I see vividly, too, as I write, the full figure, the ruddy, kindly face, the large nose, the gray eyes, the thick halo of silvered hair extending from his collar to the bald top of his head.

He rose and said in a deep voice: "He sows ill luck who hinders the reaper." Mr.Wright hung his sickle on a small tree in the dooryard and answered.
"The plowman has overtaken the reaper, Mr.President.I bid you welcome to my humble home." "It is a pleasure to be here and a regret to call you back to Washington," said the President as they shook hands.
"I suppose that means an extra session," the Senator answered.
"First let me reassure you.

I shall get away as soon as possible, for I know that a President is a heavy burden for one to have on his hands." "Don't worry.

I can get along with almost any kind of a human being, especially if he likes pudding and milk as well as you do," said the Senator, who then introduced me in these words: "Mr.President, this is my young friend Barton Baynes of the neighborhood of Lickitysplit in the town of Ballybeen--a coming man of this county." "Come on," was the playful remark of the President as he took my hand.
"I shall be looking for you." I had carefully chosen my words and I remember saying, with some dignity, like one in a story book, although with a trembling voice: "It is an honor to meet you, sir, and thank you for the right to vote--when I am old enough." Vividly, too, I remember his gentle smile as he looked down at me and said in a most kindly tone: "I think it a great honor to hear you say that." He put his hands upon my shoulders and turning to the Senator said: "Wright, I often wish that I had your modesty." "I need it much more than you do," the Senator laughed.
Straightway I left them with an awkward bow and blushing to the roots of my hair.

A number of boys and girls stood under the shade trees opposite looking across at the President.