When Mr. Taft was on his campaigning tour in the west, before he had been elected President, he stopped at the home of an old friend. It was a small house, not well built, and as he walked about in his room the unsubstantial little house fairly shook with his tread. When he got into bed that receptacle, unused to so much weight, gave way, precipitating Taft on the floor.
His friend hurried to his door.
"What's the matter, Bill?"
"Oh, I'm all right, I guess," Taft called out to his friend good-naturedly; "but say, Joe, if you don't find me here in the morning look in the cellar."
One morning a few summers ago President Taft, wearing the largest bathing suit known to modern times, threw his substantial form into the cooling waves of Beverly Bay. Shortly afterward one neighbor said to another: "Let's go bathing."
"How can we?" was the response. "The President is using the ocean."