The horror of the days at Buffalo of the year before was still upon officials, and the appearance in the vicinity of the summer White House of several suspicious-looking characters rumoured to be anarchists brought about the swearing in as deputy sheriffs of five or six hundred citizens, among them the newspaper men stationed in the little town; sixty New York policemen were also added to the staff about the house. About three o’clock, the procession began its winding journey to the home on top of the hill. Carriages were stopped some distance down the drive, and all occupants required to complete the distance afoot. Coats, shawls, umbrellas, parasols, cameras, lunch boxes, even bouquets, were all scrutinized, and all belongings not actually attached to their owners were required to be deposited under a tree on the lawn. The consequent confusion arising when departing guests tried to redeem their belongings was the only flaw in an otherwise perfect day. These extreme measures were simply in obedience to orders to allow no one to approach the President save with hands exposed and unencumbered. Every precaution was taken to prevent a repetition of the tragedy of the previous year. Threatening letters had added to this fear, which was never absent from Mrs. Roosevelt’s mind. Even parents carrying children were required to show their hands. A double line of Secret Service men stationed themselves ahead of the President, and as each person came up, he was subjected to double scrutiny. Standing at the President’s side was another guard and protector, whose purpose was not generally known. This was Theodore, Junior, who had armed himself with a pistol, and during the entire afternoon kept his hand in his pocket and his finger upon the trigger, ready for the slightest suspicious move toward his idolized father. He was the object of grave concern to the Secret Service, and of a certain grim amusement to his father, whose reliance upon his son’s judgment was not shared by the others. No reception of President Roosevelt in Washington equalled this one in all of the elements of human interest. Men and women whom he had not seen in many years came in droves, and his delight in meeting them was genuine and spontaneous. Mrs. Roosevelt at his side shared his pleasure. Did she turn to speak to one of her receiving party for a minute, she was at once recalled enthusiastically to meet some old acquaintance. Once everyone’s attention was centred upon a smallish unpretentious individual, who was greeted thus: “Bless my soul, it’s Jake!” and Jake, red of face, beaming with joy, was dumb with delight. In one of the short lulls, the President told some of the porch party of Jake: