Inasmuch as every member of Congress—occasional cranks excepted—now rides on the free passes, the mileage has become a considerable addition to the salary. A member who lives west of the Mississippi will find his pay increased a sixth, or a fifth, according to the distance from the Atlantic seaboard; while the delegate who comes from Hawaii will pocket considerably more than $2,000 for the alleged cost of getting to Washington. So far, good. Everybody knows that Congressmen do _not_ pay their way, and everybody knows that mileage no longer has any honest foundation; but we’ve got used to the grab, and we let it go, as inevitable, with a weary sigh of hopeless disgust. But the Congress which recently adjourned broke all previous records and gave the country a new chapter in the record of brazen dishonor. Previous to the meeting of the regular session there had been an extra session. This held on till the regular session began. There was no interval between the two. So far as time was concerned, the one ran into the other. Hence, no member went home from the extra session and came back to the regular session. There was absolutely no “recess” at all—_not a minute_ between the one session and the other. Now, behold the evil influence of a bad example. The President got the idea that while there was no _actual_ recess between the two sessions of Congress, there was a “_constructive_” recess. The Mephistopheles who whispered this baleful advice in the ear of Mr. Roosevelt was a better friend to the appointees who were to benefit by it—General Wood and Dr. Crum, for example—than they were to the President. The members of Congress were not slow to reason the case to this effect: If there has been such a _recess_ as to give General Wood a promotion in the army, and to Dr. Crum a fat office in the revenue service, then it has been a recess _for all purposes_. “If the President can fill offices upon a supposed recess, we can fill our pocket with mileage upon the same supposition. “The whole thing being imaginary, that theory which puts Wood higher up on the pay-roll, and which puts a negro in the Custom House at Charleston, will also imagine that we went home during the supposed recess, and that we have just returned from Georgia, Alabama, Wisconsin, California and the state of Washington. It’s a poor rule that won’t work both ways.” * * * * * The law clothes the President with the power to make recess appointments—which rids him of the necessity of consulting the Senate. In this instance, he created a recess in his mind, when none existed in fact, and the result was good for Wood and Crum. The imaginary recess having been created by the President, the members of the Lower House took an imaginary trip home during the imaginary recess, and then proposed that they be paid their imaginary expenses, not in imaginary money, but in hard cash.