trundling, ain't you?" I admitted that I was. A good many years later,
after I had been elected Vice-President, I went on a cougar hunt in
northwestern Colorado with Johnny Goff, a famous hunter and mountain
man. It was midwinter. I was rather proud of my achievements, and
pictured myself as being known to the few settlers in the neighborhood
as a successful mountain-lion hunter. I could not help grinning
when I found out that they did not even allude to me as the
Vice-President-elect, let alone as a hunter, but merely as "Johnny
Goff's tourist."

Of course during the years when I was most busy at serious work I could
do no hunting, and even my riding was of a decorous kind. But a man
whose business is sedentary should get some kind of exercise if he
wishes to keep himself in as good physical trim as his brethren who do
manual labor. When I worked on a ranch, I needed no form of exercise
except my work, but when I worked in an office the case was different.
A couple of summers I played polo with some of my neighbors. I shall
always believe we played polo in just the right way for middle-aged men
with stables of the general utility order. Of course it was polo which
was chiefly of interest to ourselves, the only onlookers being the
members of our faithful families. My two ponies were the only occupants
of my stable except a cart-horse. My wife and I rode and drove them, and
they were used for household errands and for the children, and for two
afternoons a week they served me as polo ponies. Polo is a good game,
infinitely better for vigorous men than tennis or golf or anything of
that kind. There is all the fun of football, with the horse thrown in;
and if only people would be willing to play it in simple fashion it
would be almost as much within their reach as golf. But at Oyster Bay
our great and permanent amusements were rowing and sailing; I do not
care for the latter, and am fond of the former. I suppose it sounds