"Roosevelt is not a citizen of this state," said they. "He gave up his
residence here when he went to Washington to become Assistant Secretary
of the Navy."

"We don't want him anyway," said other politicians, who had not
forgotten how the Rough Rider had acted when in the Assembly. "If he
gets into office, it will be impossible to manage him." And they worked
night and day to defeat the hero of San Juan Hill.

On the day of the convention, the hall where it was held was jammed with
people. The people were also crowded in the street outside, and on every
hand were seen Rough Rider badges.

"It was a Roosevelt crowd from top to bottom," says one who was there.
"You heard his name everywhere--in the hotels, on the streets, no
matter where you went. Every once in a while somebody would shout,
'Three cheers for Teddy!' and the cheers would be given with a will."

As soon as the convention had settled down to business, Governor Black
was put up for nomination, and then the Hon. Chauncey M. Depew presented
the name of Theodore Roosevelt. He spoke of what had been done in Cuba,
and added:--

"The Rough Riders endured no hardships nor dangers which were not shared
by their Colonel. He helped them dig their ditches; he stood beside them
in the deadly dampness of the trenches. No floored tent for him if his
comrades must sleep on the ground and under the sky. In that world-famed
charge of the Rough Riders up the hill of San Juan, their Colonel was a
hundred feet in advance."

There was a prolonged cheering when Theodore Roosevelt's name was
mentioned, and hundreds waved their handkerchiefs and flags. Other
speeches followed, and at last came the voting. Out of the total number
cast Theodore Roosevelt received seven hundred and fifty-three and
Governor Black two hundred and eighteen.

"I move we make the nomination of Theodore Roosevelt unanimous!" cried
Judge Cady, who had previously presented the name of Governor Black. And
amid continued cheering this was done.

Theodore Roosevelt had been nominated on the regular Republican ticket.
In opposition, the Democrats nominated Augustus Van Wyck, also well
known, and likewise of as old Dutch stock as Roosevelt himself.

The campaign was a decidedly strenuous one. The Democrats made every
effort to win, while on the other hand the Republicans who had wanted
Governor Black for another term did not give to Mr. Roosevelt the
support promised when his nomination had been made unanimous.

"We shall be defeated," said more than one friend to Roosevelt. "It
seems a shame, but we cannot arouse the party as it should be aroused."

"I will see what I can do myself," answered the former leader of the
Rough Riders. And he arranged to make a complete tour of the State,
taking in almost every city and town of importance. When some of the
old campaign managers heard of this, they came to Roosevelt in great
alarm.

"You mustn't do it," they said. "It will ruin you."

"I will risk it," was the answer of the candidate. And forthwith he
started on his tour, taking a handful of his Rough Rider friends with
him.

It was a brilliant stroke on the part of Theodore Roosevelt, and it told
tremendously in his favor. Wherever he went, the people turned out in
large crowds to see him and to listen to what he or his Rough Rider
companions had to say. Citizens by the hundred came up to shake him by
the hand and wish him success. Parades were organized to do him honor,
and at night there would be brilliant illuminations and fireworks.

"We have aroused the party," said he, when the tour was at an end. And
so it proved. Although Van Wyck was popular, Theodore Roosevelt was
elected to the high office of governor by seventeen thousand plurality.

It was certainly a high position for such a young man to occupy. He was
barely forty years of age, yet as governor of New York he ruled twice as
many people as did George Washington when first President of the United
States.

He entered on his new duties with as much zeal as he had displayed when
organizing the Rough Riders, and in a few weeks had the reins of
government well in hand. It is said that while he was governor he was
never surprised by those who opposed him. When they wanted facts and
figures he was able to produce them, and he never supported or vetoed a
measure unless he was morally certain he was on the right side. He was
open-faced to the last degree, and what he said he meant.

During his term of office many measures of importance were considered,
but in a work of this kind it is not necessary to go into details. For
several important offices he nominated men of his own selection, despite
the protests of some older politicians, and these selections proved
first-class.

During his term as governor, Mr. Roosevelt did a great work for many
poor people in New York City, who worked in what are called "sweat
shops,"--small, close quarters, not fit for working purposes, in which
men, women, and children make clothing and other articles. He enforced
what was known as the Factory Law, and the owners of the "sweat-shops"
had to seek larger and more sanitary quarters for their employees. He
also took a strong hand in reforming the administration of the canals,
which had been one-sided and unfair.

But perhaps his greatest work was in behalf of a measure meant to make
the great corporations of New York State pay their fair share of the
general taxes. In the past these corporations had had great rights
conferred upon them, and they had paid little or nothing in return.

"This is unjust," said Governor Roosevelt. "They should pay their taxes
just as the poorest citizen is compelled to pay his tax."

When the corporations heard this, many of the men in control were
furious, and they threatened the governor in all sorts of ways. They
would defeat him if he ever again came up for election, and defeat him
so badly that he would never again be heard of.

"Do as you please, gentlemen," said the governor. "I am here to do my
duty, and I intend to do it." And he called an extra session of the
legislature for that purpose. It is said that much money was used by
some corporations to defeat Governor Roosevelt's will, but in the end a
modified form of the bill was passed. Since that time other bills along
similar lines have become laws; so that the great corporations have to
pay millions of dollars which in the past they had escaped paying. Such
measures are of immense benefit to the ordinary citizen, and for his
share in this work Theodore Roosevelt deserves great credit.

