na."

"I slipped out late to hear the shouting and singing and see the crowds,
Uncle Jim. I haven't been in bed more than three or four hours. The city
was so much awake that I had to stay awake, too."

"Well, don't you do it again. Always get your sleep, especially when you
are on foreign travel. It's as hard work as political campaigning in the
states, and that, Jackie, my boy, is no soft snap, as I ought to know,
having done it more than thirty years."

Senator James Pomeroy, a western man, was something past sixty, of
medium height, portly, partly bald, but heavy of mustache and with a
short pointed beard. His eyes were gray, his face full, and he was of
great physical strength. He was self-made and the job was no discredit
to him. His nature was simple and open. America was the finest country,
had the finest government and the finest people on earth, and the state
of which he was the senior Senator was the choicest flower of the
flowery flock.

"There was enough to keep a fellow awake," he said, "but I always sleep
well. You must learn to do it, if you expect to achieve a success of
life. When I was making my first campaign for the Lower House of our
state, and I was barely old enough to be eligible, I lay awake and
fretted over the votes that might be lacking to me when election came. I
at last said to myself: 'Don't do it! Don't do it!' You may roll and you
may tumble, but it won't win you a single vote. It's the smooth work
you've done before that brings 'em in. Now, hustle on your clothes,
Jackie, lad, and we'll have breakfast, not one of these thin continental
affairs, but a real breakfast, if I have to go in the kitchen myself and
seize it."

"What about this war, Uncle Jim?"

"A small affair, soon over. We came very near having one, too, with
Mexico, but luckily we've got a president who doesn't play to the
gallery, and he sat hard on the war-maniacs. I think I was of some
little assistance to him myself in that crisis. But, my boy, Europe is
the pet home of war scares. They're always coming across the Atlantic by
mail and wire. 'War clouds in the Balkans!' 'Eastern question sets
Europe by the ears!' 'France plots to get back Alsace-Lorraine and
Germany arms!' 'German Kaiser warns Austrian Kaiser against Triple
Entente!' Bang! Boom! everybody going to war in the next five
minutes--but they don't. You'll find 'em all a half hour later in the
cafes, eating and drinking. Europe can't fight, because there