Miss Helen Gould was one of those whose benefactions won notice at the time. They were different from others simply because they represented a greater expenditure of money; but they were of a kind with the service she rendered to the soldiers throughout the war. And the thought which prompted her to so kindly a series of actions was as lofty and pure as mind of man can imagine. It was related, in quality, to the sentiment which led the sons of the rich to enlist in the ranks. If she possessed great wealth, she gave as a woman of great wealth could, and so simple and genuine was her devotion that she won a place in the hearts of the soldiers which will hold to the end of life.

Her act was duplicated, perhaps in lesser degree but with like sincerity, by thousands. Rich men and women all over the country sent money to be expended for the comfort of the men. One millionaire sent an entire shipload of ice. President McKinley visited the camp with most of the members of his cabinet, employing the hours in walking through the streets of the "city of tents," talking with the soldiers, encouraging those who were sick, making sure that everything possible was being done for their comfort, and

leaving them with the profound expression of a nation's gratitude. The Secretary of War spent two days at the camp, sleeping in a tent one night, and sharing the experiences of those whose duty it was to remain.

On the day of Secretary Alger's visit a rather interesting event took place. Mounted drill had continued at intervals through the stay at Montauk Point, largely as a measure of giving employment and diversion to the men. One day while the members of the Third cavalry were getting ready for the work, a horse threw a trooper, and ran away. It was caught and returned, and a number of Rough Riders strolled over to see the second attempt. The trooper mounted again, and again was thrown. The horse was a huge, vicious sorrel, and what is known along the Rio Grande as a "bad bucker." None of the men of the Third could ride him. The Rough Riders jeered and mocked at them, and were dared to ride the horse, if they had any man in the command who was able. Sergeant Darnell was selected, and next day, in presence of the Secretary of War, the trial was made. In a big, open flat in front of Colonel Roosevelt's tent the big sorrel was led, and the whole camp,

together with hundreds of visitors, stood about watching the contest. The result was that after as fine a bit of rough riding as one would care to see, in which one scarcely knew whether to wonder more at the extraordinary viciousness and agile strength of the horse or at the horsemanship and courage of the rider, Darnell came off victorious, his seat never once having been shaken.

Colonel Roosevelt tells in graphic language of the final scenes of the Rough Riders as an arm of the Republic's military strength: "The last night before we were mustered out was spent in noisy but entirely harmless hilarity, which I ignored. Every form of celebration took place in the ranks. A former populist candidate for attorney-general in Colorado delivered a fervent oration in favor of free silver. A number of the college boys sang; but most of the men gave vent to their feelings by means of improvised dances. In these the Indians took the lead, pure bloods and half-breeds alike, the cowboys and miners cheerfully joining in and forming part of the howling, grunting rings that went bounding about the great fires they had kindled.

"Next morning Sergeant Wright took down