“No guests were ever more welcome at the White House than these old friends of the cattle ranches and the cow camps—­the men with whom I had ridden the long circle and eaten at the tail-board of a chuck-wagon—­whenever they turned up at Washington during my Presidency.  I remember one of them who appeared at Washington one day just before lunch, a huge powerful man, who, when I knew him, had been distinctly a fighting character.  It happened that on that day another old friend, the British Ambassador, Mr. Bryce, was among those coming to lunch.  Just before we went in I turned to my cow-puncher friend and said to him with great solemnity, ’Remember, Jim, that if you shot at the feet of the British Ambassador to make him dance, it would be likely to cause international complications’; to which Jim responded with unaffected horror, ’Why, Colonel, I shouldn’t think of it!  I shouldn’t think of it!’” [Footnote:  “Autobiography,” p. 132.]

And here is one about his children: 

“The small boy was convalescing, and was engaged in playing on the floor with some tin ships, together with two or three pasteboard monitors and rams of my own manufacture.  He was giving a vivid rendering of Farragut at Mobile Bay, from memories of how I had told the story.  My pasteboard rams were fascinating—­if a naval architect may be allowed to praise his own work—­and as property they were equally divided between the little girl and the small boy.  The little girl looked on with alert suspicion from the bed, for she was not yet convalescent enough to be allowed down on the floor.  The small boy was busily reciting the phases of the fight, which now approached its climax, and the little girl evidently suspected that her monitor was destined to play the part of victim.

“Little boy.  ‘And then they steamed bang into the monitor.’

“Little girl.  ‘Brother, don’t you sink my monitor!’

“Little boy (without heeding and hurrying toward the climax).  ’And the torpedo went at the monitor!’

“Little girl.  ‘My monitor is not to sink!’

“Little boy, dramatically; ‘And bang the monitor sank!’

“Little girl.  ’It didn’t do any such thing.  My monitor always goes to bed at seven, and it’s now quarter past.  My monitor was in bed and couldn’t sink!’” [Footnote:  “Autobiography,” p. 367.]

CHAPTER XVI

THE GREAT AMERICAN

Death closes all; but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done. ...  Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’ We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,—­One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.

Tennyson’s Ulysses.