ve short count, he had no pity; but for the
stricken or the fallen, his heart and his purse were always open. He
gloried in work and could not understand why others should not get their
enjoyment out of it also.

He kept farmers' hours throughout his life, going to bed at nine o'clock
and getting up at five. He prized sleep--God's great gift of sleep--and
used to quote Sancho Panza, "God bless the man who first invented
sleep."

Yet he slept only that he might arise and work. To be well and healthy
and strong and joyous was to him not only a privilege but a duty. If he
used tobacco it was never during business hours. For strong drink he had
an abhorrence, simply because he thought it useless, save possibly as a
medicine, and he believed that no man would need medicine if he lived
rightly.

Philip Armour foresaw the possibilities of the West and the Northwest,
and in company with Alexander Mitchell, "Diamond Joe" Reynolds, Fred
Layton, John Plankinton and others, took great personal pride in the
upbuilding of the country. He was possessed of an active imagination. In
a bigger, broader sense he was a dreamer. In his every action and
thought he was a doer. He was very fond of children and would drop
almost any work he had in hand to talk for a few minutes with a small
boy or girl. He kept a stock of small Swiss watches in his desk to
present to his junior callers. His great hobby was presenting his men
with a suit of clothes should they suggest anything out of the ordinary
or do anything which attracted his commendation. Nearly all of those
close to him were presented with gold watches.

It was in the late Seventies. Mr. Armour, with officials, was inspecting
the Saint Paul Railway. A rumor was circulated that Armour and Company
was in financial trouble, and Mr. Armour was so advised. His return was
so prompt that it was suggested that he must have come down over the
wire. He was very much incensed, and his first query was as to who had
started the rumor.

The president of a Chicago bank had loaned Armour and Company one
hundred thousand dollars, note due in ninety days. For some reason known
only to himself, he had made a demand on the cashier for the payment of
this note some sixty days before it was due, and very naturally, in the
absence of Mr. Armour, did not get his money.

Everett Wilson at that time was a member of the Ogden Boat Club, and was
quite friendly with a son of the president of the bank above refe