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I talked with a number of officers and troopers in Mr. Roosevelt's regiment while they were camped at Montauk Point, and I found their admiration for their colonel to be boundless. Every man of them had something interesting to tell about him.

"Why, he knows every man in the regiment by name," said one.

"He spent $5,000 of his own money at Santiago to give us better food and medicine."

"You ought to have seen him talk when some of our fellows weren't treated well in the hospital."

A young lieutenant told an incident of a night in the trenches, which well illustrates by what means Mr. Roosevelt held his power over his men. It was the night of the Spanish sortie on the captured trenches. The Rough Riders had lain, sweltering by day and shivering by night, for forty-eight hours, in a mud ditch with little sleep and little food. During nearly all of this time Mauser bullets sang over their heads. At the hour of the early morning, when men are cowards, if they ever are, the fusillade increased suddenly, and the Spaniards appeared in a dense, dark line at the top of the hill. For a moment the men in the trenches stirred restlessly, and then they saw Colonel Roosevelt walking calmly along the top of the entrenchment with a faded blue handkerchief flapping from the back of his hat, wholly unmindful of the bullets which hummed around him like a hive of bees. A cheer went up and calls for the colonel to come down, and that was the end of the restlessness. "It was the bravest thing I ever saw in my life," said the cowboy lieutenant.

A lank, red-headed Irish patrolman, named Duggan, saw a burglar one night, on Park Avenue, near Seventieth Street, making off with a bundle of silverware. He gave chase. The burglar threw away the bundle, and jumped the fence that surrounds the cavernous ventilating holes of the New York Central Railroad tunnel. Duggan followed him. The burglar ran to one of the holes, hesitated, and jumped a sheer twenty feet to the tracks below, regardless of the danger of being crushed by passing trains. Without a moment's consideration, Duggan sprang after him, landed on him and dragged him out by the collar. When the president of the Police Board heard of that, he straightway sent for Duggan, and heard the story from his own lips, and when Duggan went away, he was a roundsman.

T. R.—io

CHAPTER XII.

HOME AND ABROAD VIEW OF THE PRESIDENT.

American Competition in English Magazines about Americans—Some Errors of England—"Articulate" Surroundings of Roosevelt—The Scorching Light upon Him— Resemblance of "Theodore" to "William" Traced by "Poultney"—Supplement by Dr. Shaw—British Historian as an Expert Correspondent.

THE comparative youth of President Roosevelt introduces to the public young men who have not heretofore been counted as among the advisers of Chief Magistrates, and several of them are expected to give evidence of usefulness. Some are already advanced in excellent experiences, and all have literary accomplishments.

The London Spectator has declared the "new President," and this is a way of designation that does not seem quite thoughtful, to be of "the old-fashioned American type,"—to "resemble more closely the Presidents of the earlier years of the Republic." That he is a typical modern man is admitted, but "he is, in heart and essentials," the Spectator says, "far nearer the old type of the American statesman than the majority of men who have presided over America within the last sixty years."

Mr. Lincoln is ruled out of competition as "a man of genius," and so, "an exception to every rule, as much an exception among Presidents as Alfred, with whom he has many points of resemblance, was among Kings;" but, "save for Mr. Lincoln and General Grant, the modern Presidents have not been men of mark. They have been sound and excellent constitutional Monarchs, but not leaders and rulers of men. Mr. Roosevelt is far more like the men of the first three decades of the Republic than the Convention-made Presidents of modern times. When we say he is an old-fashioned American, we mean that he belongs to that strong, vigorous, authoritative type which has always existed in America, and always been apparent enough in business and in private life, though of late it has been somewhat submerged in politics. The late Lord Sherbrooke declared that what he liked about one of his colleagues—Lord Hartington—was his 'you-be-damnedness.' That same quality of downrightness, fearlessness and determination is to be found in Mr. Roosevelt." This is about as far as an Englishman can go in praise of an American President, but the Spectator makes another good point; indeed, the best and truest one of the lot, putting it in this way, "Together with his intensity and keenness, the new President is a man of moderation." To Americanize the remark, this moderation of tone is seen in all his expressions of opinion on such home questions as those of the trusts, temperance legislation and the tariff.