It was while governor of New York that Mr. Roosevelt gave to the public
his book entitled "The Rough Riders." It contains a history of that
organization from his personal point of view, and makes the most
fascinating kind of reading from beginning to end. It was well received,
and added not a little to the laurels of the writer as an author.

Although much of his time was spent at Albany as Executive, Theodore
Roosevelt had not given up the old homestead at Oyster Bay on Long
Island, and thither he went for rest and recreation, taking his entire
family, which, as has been said, consisted of his wife and six children,
with him.

The old Roosevelt homestead is on a hill about three miles distant from
the village. The road to the house winds upward through a wilderness of
trees and brushwood. At the top of the hill, where the house stands, is
a cleared space, free to the strong breezes of Long Island Sound. It is
on the north shore, about twenty-five miles from City Hall, New York.

The house is a large, three-story affair, with crossed gables, and a
large semicircular veranda at one end. Inside there is a wide hall, and
all the rooms are of good size, with broad windows and inviting open
fireplaces. One room is fitted up as Mr. Roosevelt's "den," with many
bookcases filled with books, and with rare prints of Washington,
Lincoln, and other celebrities on the walls, and with not a few trophies
of the hunt added. In this room Mr. Roosevelt has done much of his work
as an author.

It is said that Abraham Lincoln not only chopped wood for a living, but
that he rather enjoyed the outdoor exercise. Be that as it may, it
remains a fact that Mr. Roosevelt frequently goes forth into the woods
on his estate to fell a tree, or split one up, just for the exercise
thus afforded. This he did while he was governor of New York, and once
astonished some newspaper men who had come to see him on business by the
dexterity with which he cut a large tree trunk in two. He even invited
his visitors to "take a hack at it" themselves, but they respectfully
declined.

He still kept up his athletic exercise, and one of his favorite
amusements was to go on long horseback rides, either alone, or with some
relative or friend. At other times he would go deep into the woods with
his young sons, showing them how to bring down the nuts from the trees,
or how to use their guns on any small game that chanced to show itself.
His family life was then, as it has always been, a happy one; but of
this let us speak later.

[Illustration: THE ROOSEVELT HOMESTEAD AT OYSTER BAY.

(_Photograph by Pach Bros., N.Y._)]




CHAPTER XX

GREAT RECEPTION TO ADMIRAL DEWEY--GOVERNOR ROOSEVELT'S INCREASED
POPULARITY--LAST ANNUAL MESSAGE AS GOVERNOR--VISIT TO CHICAGO--REMARKABLE
SPEECH ON THE STRENUOUS LIFE


Although the war with Spain was over, the people of the United States
had not forgotten the wonderful work accomplished by Admiral Dewey and
his men at Manila, and when the dauntless naval fighter returned to this
country, people everywhere arose to do him honor.

"He well deserves it," said Governor Roosevelt. And he appointed
September 29 and 30, 1899, as public holidays, to be observed throughout
the entire State as days of general thanksgiving. These days were
commonly called "Dewey Days."

The reception to the Admiral and to the other naval heroes was to take
place in New York and vicinity, and for many days the citizens were busy
decorating their homes and places of business with flags and bunting
and pictures, and immense signs of "Welcome," some in letters several
feet long. At the junction of Broadway, Fifth Avenue, and Twenty-Third
Street, an immense triumphal arch was erected, and reviewing stands
stretched along the line of parade for many miles.

On the day before the grand reception, Governor Roosevelt, with some
members of his staff, called upon Admiral Dewey on board of the
_Olympia_, and offered the State's greeting. A pleasant time was had by
all, and the governor assured the sea hero that the people of New York
and vicinity were more than anxious to do him honor.

It had been arranged that a naval parade should be held on the first day
of the reception, and a land parade on the day following. The course of
the naval parade was up the Hudson River past Grant's Tomb, and the
grand procession on the water included the _Olympia_, the Admiral's
flag-ship, and the _New York_, _Indiana_, _Massachusetts_, _Texas_,
_Brooklyn_, and a large number of other war-ships of lesser importance,
besides an immense number of private steam-yachts and other craft.

The day dawned clear and bright, and the banks of the Hudson were lined
from end to end with people. When the procession of war-ships swept up
the stream, loud was the applause, while flags waved everywhere, and
whistles blew constantly. When passing Grant's Tomb every war-ship fired
a salute, and the mass of sound echoing across the water was positively
deafening.

As the _Olympia_ swept up the river, fired her salute, and then came to
anchor a short distance below the last resting-place of General Grant,
Admiral Dewey stood on the bridge of his flag-ship, a small, trim
figure, with a smile and a wave of the hand for everybody. The surging
people could see him but indistinctly, yet there was much hand clapping,
and throats grew sore with cheering.

But there was another figure in that naval parade, the person of one
also dear to the hearts of the people. It was the figure of Theodore
Roosevelt, dressed, not as a Rough Rider, but as a civilian, standing at
the rail of a steamer used by the New York State officials. When the
people saw and recognized that figure, the cheering was as wild as
ever.

"It is Roosevelt!" ran from mouth to mouth. "The hero of San Juan Hill!"

