he big open field between the White House grounds
and the river.

The first inventor in line carried the model of a new rifle which would
shoot sixteen times. The army officers believed in the idea of a single
shell breech loader on account of the simplicity of its mechanism. Our
muskets were still muzzle loaders and the men were compelled to use
ramrods to load.

The President examined the new gun with keen interest, pulled his black,
shaggy beard thoughtfully, looked at the breathless inventor, and slowly
mused:

"Well, now as the fat girl said when she pulled on her stocking, it
strikes me there's something in it!"

The inventor laughed with nervous joy, and watched him write a card of
endorsement:

"Take that to the War Department, and tell them I like your idea--I want
them to look into it."

His face wreathed in smiles, the man pushed his way through the crowd,
and hurried to the War Department.

The next one was a little fellow who had a gun of marvellous model,
double-barrelled, with the barrels crossed. The President adjusted his
spectacles and took a second look before he made any comment. He lifted
his bristling eyebrows:

"What's it for?"

"For cross-eyed men, sir!" he whispered.

"You don't say?" he roared.

"Yes, sir," the little man continued eagerly. "The cross-eyed men ain't
never had no chance in this war. They turn 'em all down. They won't take
'em as soldiers. That gun'll fix 'em. Push a regiment o' good cross-eyed
men to the front with that gun a-pourin' hot lead from two barrels at
the same time an' every man er cross firin' at the enemy an' we'll jist
natchally make hash outen 'em, sir----"

"And we may need the cross-eyed men, too, before the war ends." The
sombre eyes twinkled thoughtfully. "Thank you, my friend, when I draft
the cross-eyed men come in again and we'll talk it over. Your heart's
in the right place, anyhow."

He glanced doubtfully at the little skillet-shaped head and reached over
his shoulder for the next one. It was a bullet proof shirt for
soldiers--a coat of mail which weighed fifty pounds.

"How long do you think a man could march with that thing on and the
thermometer at ninety-eight in the shade?"

He handed it back with a shake of his head and grasped the next one--a
model water-tight canoe to fit the foot like a snow shoe.

"What's the idea?" he asked.

"Shoe the army with _my_ canoes, sir, and they can all walk on
water----"

"And yet they say t