indeed, having his own definite duties to perform. I was requested to have a look at the squirrel myself, which was achieved by craning forward in my chair. One of Rob Roy's tasks was to keep all of the squirrels up in the trees, so that they could not come down and bite the sheep. Yes indeed, he is a great sheep dog. Again Rob was urged to his duties. Another capacity in which he serves is to chase all of the automobiles around the borders of the lawn to see that they do not jump over the fence. A guest at the White House told me a bit more about Rob Roy. In the country where he formerly lived less imaginary tasks devolved upon him, and when daylight-saving was introduced, two days sufficed for the dog to adjust himself to it, in his daily duty of bringing home the cows. On one occasion he brought them in for milking and one was missing. Of his own accord he went out and found the lost one. The President's fondness for animals is very great, I was told. Another picture of the President in playful mood was given me by one who had overheard him talking to Angelo, a Filipino servant on the Mayflower. Angelo was asked if he knew about Little Jack Horner. Admitting his ignorance of that important person, he was regaled most seriously with the justly famed account of him in rhyme. He was then questioned as to his familiarity with Simple Simon, and was forced for a second time to confess the limitations of his knowledge. His distinguished master essayed again to inform him, starting the jingle with slow solemnity that was emphasized by the process of shaving, but after a line or two his memory refused to function further. Calling out for assistance to Mrs. Coolidge, whom he addressed as "Mammie," he asked her to recall to him what it was that Simple Simon did. At the conclusion of my sittings I was told that Mrs. Coolidge wanted to see the result of my efforts. The man who brought the message I had known casually at the White House since Wilson's administration, and I remarked to him as he led me to a room near by: "Here is where the trouble begins. No artist can see a man with his wife's eyes." I repeated this remark to the smiling and attractive woman who awaited me, bringing from her a merry laugh. My pessimistic prophecy was doomed to pleasant disappointment, as the likeness in my drawing of her husband pleased my critic sufficiently to win warm approval. Playing the part of a ready opportunist, I argued that a sketch of her should accompany the one of the President. The exercise of considerable persuasion made my point, and again I found kindly consideration in view of the necessity of my early return to New York. Halfpast two in the afternoon found me again at the White House, and shortly thereafter the new sketch was begun. My animated and colorful sitter afforded a problem that I hated to approach in haste. I yearned for paint and canvas and plenty of time. The lively range of facial expression provided endless material for study, the brilliant black hair and eyebrows had a cameo-like definition that would dictate a linear emphasis in a portrait of her in any medium. The same was true of the black lashes contrasting with the dark hazel of her eyes; the During several of the conferences that occurred in my presence Mr. Coolidge's utterances were tinged at times with a satire so subtle, an irony so delicate, that I am convinced that, in several instances, his hearers were not fully aware of its existence. That there was no intention of giving pain was evident in his patience with one case in particular. The plea to which he was giving ear was really not for him, as he pointed out, a special commission being in existence to act upon all business of this nature. Yet he listened sympathetically to the tale, presented at considerable length, and then was at pains to explain why it would be impossible to adopt the point of view of his visitor or to act as he desired. The man then requested that the President receive a full committee of his organization to present the case more fully. Still his patience was equal to the occasion, and, though mentioning again the commission whose business it really was to hear it, agreed to receive the committee. It was only when the afternoon papers revealed that the man had violated all etiquette of the occasion by giving a lengthy interview to the reporters immediately upon leaving the Executive Chamber, quoting the President freely, that patience ceased to be a virtue. Then the evidence of its cessation was calm enough. A few brief sentences gave directions that the man and his committee should in future take their grievances to the authorities provided to hear their complaints. One of the visitors chanced to be the senator from my own district, a man who has made a considerable name for himself since the days when I first knew him as president of a local col lege. I mentioned to my sitter a conversation that I had had with him years ago in which he told me of his political ambitions and of his intention to run for Congress. The President's answering observations were upon the considerable element of chance in political preferment, and revealing a modesty and a sense of values undistorted by fortune, in classing his own career as one that resulted largely from accidents. It was reassuring and delightful to discover the President's gift for mental relaxation. Without this no mind can hope