"Hurrah for the Rough Riders and their gallant leader!" came from
others. And the cheering was renewed.

In the evening there was a grand display of fireworks and illuminated
floats. The immense span of the Brooklyn Bridge was a mass of lights,
and contained the words "Welcome, Dewey" in lettering which covered
several hundred feet. All of the war-ships had their search-lights in
operation, and it can truthfully be said that for once the metropolis
was as light as day.

But all of this was as nothing compared with the land parade which
followed. Never before had the streets of New York been so jammed with
people. At many points it was impossible to move, yet the crowds were
good-natured and patriotic to the core. The parade started at Grant's
Tomb and ended at Washington Square, and was between five and six hours
in passing. Admiral Dewey rode in a carriage with Mayor Van Wyck, and
received another ovation. At the Triumphal Arch the Admiral reviewed
the parade, and here he was accorded additional honors.

In this parade Governor Roosevelt rode on horseback, in civilian dress.
As he came down the street, the immense crowds recognized him from afar,
and the hand clapping and cheering was tremendous, and lasted long after
he was out of sight.

"It's our own Teddy Roosevelt!" cried the more enthusiastic.

"Hurrah for the governor! Hurrah for the colonel of the Rough Riders!"

"Hurrah for the coming President!" said another. And he spoke better
than he knew.

This demonstration came straight from the people's heart, and it could
not help but affect Theodore Roosevelt. Sitting astride of his
dark-colored horse like a veteran, he bowed right and left. Next to
Dewey, he was easily the greatest figure in the parade.

On January 3, 1900, Governor Roosevelt sent his last annual message to
the State legislature. It was an able document, and as it was now
recognized everywhere that he was a truly national figure, it was given
careful attention. It treated of the corruption in canal management, of
the franchise tax, of taxation in general, and a large portion was
devoted to the trusts. At that time the trusts were receiving great
attention everywhere, and it was felt that what the governor had to say
about them, that they were largely over-capitalized, that they
misrepresented the condition of their affairs, that they promoted unfair
competition, and that they wielded increased power over the wage-earner,
was strictly true.

In Chicago there is a wealthy organization known as the Hamilton Club,
and the members were very anxious to have Governor Roosevelt as their
guest on Appomattox Day, April 10, 1899. A delegation went to New York
to invite the governor, and he accepted the invitation with pleasure.

"The middle West is very dear to me," said he. "It will be a pleasure to
meet my many friends there."

Of course he was expected to speak, and said the subject of his address
would be "The Strenuous Life,"--certainly a subject close to his own
heart, considering the life he himself had led.

When Mr. Roosevelt reached the metropolis of the Great Lakes, he found
a large crowd waiting at the railroad station to receive him. The
reception committee was on hand, with the necessary coaches, and people
were crowded everywhere, anxious to catch a sight of the man who had
made himself famous by the advance up San Juan Hill.

But for the moment Governor Roosevelt did not see the reception
committee, nor did he see the great mass of people. In a far corner of
the platform he caught sight of six men, dressed in the faded and
tattered uniform of the Rough Riders. They were not men of wealth or
position, but they were men of his old command, and he had not forgotten
them.

"Glad to see you, boys, glad to see you!" he shouted, as he elbowed his
way toward them. "Come up here and shake hands."

"Glad to see you, Colonel," was the ready answer, and the faces of the
men broke into broad smiles. They shook hands readily, and willingly
answered all of the questions the governor put to them. He asked how
each of them was doing, calling them by their names, and concluded by
requesting them to come up to the Auditorium later, "for an all-round
chat."

"It was a great meeting," said one who was there. "Before the train came
in, those old Rough Riders were nervous and showed it. They knew that
Roosevelt had become a great man, and they were just a little afraid he
would pass them by. When the meeting was over, they went off as happy as
a lot of children, and one of them said, 'Say, fellows, Teddy's just all
right yet, ain't he?' And another answered: 'Told you he would be. He's
a white man through and through, none whiter anywhere.'"

The banquet was held in the Auditorium Theatre building, and was said to
be the largest ever given in Chicago. Many distinguished guests were
present, both from the North and the South, and the place was a mass of
flowers and brilliantly illuminated, while a fine orchestra discoursed
music during the meal. When Theodore Roosevelt arose to speak, there was
cheering that lasted fully a quarter of an hour.

The speech made upon this occasion is one not likely to be forgotten.
Previous to that time the word "strenuous" had been heard but seldom,
but ever since it has stood for something definite, and is much in use.
In part Mr. Roosevelt spoke as follows:--

"I wish to preach, not the doctrine of ignoble ease, but the doctrine of
the strenuous life; the life of toil and effort; of labor and strife; to
preach that highest form of success which comes, not to the man who
desires mere easy peace, but to the man who does not shirk from danger,
from hardship, or from bitter toil, and who out of these wins the
splendid ultimate triumph."

Another paragraph is equally interesting and elevating:--

"We do not admire the man of timid peace. We admire the man who embodies
victorious effort; the man who never wrongs his neighbor, who is prompt
to help a friend; but who has those virile qualities necessary to win in
the stern strife of actual life. It is hard to fail; but it is worse
never to have tried to succeed."

