[Pppehrserver-legal-eu] veins. A look colours

[Riggsby Kastl]

Ons of things for other people to do buzzing like bees about his head,
acquired his tremendous and incredible power with us as a people
because, in spite of his violent way of breaking out into a missionary
every morning and every evening when he talked, it was not his talking
but his singing that made him powerful--his singing, or doing things as
if he believed in people, his I wills and I won'ts, his assuming every
day, his acting every day, as if American men were men. He sang his way
roughly, hoarsely, even a little comically at times into the hearts of
people, stirred up in the nation a mighty heat, put a great crackling
fire under it, put two great parties into the pot, boiled them, drew off
all that was good in them, and at last, to-day, as I write (February
1913), the prospect of a good square meal in the White House (with some
one else to say grace) is before the people. The people are waiting to
sit down once more in the White House and refresh themselves. At least,
the soup course is on the table. Who did it, please? Who bullied the
cook and got everybody ready? Theodore Roosevelt, singing a little
roughly, possibly hurrahing "_I will, I will, I won't, I won't_," and
acting as if he believed in the world. Bryan in the village of Chicago
sitting by at a reporter's table saw him doing it. Bryan saw how it
worked. Bryan had it in him too. Bryan heard the shouts of the people
across the land as they gloried in the fight. He saw the signals from
the nations over the sea. Then Armageddon moved to Baltimore. * * * * *
And now table is about to be spread. It is to be Mr. Wilson's soup. But
the soup will have a Roosevelt flavour or tang to it. And we will wait
to see what Mr. Wilson will do with the other courses. * * * * * A poet
in words, with two or three exceptions, America has not produced. The
only touch of poetry or art as yet that we have in America is--acting as
if we believed in people. This particular art is ours. Other people may 
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