self, but the whole bodyguard of Purse, Privilege, and Power by which he was upheld.

The young college graduate apparently did not differ much from hundreds of other young academic idealists, as he entered the arena; but only the Roosevelt concentration, tenacity, and fearlessness enabled him to fight to a finish a battle where he defied precedent, alienated friends, and— as he once said to me - "took his very life in his hands."

His public life, his political future, of course he meant. And the "old family friend", a more experienced man, thought the same — that one who held an interview with him, praised him and presently bestowed upon him the eminently worldly advice, "Don't go too far, Theodore. You've made a real impression. Now let the matter drop. You'll be put down and out if you go on any longer against those big men." But Roosevelt was never a quitter and he fought the battle through, obtained the investigation committees which he had sought, and although they returned a "whitewashing" report, the public was convinced that his charges had been sound.

Mr. Thayer, speaking of Roosevelt's keen, relentless cross-examination of the opposing counsel, says in his volume: "Even in those days, Roosevelt, when in deadly earnest, had a way of fixing

his under jaw and pointing a forefinger which menaced like a seven-shooter." That vivid description appeals to me because years afterward I saw a somewhat similar situation, where for a moment my distinguished classmate - then President of the United States - must have looked much as he did in that Assembly Hall at Albany. It was at a class dinner. A hundred and more men were present, and Roosevelt had been asked to do all the after-dinner speaking. He did it admirably, telling us in confidence inside facts about several of his "policies." At one point a member of the class, presuming upon the speaker's friendliness, interrupted with an irrelevant question. Roosevelt gave a concise reply, then continued. A second time did that incautious person interject a remark. And a second time did Roosevelt reply, but with significant brevity. Then he resumed his talk. A third time that infatuated man arose and offered a suggestion. And I can never forget the tone, look, and gesture with which Roosevelt, annoyed beyond endurance, replied to him. His jaw was set, his blue eyes flashed, his arm and forefinger were leveled like a gun barrel, and his voice crackled like a machine gun: "When-I'm-through-you-cantalk."

We all had felt chills of apprehension at the interruptions, and all had lamented our interjectory

classmate's folly. But his collapse, upon receiving that rapid-fire volley, made us sorry for him, even as we realized that he deserved it.

I am struck, as I read about Roosevelt's Albany experiences, with the way in which he blended the idealistic, the academic, if you will, with a practical attention to the prosaic and athletic demands of any situation. When he took that leg of the broken chair into the arena-like committee room, he showed that he grasped the elemental, brute-force possibilities of the time and place. He had sized up the quality of the "Black Horse Cavalry." He may have recalled that dastardly recourse to brute force in the United States Senate, when Preston Brooks struck down unarmed Charles Sumner.

At any rate, physical violence was not attempted by his enemies not at that time and place. But at the Delevan House entrance, later, lurked "Stubby" Collins-hireling of the corrupt legislative ring - and planned to knock Roosevelt down. But the alert young reformer got in his lightning blow first. With that skillful arm and small but well-hardened fist he stretched the ruffian upon the floor and passed on.

The really essential and lasting interest which this period of 1881-1884 has for me is not the iniquitous ring, nor the "unjust judge", nor the revolting dwelling-house sweatshops, but the unfold

ing of Theodore Roosevelt's character. In the light of his subsequent national leadership, this was the important factor. And again I affirm that he was more truly a self-made man than any character — not excepting even that Abraham Lincoln whom he so admired in American history. As he passed through the years, he laid them under tribute. He impressed himself nobly upon them, but he gathered from them. He had been born to "privilege", but he constantly added to the number of his contacts with the great, real world; and he retained through all, not only his Sir Galahad idealism, but that phenomenal will, that power of concentration upon any given point of his expanding horizon, which made him unique in our national annals.

CHAPTER VI

"IN COWBOY LAND"

"In cowboy land" is the title of the chapter in Roosevelt's Autobiography in which he describes his experiences on the Little Missouri River, Dakota. The influences which led him to go out into that frontier life are quite evident. He had always loved camping and hunting, and while in college had made trips into the Maine forests. His brother Elliot had written him from Texas about the fascinations of the free, wild life of the border. And now were added two forces which quite turned him from the high-pressure life of New York and the complexity and corruptness of political life.

One of these forces was his discovery and disappointment that he had come to the end of what he, alone, as an individual, could accomplish in reform work. He had done wonders at Albany by his personal might. He had yet to learn - as he afterward saw and said that teamwork only, with that concession of individual preferences which goes with it, could carry to permanent success the kind of reform work upon which he had started.