And to this he adds:--

"As it is with the individual so it is with the nation. It is a base
untruth to say that happy is the nation that has no history. Thrice
happy is the nation that has a glorious history. Far better is it to
dare mighty things to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by
failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy
much nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows
neither victory nor defeat."[1]

[Footnote 1: For other extracts from this speech, see Appendix A, p.
297.]

[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt]




CHAPTER XXI

THE CONVENTION AT PHILADELPHIA--THEODORE ROOSEVELT SECONDS THE
NOMINATION OF PRESIDENT MCKINLEY--BECOMES CANDIDATE FOR THE
VICE-PRESIDENCY--REMARKABLE TOURS THROUGH MANY STATES


As the time came on to nominate parties for the office of President and
Vice-President of the United States, in 1900, there was considerable
speculation in the Republican party regarding who should be chosen for
the second name on the ticket.

It was felt by everybody that President McKinley had honestly earned a
second term, not alone by his management of the war with Spain, but also
because of his stand touching the rebellion in the Philippines, and on
other matters of equal importance.

About the Vice-Presidency the political managers were not so sure, and
they mentioned several names. But in the hearts of the people there was
but one name, and that was Theodore Roosevelt.

"We must have him," was heard upon every side. "He will be just the
right man in the right place. He will give to the office an importance
never before attached to it, and an importance which it deserves."

Personally, Governor Roosevelt did not wish this added honor. As the
Executive of the greatest State in our Union, he had started great
reforms, and he wanted to finish them.

"My work is here," he said to many. "Let me do what I have been called
to do, and then I will again be at the service of the whole nation once
more."

The National Republican Convention met in Philadelphia, June 19, in
Exposition Hall, beautifully decorated with flags and banners. Senator
Mark Hanna, President McKinley's warmest personal friend, was chairman,
and the delegates, numbering over seven hundred, came, as usual at such
conventions, from every State in the Union. Governor Roosevelt himself
was a delegate, and sat near the middle aisle, five or six seats from
the front. He was recognized by everybody, and it is safe to say that
he was the most conspicuous figure at the convention.

Up to the last minute many of the political leaders were, in a measure,
afraid of Theodore Roosevelt. They understood his immense popularity,
and were afraid that the convention might be "stampeded" in his favor.

"If they once start to yell for Roosevelt, it will be good-by to
everybody else," said one old politician. "They are just crazy after the
leader of the Rough Riders."

But this man did not understand the stern moral honesty of the man under
consideration. Roosevelt believed in upholding William McKinley, and had
said so, and it was no more possible for him to seek the Presidential
nomination by an underhanded trick than it was for President McKinley to
do an equally base thing when he was asked to allow his name to be
mentioned at the time he had pledged himself to support John Sherman.[2]
Both men were of equal loyalty, and the word of each was as good as his
bond.

[Footnote 2: See "American Boys' Life of William McKinley," p. 191.]

It was Senator Foraker who put up President McKinley for nomination, and
the vigorous cheering at that time will never be forgotten. Fifteen
thousand throats yelled themselves hoarse, and then broke into the
ringing words and music of "The Union Forever!" in a manner that made
the very convention hall tremble. Then came cries for Roosevelt, "For
our own Teddy of the Rough Riders!" and, written speech in hand, he
arose amid that vast multitude to second the candidacy of William
McKinley. Not once did he look at the paper he held in his hand, but
with a force that could not be misunderstood he addressed the
assemblage.

"I rise to second the nomination of William McKinley, because with him
as a leader this people has trod the path of national greatness and
prosperity with the strides of a giant," said he, "and because under him
we can and will succeed in the election. Exactly as in the past we have
remedied the evils which we undertook to remedy, so now when we say that
a wrong shall be righted, it most assuredly will be righted.

"We stand on the threshold of a new century, a century big with the
fate of the great nations of the earth. It rests with us to decide now
whether in the opening years of that century we shall march forward to
fresh triumphs, or whether at the outset we shall deliberately cripple
ourselves for the contest."

His speech was the signal for another burst of applause, and when
finally Theodore Roosevelt was named as the candidate for
Vice-President, the crowd yelled until it could yell no longer, while
many sang "Yankee Doodle" and other more or less patriotic airs, keeping
time with canes and flag-sticks. When the vote was cast, only one
delegate failed to vote for Theodore Roosevelt, and that was Theodore
Roosevelt himself.

The platform of the party was largely a repetition of the platform of
four years before. Again the cry was for "sound money," and for the
continuance of President McKinley's policy in the Philippines.

The campaign which followed was truly a strenuous one--to use a favorite
word of the candidate. President McKinley decided not to make many
speeches, and thus the hard work previous to election day fell upon
Theodore Roosevelt.

He did not shirk the task. As with everything he undertook, he entered
into the campaign with vigor, resolved to deserve success even if he did
not win it.

"I will do my best in the interests of our party, and for the benefit of
the people at large," said Theodore Roosevelt. "No man can do more than
that."

In the few short months between the time when he was nominated and when
the election was held, Governor Roosevelt travelled over 20,000 miles by
rail, visiting nearly 600 towns, and addressing, on a rough estimate,
fully 3,000,000 of people! In that time he delivered 673 speeches, some
of them half an hour and some an hour in length.

