on Buchanan, John suddenly exclaimed:

"A man who's dead and don't know it!"

Only for a moment did the actual President hold the eye. The man of the
hour loomed large at the head of the procession and instantly fixed the
attention of every man and woman within the range of vision. His giant
figure seemed to tower more than a foot above his surroundings.
Everything about him was large--an immense head, crowned with thick
shock of coarse black hair, his strong jaws rimmed with bristling new
whiskers, long arms and longer legs, large hands, big features, every
movement quick and powerful. The first impression was one of enormous
strength. He looked every inch the stalwart backwoods athlete, capable
of all the feats of physical strength campaign stories had credited to
his record. One glance at his magnificent frame and no one doubted the
boast of his admirers that he could lift a thousand pounds, five hundred
in each hand, or bend an iron poker by striking it across the muscle of
his arm.

As he reached the speaker's stand beneath the crowded canopy, there was
an instant's awkward pause. In his new immaculate dress suit with black
satin vest, shining silk hat and gold-headed cane, he seemed a little
ill at ease. He looked in vain for a place to put his hat and cane and
finally found a corner of the railing against which to lean the stick,
but there seemed no place left for his new hat. Senator Stephen A.
Douglas, his defeated Northern opponent for the Presidency, with a
friendly smile, took it from his hands.

As Douglas slipped gracefully back to his seat, he whispered to the lady
beside him:

"If I can't be President, at least I can hold his hat!"

The simple, but significant, act of courtesy from the great leader of
the Northern Democracy was not lost on the new Chief Magistrate. He
could hardly believe what his eyes had seen at first, and then he
smiled. Instantly the rugged features were transformed and his whole
being was lighted with a strange soft radiance whose warmth was
contagious.

Betty's eyes were dancing with excitement.

"He's not ugly at all!" she whispered.

Ned softly laughed:

"He certainly is not a beauty?"

"Who expects beauty in a real man?" she answered, with a touch of scorn.
And Ned shot a look of inquiry at John's handsome face. But the older
brother was too intent on the drama before him to notice. The editor's
eyes were riveted on the new President, studying every detail of his