President Coolidge is said to sit patiently by the vaults of the Treasury, watching the pennies, but his virtuous vigilance is at last rewarded from an unexpected quarter. A dime which he let drop unbeknown, has returned, but not to plague him. The grateful finder ate a hearty meal, went to work, probably as a street car conductor, for he says that he "now has many dimes". The accidental leavings of great men have a magical potency.

The honesty and gratitude of the "friend" are to be commended, but the real pity is that he has robbed American history of a tradition: Paul Revere spurring his nag toward Concord, Daniel Webster with his hair tossed back and his throat well oiled. Abraham Lincoln and his cadaverous friendliness, Grant and his cigar; to this glorious galaxy of national heroes might have been added the epic story of Calvin and his dime, if this "friend" had not draped the pall of anonymity over the gusto of anecdote. Still, some patriotic Ananias should be able, from the postmark "Racine", to create a national legend, or at least a ballad to the man who dropped the dime.

Small boys will thank the anonymous "friend", however, for Mr. Rockefeller may thereby be induced to increase his Christmas present from a nickle to a dime. Perhaps this is a cooked up story and Cal is simply carrying on a little propaganda to help along the Christmas spirit of giving. At all events, here is the matter for an epic, and a troubadour must be found.