In his thousands of miles of travel the candidate for the
Vice-Presidency visited many States, particularly those lying between
New York and Colorado. At nearly every town he was greeted by an immense
crowd, all anxious to do the leader of the Rough Riders honor. In the
large cities great banquets were held, and he was shown much respect
and consideration. In many places those who had fought under him came to
see and listen to him, and these meetings were of especial pleasure.
Often he would see an old Rough Rider hanging back in the crowd, and
would call him to the front or do his best to reach the ex-soldier and
shake him by the hand.

One occurrence is worthy of special mention. The Democratic party had
nominated William Jennings Bryan as their candidate for President. There
was a great labor picnic and demonstration at Chicago, and both Governor
Roosevelt and Mr. Bryan were invited to speak.

"You had better not accept, governor," said some friends to Theodore
Roosevelt. "There may be trouble."

"I am not afraid," answered the former leader of the Rough Riders.

"But Mr. Bryan and yourself are to be there at practically the same
time."

"That does not matter," said the governor. And he went to Chicago on
September 3, to attend the Labor Day celebrations. The picnic was held
at Electric Park, and in the presence of fifteen thousand people
Governor Roosevelt and Mr. Bryan "buried the hatchet" for the time
being, and spoke to those surrounding them on the dignity of labor and
the duties of the laboring man to better himself and his social
conditions. In that motley collection of people there were frequent
cries of "Hurrah for Teddy!" and "What's the matter with Bryan? He's all
right!" but there was no disturbance, and each speaker was listened to
with respectful attention from start to finish. It was without a doubt a
meeting to show true American liberty and free speech at its best.

But all of the stops on his tours were not so pleasant to Governor
Roosevelt. In every community there are those who are low-bred and bound
to make an exhibition of their baseness. At Waverly, New York, a stone
was flung at him through the car window, breaking the glass but missing
the candidate for whom it was intended. At once there was excitement.

"Are you hurt, Governor?" was the question asked.

"No," returned Theodore Roosevelt. And then he added, with a faint
smile, "It's only a bouquet, but I wish, after this, they wouldn't make
them quite so hard."

There was also a demonstration against the candidate at Haverstraw, New
York, which threatened for a while to break up an intended meeting. But
the worst rowdyism was encountered at Victor, a small town in Colorado,
near the well-known mining centre of Cripple Creek. Victor was full of
miners who wanted not "sound money," but "free silver," for free silver,
so styled, meant a great booming of silver mining.

"We don't want him here," said these miners. "We have heard enough about
him and his gold standard. He had better keep away, or he'll regret it."

When Theodore Roosevelt was told he might have trouble in the mining
camps, he merely shrugged his shoulders.

"I know these men," he said. "The most of them are as honest and
respectable as the citizens of New York. I am not afraid of the vicious
element. The better class are bound to see fair play."

The governor spoke at a place called Armory Hall, and the auditorium was
packed. He had just begun his speech when there was a wild yelling and
cat-calling, all calculated to drown him out. He waited for a minute,
and then, as the noise subsided, tried to go on once more, when a voice
cried out:--

"What about rotten beef?" referring to the beef furnished during the
Santiago campaign, which had, of course, come through a Republican
Commissary Department.

"I ate that beef," answered the governor, quickly. And then he added to
the fellow who had thus questioned him: "You will never get near enough
to be hit with a bullet, or within five miles of it." At this many burst
into applause, and the man, who was a coward at heart, sneaked from the
hall in a hurry. He was no soldier and had never suffered the hardships
of any campaign, and many hooted him as he deserved.

But the trouble was not yet over. Theodore Roosevelt finished his
address, and then started to leave the hall in company with a number of
his friends. On the way to the train a crowd of rowdies followed the
candidate's party, and threw all sorts of things at them. One man made a
personal attack on the governor and hit him on the chest with a stick.
He tried to leap away, but was knocked down by a personal friend of
Theodore Roosevelt.

"Down with the gold bugs!" was the cry, and the violence of the mob
increased. The friends of Governor Roosevelt rallied to his support, and
blows were given and taken freely. But with it all the candidate reached
his train in safety, and in a few minutes more had left the town far
behind. He was not much disturbed, and the very next day went on with
his speech-making as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The
better classes of citizens of Victor were much disturbed over the
happening, and they sent many regrets to Governor Roosevelt, assuring
him that such a demonstration would never again be permitted to occur.




CHAPTER XXII

ELECTED VICE-PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES--PRESIDES OVER THE
SENATE--TAX UPON THEODORE ROOSEVELT'S STRENGTH--START ON ANOTHER GRAND
HUNTING TOUR


But the campaign, sharp and bitter as it had been, was not yet at an
end. In New York City there followed a "Sound Money Parade," which was
perhaps the largest of its kind ever witnessed in the United States. It
was composed of all sorts and conditions of men, from bankers and
brokers of Wall Street to the humble factory and mill hands from up the
river and beyond. The parade took several hours to pass, and was
witnessed by crowds almost as great as had witnessed the Dewey
demonstration.

In New York City, as the time drew closer for the election, there was
every intimation that the contest would be an unusually "hot" one, and
that there would be much bribery and corruption. It was said by some
that police methods were very lax at that time, and that the saloons,
which ought to be closed on election day, would be almost if not quite
wide open.

[Illustration: _Photograph by Pach Bros., N.Y._

PRESIDENT MCKINLEY AND VICE-PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT.]