to preserve elasticity. As I entered for one of my sittings a huge collie of pure white was leaping about the room in evident delight at the whimsical remarks that the President was addressing to him. That the beautiful animal accepted his responsibilities as a party to the conversation was evinced by his enthusiastic replies to his master's remarks, the sounds assuming a variety that was quite sufficient to convince an auditor that the dog really had views of his own on the subject under discussion, and was expressing them to the best of his ability. Perhaps we humans who do not understand are the stupid ones. The short interval necessary for the animal's boisterous investigation of me provided space for a short account of this particular collie, a highly trained sheep dog of great intelligence. His curiosity about me being satisfied, he was off again at the President's behest, seeking a squirrel that was visible from the windows. Interspersed between these injunctions to the dog was a whimsical and humorous description of the place of this canine in the daily life of the establishment. He is a most important functionary indeed, having his own definite duties to perform. I was requested to have a look at the squirrel myself, which was achieved by craning forward in my chair. One of Rob Roy's tasks was to keep all of the squirrels up in the trees, so that they could not come down and bite the sheep. Yes indeed, he is a great sheep dog. Again Rob was urged to his duties. Another capacity in which he serves is to chase all of the automobiles around the borders of the lawn to see that they do not jump over the fence. A guest at the White House told me a bit more about Rob Roy. In the country where he formerly lived less imaginary tasks devolved upon him, and when daylight-saving was introduced, two days sufficed for the dog to adjust himself to it, in his daily duty of bringing home the cows. On one occasion he brought them in for milking and one was missing. Of his own accord he went out and found the lost one. The President's fondness for animals is very great, I was told. Another picture of the President in playful mood was given me by one who had overheard him talking to Angelo, a Filipino servant on the Mayflower. Angelo was asked if he knew about Little Jack Horner. Admitting his ignorance of that important person, he was regaled most seriously with the justly famed account of him in rhyme. He was then questioned as to his familiarity with Simple Simon, and was forced for a second time to confess the limitations of his knowledge. His distinguished master essayed again to inform him, starting the jingle with slow solemnity that was emphasized by the process of shaving, but after a line or two his memory refused to function further. Calling out for assistance to Mrs. Coolidge, whom he addressed as "Mammie," he asked her to recall to him what it was that Simple Simon did. At the conclusion of my sittings I was told that Mrs. Coolidge wanted to see the result of my efforts. The man who brought the message I had known casually at the White House since Wilson's administration, and I remarked to him as he led me to a room near by: "Here is where the trouble begins. No artist can see a man with his wife's eyes." I repeated this remark to the smiling and attractive woman who awaited me, bringing from her a merry laugh. My pessimistic prophecy was doomed to pleasant disappointment, as the likeness in my drawing of her husband pleased my critic sufficiently to win warm approval. Playing the part of a ready opportunist, I argued that a sketch of her should accompany the one of the President. The exercise of considerable persuasion made my point, and again I found kindly consideration in view of the necessity of my early return to New York. Halfpast two in the afternoon found me again at the White House, and shortly thereafter the new sketch was begun. My animated and colorful sitter afforded a problem that I hated to approach in haste. I yearned for paint and canvas and plenty of time. The lively range of facial expression provided endless material for study, the brilliant black hair and eyebrows had a cameo-like definition that would dictate a linear emphasis in a portrait of her in any medium. The same was true of the black lashes contrasting with the dark hazel of her eyes; the chin. My sitter looked at the developing sketch, not only giving it his approval, but stating that he possessed a double chin. All portraitists will agree that this is a rare experience, as that feature is undoubtedly the one for which suppression is almost invariably demanded. In like manner my present subject insisted that certain lines be included in the representation of her that most women would gladly have seen glossed over. True, there were none of sufficient importance to make much difference one way or the other, but it was refreshing not to meet the usual aversion to any marks that record the passage of time. The concern of certain of the staff who asked to see the drawing was of a very different nature. No artist could record, however sustained the effort, all of the charms and virtues that they know her to possess. "We are likely to be very particular when Mrs. Coolidge is being drawn," one of them remarked, imparting to me an amused sense of responsibility that spurred me to renewed effort. These are the critics whose words bear weight