I presume of my knowledge that Hon. Roosevelt are setting in them Light House at Washington suffering from pains in laughing-bone. He hear them Malefactors nervously chattering teeth about III Term, he are conscious about excitement from Subsidized persons which looks over shoulders for fearful of More of It; he are aware of very solidified O-Hio curses with instructions to Look Out.
But Hon. Roosevelt, setting in barber-chair at Light House, are smoking smoke and carving on deathly end of Big Club following instructions,
“To be Preserved in Alcohol until Needed in 1912.”
“You have been President once and ½,” say Jacob Riis from press chair.
“Of sure I have,” say Hon. Pres., “and I gave American audiences a very nice performance.”
“Every good performance deserve an encore,” admire Hon. Riis.
“I have been hunting them for several year,” say Hon. Roosevelt for parlayzed expression of thought. “And many of them are still alive & savage.”
“What you speak of,” enquire Hon. Riis, “them Trusts?”
“No,” renig Hon. Roosevelt, “them Bears.”
“What else to do when all is over?” require Hon. Jake.