"We must have an honest election," said Governor Roosevelt. And without
loss of time he sent letters to Mayor Van Wyck, and to the sheriff and
the district attorney of the county of New York, calling their attention
to the facts in the case, and telling them that he would hold them
strictly responsible if they did not do their full duty. As a
consequence the election was far more orderly than it might otherwise
have been in the metropolitan district.

The results of the long contest were speedily known. McKinley and
Roosevelt had been elected by a large plurality, and both they and their
numerous friends and supporters were correspondingly happy. Great
parades were had in their honor, and it was predicted, and rightly, that
the prosperity which our country had enjoyed for several years in the
past would continue for many years to come.

During those days the United States had but one outside difficulty,
which was in China. There a certain set of people called the Boxers
arose in rebellion and threatened the lives of all foreigners, including
American citizens. An International Army was organized, including
American, English, French, German, Japanese, and other troops, and a
quick attack was made upon Tien-Tsin and Pekin, and the suffering
foreigners in China were rescued. In this campaign the American soldiers
did their full share of the work and added fresh laurels to the name of
Old Glory.

The tax upon the strength of the newly elected Vice-President had been
very great, and he was glad to surrender the duties of governor into the
hands of his successor. But as Vice-President, Theodore Roosevelt became
the presiding officer of the United States Senate, a position of equal
if not greater importance.

As President of the Senate it is said that Mr. Roosevelt was kind yet
firm, and ever on the alert to see that affairs ran smoothly. He
occupied the position only for one short winter session, and during that
time nothing came under discussion that was of prime importance,
although my young readers must remember that all the work accomplished
in our Senate is of more or less magnitude.

"He was very earnest in his work," says one who was in the Senate at
that time. "As was his usual habit, he took little for granted, but
usually started to investigate for himself. He knew the rules
thoroughly, and rarely made an error."

For a long time the newly elected Vice-President had been wanting to get
back to his favorite recreation, hunting. Despite the excitement of
political life, he could not overcome his fondness for his rifle and the
wilderness. He felt that an outing would do his system much good, and
accordingly arranged for a five weeks' hunting trip in northwestern
Colorado.

In this trip, which he has himself described in one of his admirable
hunting papers, he had with him two companions, Dr. Gerald Webb of
Colorado Springs, and Mr. Philip K. Stewart, an old friend who in former
years had been captain of the Yale base-ball team.

The party went as far as the railroad would carry them, and then started
for a settlement called Meeker, forty miles distant. The weather was
extremely cold, with the thermometer from ten to twenty degrees below
zero, but the journey to Meeker was made in safety, and here the hunters
met their guide, a well-known hunter of that region named Goff, and
started with him for his ranch, several miles away.

Theodore Roosevelt would have liked to bring down a bear on this trip,
but the grizzlies were all in winter quarters and sleeping soundly, so
the hunt was confined to bob-cats and cougars. The hunting began early,
for on the way to the ranch the hounds treed a bob-cat, commonly known
as a lynx, which was secured without much trouble, and a second bob-cat
was secured the next day.

The territory surrounding Goff's ranch, called the Keystone, was an
ideal one for hunting, with clumps of cottonwoods and pines scattered
here and there, and numerous cliffs and ravines, the hiding-places of
game unnumbered. The ranch home stood at the foot of several well-wooded
hills, a long, low, one-story affair, built of rough logs, but clean and
comfortable within.

The two days' ride in the nipping air had been a severe test of
endurance, and all were glad, when the ranch was reached, to "thaw out"
before the roaring fire, and sit down to the hot and hearty meal that
had been prepared in anticipation of their coming.

The hunters had some excellent hounds, trained especially for bob-cats
and cougars, animals that were never allowed to go after small game
under any circumstances. Theodore Roosevelt was much taken with them
from the start, and soon got to know each by name.

"In cougar hunting the success of the hunter depends absolutely upon his
hounds," says Mr. Roosevelt. And he described each hound with great
minuteness, showing that he allowed little to escape his trained eye
while on this tour.

On the day after the arrival at the ranch the party went out for its
first cougar, which, as my young readers perhaps know, is an animal
inhabiting certain wild parts of our West and Southwest. The beast grows
to a size of from six to nine feet in length, and weighs several hundred
pounds. It is variously known as a puma and panther, the latter name
sometimes being changed to "painter." When attacked, it is ofttimes
exceedingly savage, and on certain occasions has been known to kill a
man.

In Colorado the cougar is hunted almost exclusively with the aid of
hounds, and this was the method adopted on the present occasion. With
the pen of a true sportsman, Mr. Roosevelt tells us how the hounds were
held back until a cougar trail less than thirty-six hours old was
struck. Then off went the pack along the cliffs and ravines, with the
hunters following on horseback. The trail led up the mountain side and
then across the valley opposite, and soon the hounds were out of sight.
Leading their steeds, the hunters went down the valley and followed the
dogs, to find they had separated among the bare spots beyond. But soon
came a welcome sound.

"The cougar's treed," announced the guide. And so it proved. But when
the hunters came closer, the cougar, an old female, leaped from the
tree, outdistanced the dogs, and leaped into another tree. Then, as the
party again came up, the beast took another leap and started to run
once more. But now the hounds were too quick, and in a trice they had
the cougar surrounded. Slipping in, Theodore Roosevelt ended the
struggles of the wild beast by a knife-thrust behind the shoulder.

