AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A PENNSYLVANIAN
calling me by name. We only met once before and then but for a few minutes.”
“I have a pretty good memory for faces, but that is not it—you have a face that lingers. Besides, we have met more than once. Perhaps we were not introduced, but I have seen you at functions.”
“How do you like it,” I inquired, “up to the present time? You were thrown out on the stump, making speeches, rubbing up against all kinds of people, many of them anxious to commit you upon subjects of interest to them. It must have been a great experience.”
“I rather enjoyed it. I made 402 speeches. Bryan made over eight hundred, but then, as some one said to me, he is an exception which don't count and is all throat. I wrote out at the beginning of the campaign a letter of acceptance in which I expressed my views on all the issues. In my speeches I confined myself to it, and you know while you may use different language it is practically a repetition of the same thought in all of them.”
Dr. S. Weir Mitchell sat on my right. Mr. Taft on my left. Presently Mr. Taft turned to me and abruptly asked:
“What sort of a mayor is Mr. Reyburn making?”
Mr. Reyburn was a few seats to our left, and in the course of the evening was unfortunate in an effort to secure an interview. I answered:
“Dr. Mitchell only a few minutes ago said to me that he is an unlimited idiot. I do not agree with Dr. Mitchell in this conclusion. You know Mitchell is a little decided in his views. I think Mr. Reyburn is a good mayor, doing all he can for the benefit of the city. In Philadelphia the lines are drawn pretty closely. I mean the social lines. Mr. Reyburn has not the correct social brand.”
“It amused me,” said he, “to hear that Mrs. Reyburn feels that her husband is like the Lord Mayor of London and ought to take the lead in all functions.”
“She not only so feels, but she shows a disposition to
