On one occasion I was holding a conversation with one of the leaders in Congress, Uncle Pete Hepburn, about the Railroad Rate Bill.

The children were strictly trained not to interrupt business, but on this particular occasion the little boy's feelings overcame him.

He had been loaned a king-snake, which, as all nature-lovers know, is not only a useful but a beautiful snake, very friendly to human beings; and he came rushing home to show the treasure.

He was holding it inside his coat, and it contrived to wiggle partly down the sleeve.

Uncle Pete Hepburn naturally did not understand the full import of what the little boy was saying to me as he endeavored to wriggle out of his jacket, and kindly started to help him--and then jumped back with alacrity as the small boy and the snake both popped out of the jacket.
There could be no healthier and pleasanter place in which to bring up children than in that nook of old-time America around Sagamore Hill.
Certainly I never knew small people to have a better time or a better training for their work in after life than the three families of cousins at Sagamore Hill.