The next day there was another hunt, and this had rather a tinge of
sadness to it. The dogs tracked a mother cougar, who occupied her den
with her three kittens. The hounds rushed into the hole, barking
furiously, and presently one came out with a dead kitten in his mouth.

"I had supposed a cougar would defend her young to the last," says Mr.
Roosevelt, "but such was not the case in this instance. For some minutes
she kept the dogs at bay, but gradually gave ground, leaving her three
kittens." The dogs killed the kittens without loss of time, and then
followed the cougar as she fled from the other end of her hole. But the
hounds were too quick for her, and soon had her on the ground. Theodore
Roosevelt rushed up, knife in one hand and rifle in the other. With the
firearm he struck the beast in the jaws, and then ended the struggle by
a knife-thrust straight into the heart.

To many this may seem a cruel sport, and in a certain sense it assuredly
is; but my young readers must remember that cougars and other wild
beasts are a menace to civilization in the far West, and they have been
shot down and killed at every available opportunity. More than this, as
I have already mentioned, Theodore Roosevelt is more than a mere hunter
delighting in bloodshed. He is a naturalist, and examines with care
everything brought down and reports upon it, so that his hunting trips
have added not a little to up-to-date natural history. The skulls of the
various animals killed on this trip were forwarded to the Biological
Survey, Department of Agriculture, Washington, and in return Mr.
Roosevelt received a letter, part of which stated:--

"Your series of skulls from Colorado is incomparably the largest, most
complete, and most valuable series ever brought together from any single
locality, and will be of inestimable value in determining the amount of
individual variation."




CHAPTER XXIII

THE ROOSEVELT FAMILY IN THE ADIRONDACKS--THE PAN-AMERICAN EXPOSITION AT
BUFFALO--SHOOTING OF PRESIDENT MCKINLEY--THE VICE-PRESIDENT'S
VISIT--DEATH OF THE PRESIDENT


Theodore Roosevelt's companions of the hunt remained with him for
fourteen days, after which they departed, leaving him with Goff, the
ranchman and hunter already mentioned.

When the pair were alone, they visited Juniper Mountain, said to be a
great ground for cougars and bob-cats, and there hunted with great
success. All together the trip of five weeks' hunting netted fourteen
cougars, the largest of which was eight feet in length and weighed 227
pounds. Mr. Roosevelt also brought down five bob-cats, showing that he
was just as skilful with his rifle as ever.

The hero of San Juan Hill fairly loved the outdoor exercise of the hunt,
and spent three weeks in keen enjoyment after his companions had
departed. During this time it snowed heavily, so that the hunters were
often compelled to remain indoors. As luck would have it there were
other ranches in that vicinity, with owners that were hospitable, so
that they did not have to go into camp, as would otherwise have been the
case.

On the last day of the hunt, Theodore Roosevelt was able to bring down
the largest cougar yet encountered. The hounds were on the trail of one
beast when they came across that of another and took it up with but
little warning.

"We're going to get a big one now," said Goff. "Just you wait and see."

"Well, if we do, it will be a good ending to my outing," responded
Theodore Roosevelt.

The cougar was at last located by the hounds in a large pinyon on the
side of a hill. It had run a long distance and was evidently out of
breath, but as the hunters drew closer, it leaped to the ground and
trotted away through the snow. Away went the hounds on the new trail of
the beast.

"He's game, and he'll get away if he can," said the guide.

At the top of another hill the cougar halted and one of the hounds
leaped in, and was immediately sent sprawling by a savage blow of the
wild animal's paw. Then on went the cougar as before, the hounds barking
wildly as they went in pursuit.

When Theodore Roosevelt came up once more, the cougar was in another
pinyon tree, with the hounds in a semicircle on the ground below.

"Now I think I've got him," whispered Theodore Roosevelt to his
companion, and advanced on foot, with great cautiousness. At first he
could see nothing, but at last made out the back and tail of the great
beast, as it lay crouched among the branches. With great care he took
aim and fired, and the cougar fell to the ground, shot through the back.

At once the hounds rushed in and seized the game. But the cougar was not
yet dead, and snapping and snarling the beast slipped over the ground
and down a hillside, with the dogs all around it. Theodore Roosevelt
came up behind, working his way through the brush with all speed. Then,
watching his chance, he jumped in, hunting-knife in hand, and despatched
the game.

"A good haul," cried Goff. And later on he and his men came to the
conclusion that it was the same cougar that had carried off a cow and a
steer and killed a work horse belonging to one of the ranches near by.

The five weeks spent in the far West strengthened Theodore Roosevelt a
great deal, and it was with renewed energy that he took up his duties as
Vice-President of our nation.

In the meantime, however, matters were not going on so well at home.
Among the children two had been very sick, and in the summer it was
suggested that some pure mountain air would do them a great deal of
good.

"Very well, we'll go to the mountains," said Mr. Roosevelt, and looked
around to learn what place would be best to choose.

Among the Adirondack Mountains of New York State there is a reservation
of ninety-six thousand acres leased by what is called the Adirondack
Club, a wealthy organization of people who have numerous summer
cottages built within the preserve.

