.  The four bearers of the vase to Mrs. Roosevelt were promptly hailed as delightful big brothers by our two smallest boys, who at once took them to see the sights of Washington in the landau—­“the President’s land-ho!” as, with seafaring humor, our guests immediately styled it.  Once, after we were in private life again, Mrs. Roosevelt was in a railway station and had some difficulty with her ticket.  A fine-looking, quiet man stepped up and asked if he could be of help; he remarked that he had been one of the Mayflower’s crew, and knew us well; and in answer to a question explained that he had left the navy in order to study dentistry, and added—­a delicious touch—­that while thus preparing himself to be a dentist he was earning the necessary money to go on with his studies by practicing the profession of a prize-fighter, being a good man in the ring.

There are various bronzes in the house:  Saint-Gaudens’s “Puritan,” a token from my staff officers when I was Governor; Proctor’s cougar, the gift of the Tennis Cabinet—­who also gave us a beautiful silver bowl, which is always lovingly pronounced to rhyme with “owl” because that was the pronunciation used at the time of the giving by the valued friend who acted as spokesman for his fellow-members, and who was himself the only non-American member of the said Cabinet.  There is a horseman by Macmonnies, and a big bronze vase by Kemys, an adaptation or development of the pottery vases of the Southwestern Indians.  Mixed with all of these are gifts from varied sources, ranging from a brazen Buddha sent me by the Dalai Lama and a wonderful psalter from the Emperor Menelik to a priceless ancient Samurai sword, coming from Japan in remembrance of the peace of Portsmouth, and a beautifully inlaid miniature suit of Japanese armor, given me by a favorite hero of mine, Admiral Togo,