rather than the ones who write for the papers. My work concluded, I left the White House not only convinced of the exceptional capability of its occupants, but filled with the pleasant sensation that comes of contact with extraordinarily nice people as well. WILLIAM HOWARD TAFT As I sat in a front parlor in the handsome residence of Chief-Justice Taft I was subconsciously aware of a droning of voices in a distant room. My mind was lazily inventorying the place: a Chinese cabinet filled with curios, a variety of furniture and ob jects suggesting gifts that may have come to the former President in his various official capacities, some interesting photographic portraits, a painting by Rubens. A half-formed thought running parallel to my observations was tinged with a bit of wonderment as to why it was that a very young man seemed to be doing most of the talking among the blurred voices that penetrated to me. Why was this youngster almost monopolizing the conversation in what must undoubtedly be distinguished company? The answer came in the only fragment of a sentence in which the words assumed a sudden distinctness. The young man remarked that such and such was the case, at least “during my administration." Thus, in considerable surprise, ended my involuntary eavesdropping. The surprise was not abated when the "young man" emerged. Nearly twelve years had elapsed since the end of his occupancy of the White House, but these years had been very kind to him. There was little apparent change in him to mark the passage of time. A bit thinner, though still of generous proportions, with clear and colorful skin, he seemed as young and vigorous as when he headed the affairs of the nation. His extraordinarily youthful voice at close range was filled with a jovial vitality that revealed not only a joyous and happy disposition, but a complete harmony of physical functioning as well. Before we settled to our task he answered a call on the telephone, and I remarked to him of the fitness and energy that his voice suggested. "That 's curious," he said laughingly; "a similar comment came just at this moment over the wire." entire slender contour of her expressive head revealed harmonious lines that cried against concealment in massed shadows. With all of this before me I hastened to capture what I could in the time that was at my disposal. A piece of fur on the collar of her simple street costume was useful in the composition. On one of the lapels was a shield bearing a jeweled representation of the great seal of the United States. If some critics have found the President a bit unconcerned about the social graces, surely in his wife they can discover enough for the two. Even under the shadow of her recent great sorrow her sunny cordiality and radiating kindness are sufficient to warm the hearts of all with whom she comes in contact. The affection of the White House staff and servants is plainly to be seen in their every action and utterance, and the reason is obvious in her treatment of them. My sitter was preeminently the nice, wholesome American girl, with none of the portentous suggestion that might be conveyed by the title, First Lady of the Land. She can be relied upon to grace that time-honored designation, with no need of depending upon it for glory. She is possessed to an unusual degree of youthful and vivacious charm, combined with a genuineness that is most winning. Add to this a lively sense of humor and a ready smile and laugh, and the warm place that she has won in Washington hearts is to some degree explained. She is well adapted to the position she occupies in many ways, important among them being the fact that she likes people in the mass and individually. Her present life and surroundings she enjoys; she is quite evidently happy in the environment in which she finds herself. In their great menage she and the President might easily live a life of complication that would soon become an unbearable burden, but they have been wise in bringing the simplicity of their former habits with them. Ten o'clock is their usual hour to retire. I recall her amusement at my confession to a sleepy rush across the square from my club for a second early morning sitting. My eyes opened by degrees, while she was as rested and fresh as could be. The spacious apartment where we sat was the upper main hall of the house, with its large western windows overlooking the executive wing, with the State Department beyond. Here again was evident the love of animals that Mrs. Coolidge shares with her husband. While Rob Roy has attached himself particularly to the President, another dog, an Airdale, lays special claim to her. When they are admitted to the house in the morning, each rushes in quest of his favorite. Near us in cages were several songbirds possessed of beautiful voices, and their music was most delightful. Music stands out among the arts in its appeal to Mrs. Coolidge, being one of her greatest sources of pleasure. The making of portraits is an almost certain road to the discovery of any vanity that one's sitters may possess. I found both the President and Mrs. Coolidge remarkably free from any complexes of this kind. This is amusingly illustrated in his case by a criticism that was hazarded at my half-finished drawing that prophesied ill for the approaching likeness, and found further fault in that my drawing suggested the existence of a double |