England's hostility to slave labor was largely for remote exercise and home consumption. The English spent a lot of money rather profligately and injudiciously, to abolish slavery far away, so far that the price of emancipation was not as a rule paid to the real slave holders. If either of the sections fighting the great American war, had been better informed in English history, there would have been less anger and misapprehension concerning the inconsistency of the British, with themselves touching ourselves. By this time we have been much improved in international acquaintance. Our neighbors are much nearer than they were a generation ago in the time and cost of travel, and the equality and freedom with which we simultaneously receive and act upon the news of the day, for now events are recorded as fast as the shadow of the globe the sun casts through the universe, follows the light. Yet, we do not find any Nation, great or small, very fond of another Nation, however small or great, that maintains a policy of nationality, and prefers to colonize afar off, rather than owe annexation to the attraction of superior weight. Friendliness with other powers can hardly be cultivated with alliances. Germany, Austria and Italy do not improve their fellow feeling by "entangling" treaties; but with the alliance of France and Russia, it becomes possible, when the Czar desires to make an end of Turkey in Europe, he can do it as a peace measure, and the Central European Nations seek compensation in division of spoils, rather than -by war. It is questionable whether the vaunted peace of "Arbitration" will ever come to the world, and with our Monroe Doctrine and Manifest Destiny, we do not care to tie ourselves up or down, in an agreement creating Courts, in which the presiding judge, whose casting vote decides the contention, will, in a majority of cases, be given by a second-class King.

Our Spanish War was an object lesson for the great powers, and instructed them, that our standing was to be taken into the most serious and respectful consideration. Our Navy signifies much more, since it was shown by tests of arms to be easily ready and effective. There are no ships, guns or marksmen better than ours; and that is a severely restrained form of expressing the fact. Our military prestige has been greatly increased by Roosevelt's regiment of Rough Riders; for they mean to the masters of armies that we have a reserve, the existence of which was not suspected, that on a field broad enough for full display and exertion, would be equal to meeting any cavalry that ever charged.

The Buffalo Tragedy has turned a tremendous searchlight upon the United States. The burning rays that are said to bear upon thrones, are not as searching as those that have poured upon us. The form of our government and the fitness of our people, have been under a storm of fire. A reason for this is, that the assassin of the third of our murdered Presidents, was not, as the murderer of Lincoln was, a melodramatic actor, crazy with vanity, a horrible impersonation of the madness that comes of acting dreams of bloodshed; while Garfield's murderer was a degenerate, a hideous crank, raving for an office in the gift of the President. The murderer of McKinley was an Anarchist, and "Anarchy" has been held to be a "problem" that belongs to Europe rather than to America. Europe and all the world turn to see how the "terrible bereavement" that President Roosevelt named our loss, affects our institutions, what it sets forth of our condition and character. We have done a great deal of boasting, and have gone far to justify it; but the pistol-shot in the Temple of Music, on the ground of the Pan-American Exposition, was aimed at the President as the President. The intention was to assassinate the Republic.

William McKinley was a great and good man, a just and pure man; a man of Christian spirit and gentleness, his sacrifice and death, his fortitude in anguish, and resignation when he knew the hand of death was upon him— when he sent for his wife the last time to try to comfort her as he was going; his last words infinite tenderness; his whispered singing with his last breath of the hymn that had comforted him in the trials of life, and his triumph with it in death—why, of all men, should this man be slaughtered while he was extending a courtesy to the Butcher? President McKinley had done more than any other since the beginning to aid the people of his country to be prosperous; and more to help the working-man to his share of the prosperity created by work, than any other statesman who has lived and wrought with us. What hissed the blood-hound upon this man, himself a workingman, the son of a workingman—this unselfish man, who was all charitableness for the erring, with good will for all, hopeful and helpful for all; a man of the people, his household all kindly—this man of generosity? Why does the murderer strike him down in this land of the free, the home of the oppressed; in the very "Empire for Liberty," of the equal rights of men? Whence comes the monster to whom this woeful crime is possible? It is not wonderful that Europe, and all the continents, and the islands of the sea, look aghast upon this spectacle. It is a phenomenon as surprising as it is awful.

We have not lost, in the public opinion of enlightened mankind, by the mournful and tragic event at Buffalo; as it and all the associated circumstances have been given a publicity without parallel, in its extent, its thoroughness, and the rapidity of circulation of the truth. All the earth's great cities that take

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