Among the members was a Mr. McNaughten, an old friend of the Roosevelt
family, and he suggested that they occupy his cottage until the close of
the season. This invitation was accepted, and the whole Roosevelt family
moved up to the spot, which was located at the foot of Mount Marcy, the
largest of the mountains in that vicinity. Here Mr. Roosevelt spent much
time in hunting and fishing, and also in writing. The family were not
forgotten, and he frequently went out with the whole party, rowing and
exploring. Sometimes they took baskets of lunch with them and had
regular picnics in the woods, something the Roosevelt children enjoyed
very much.

In the meantime the Pan-American Exposition at Buffalo, New York, had
been opened, and day after day it was thronged with visitors.
Vice-President Roosevelt had assisted at the opening, and he was one of
many who hoped the Exposition would be a great success.

At the Exposition our government had a large exhibit, and it was thought
highly proper that President McKinley should visit the ground in his
official capacity and deliver an address. Preparations were accordingly
made, and the address was delivered on September 5 to a most
enthusiastic throng.[3]

[Footnote 3: For this speech in full, and for what happened after it was
delivered, see "American Boys' Life of McKinley."]

On the following day the President was driven to the Temple of Music, on
the Exposition grounds, there to hold a public reception. The crowds
were as great as ever, but perfectly orderly, and filed in at one side
of the building and out at the other, each person in turn being
permitted to grasp the Chief Magistrate's hand.

For a while all went well, and nobody noticed anything unusual about a
somewhat weak-faced individual who joined the crowd, and who had one
hand covered with a handkerchief. As this rascal came up to shake hands,
he raised the hand with the handkerchief and, using a concealed pistol,
fired two shots at President McKinley.

For an instant everybody was dazed. Then followed a commotion, and while
some went to the wounded Executive's assistance, others leaped upon the
dastardly assassin and made him a prisoner.

There was an excellent hospital upon the Exposition grounds, and to this
President McKinley was carried. Here it was found that both bullets had
entered his body, one having struck the breastbone and the other having
entered the abdomen. The physicians present did all they possibly could
for him, and then he was removed to the residence of Mr. Millburn, the
President of the Exposition.

In the meantime, all unconscious of the awful happening that was to have
such an influence upon his future, Mr. Roosevelt had been enjoying
himself with his family, and helping to take care of the children that
were not yet totally recovered from their illness. All seemed to be
progressing finely, and he had gone off on a little tour to Vermont, to
visit some points of interest and deliver a few addresses.

He was at Isle La Motte, not far from Burlington, when the news reached
him that President McKinley had been shot. He had just finished an
address, and for the moment he could not believe the sad news.

"Shot!" he said. "How dreadful!" And could scarcely say another word. He
asked for the latest bulletin, and, forgetful of all else, took the
first train he could get to Buffalo, and then hastened to the side of
his Chief.

It was truly a sad meeting. For many years these two men had known each
other, and they were warm friends. Their methods were somewhat
different, but each stood for what was just and right and true, and each
was ready to give his country his best service, no matter what the cost.

It was a sad time for the whole nation, and men and women watched the
bulletins eagerly, hoping and praying that President McKinley might
recover. Every hour there was some slight change, and people would talk
it over in a whisper.

In a few days there were hopeful signs, and the physicians, deceived by
them, said they thought the President would recover. This was glad news
to Theodore Roosevelt. Yet he lingered on, fearful to go away, lest the
news should prove untrue and he should be needed. But then there was a
still brighter turn, and he thought of his own family, and of the fact
that one of his children was again ill.

"I will return to my family," said he to two of his closest friends.
"But if I am needed here, let me know at once." And his friends promised
to keep him informed. Two days later he was back among the Adirondacks,
in the bosom of his family.

The prayers of a whole nation were in vain. William McKinley's mission
on earth was finished, and one week after he was shot he breathed his
last. His wife came to bid him farewell, and so did his other relatives,
and his friend of many years, Mark Hanna, and the members of his
Cabinet.

"It is God's way," murmured the dying Executive. "His will be done, not
ours." Then like a child going to sleep, he relapsed into
unconsciousness, from which he did not recover. He died September 14,
1901, at a little after two o'clock in the morning.

It was the last of a truly great life. Illustrious men may come and go,
but William McKinley will be remembered so long as our nation endures.
As a soldier and a statesman he gave his best talents to better the
conditions of his fellow-creatures, and to place the United States where
we justly belong, among the truly great nations of the world.




CHAPTER XXIV

THEODORE ROOSEVELT'S TRAMP UP MOUNT MARCY--A MESSAGE OF IMPORTANCE--WILD
MIDNIGHT RIDE THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS--ON THE SPECIAL TRAINS FROM NORTH
CREEK TO BUFFALO


With a somewhat lighter heart, Theodore Roosevelt returned to the
Adirondacks and joined his family on Wednesday, three days previous to
President McKinley's death. The last report he had received from Buffalo
was the most encouraging of any, and he now felt almost certain that the
President would survive the outrageous attack that had been made upon
his person.

"He will get well," said several who lived close by. "You need not worry
about his condition any longer."

On the following day it was planned to go up to Colton Lake, five miles
from where the family was stopping. Some friends went along, and in the
party were Mrs. Roosevelt and several of the children. Two guides
accompanied them, and it was decided to spend the night at a camp on
the lake, returning home the following day.