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Theodore Roosevelt’s

LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN 

By Joseph Bucklin Bishop 

Last section of 6 ends on page 240 

TRIALS OF A TRAVELLING PRESIDENT

On Board U. S. S. _Mississippi_, October 1, 1907.

DEAREST ETHEL:

The first part of my trip up to the time that we embarked on the river
at Keokuk was just about in the ordinary style. I had continually to
rush out to wave at the people at the towns through which the train
passed. If the train stopped anywhere I had to make a very short speech
to several hundred people who evidently thought they liked me, and whom
I really liked, but to whom I had nothing in the world to say. At Canton
and Keokuk I went through the usual solemn festivities--the committee of
reception and the guard of honor, with the open carriage, the lines of
enthusiastic fellow-citizens to whom I bowed continually right and left,
the speech which in each case I thought went off rather better than I
had dared hope--for I felt as if I had spoken myself out. When I got
on the boat, however, times grew easier. I still have to rush out
continually, stand on the front part of the deck, and wave at groups
of people on shore, and at stern-wheel steamboats draped with American
flags and loaded with enthusiastic excursionists. But I have a great
deal of time to myself, and by gentle firmness I think I have succeeded
in impressing on my good hosts that I rather resent allopathic doses of
information about shoals and dykes, the amount of sand per cubic foot of
water, the quantity of manufactures supplied by each river town, etc.

CHANGES OF THREE CENTURIES

On Board U. S. S. _Mississippi_, October 1, 1907.

DEAR KERMIT:

After speaking at Keokuk this morning we got aboard this brand new
stern-wheel steamer of the regular Mississippi type and started
down-stream. I went up on the texas and of course felt an almost
irresistible desire to ask the pilot about Mark Twain. It is a broad,
shallow, muddy river, at places the channel being barely wide enough for
the boat to go through, though to my inexperienced eyes the whole
river looks like a channel. The bottom lands, Illinois on one side
and Missouri on the other, are sometimes over-grown with forests and
sometimes great rich cornfields, with here and there a house, here and
there villages, and now and then a little town. At every such place
all the people of the neighborhood have gathered to greet me. The
water-front of the towns would be filled with a dense packed mass of
men, women, and children, waving flags. The little villages have not
only their own population, but also the farmers who have driven in in
their wagons with their wives and children from a dozen miles back--just
such farmers as came to see you and the cavalry on your march through
Iowa last summer.

It is my first trip on the Mississippi, and I am greatly interested in
it. How wonderful in its rapidity of movement has been the history of
our country, compared with the history of the old world. For untold
ages this river had been flowing through the lonely continent, not very
greatly changed since the close of the Pleistocene. During all these
myriads of years the prairie and the forest came down to its banks.
The immense herds of the buffalo and the elk wandered along them season
after season, and the Indian hunters on foot or in canoes trudged along
the banks or skimmed the water. Probably a thousand years saw no change
that would have been noticeable to our eyes. Then three centuries
ago began the work of change. For a century its effects were not
perceptible. Just nothing but an occasional French fleet or wild half
savage French-Canadian explorer passing up or down the river or one
of its branches in an Indian canoe; then the first faint changes, the
building of one or two little French fur traders' hamlets, the passing
of one or two British officers' boats, and the very rare appearance of
the uncouth American backwoodsman.

Then the change came with a rush. Our settlers reached the head-waters
of the Ohio, and flatboats and keel-boats began to go down to the mouth
of the Mississippi, and the Indians and the game they followed began
their last great march to the west. For ages they had marched back and
forth, but from this march there was never to be a return. Then the day
of steamboat traffic began, and the growth of the first American cities
and states along the river with their strength and their squalor and
their raw pride. Then this mighty steamboat traffic passed its zenith
and collapsed, and for a generation the river towns have dwindled
compared with the towns which took their importance from the growth of
the railroads. I think of it all as I pass down the river.

October 4. . . . We are steaming down the river now between Tennessee
and Arkansas. The forest comes down a little denser to the bank, the
houses do not look quite so well kept; otherwise there is not much
change. There are a dozen steamers accompanying us, filled with
delegates from various river cities. The people are all out on the banks
to greet us still. Moreover, at night, no matter what the hour is that
we pass a town, it is generally illuminated, and sometimes whistles and
noisy greetings, while our steamboats whistle in equally noisy response,
so that our sleep is apt to be broken. Seventeen governors of different
states are along, in a boat by themselves. I have seen a good deal of
them, however, and it has been of real use to me, especially as regards
two or three problems that are up. At St. Louis there was an enormous
multitude of people out to see us. The procession was in a drenching
rain, in which I stood bareheaded, smiling affably and waving my drowned
hat to those hardy members of the crowd who declined to go to shelter.
At Cairo, I was also greeted with great enthusiasm, and I was interested
to find that there was still extreme bitterness felt over Dickens's
description of the town and the people in "Martin Chuzzlewit" sixty-five
years ago.

PECULIARITIES OF MISSISSIPPI STEAMBOATS

On Board U. S. S. _Mississippi_, Oct. 1, 1907.

DEAR ARCHIE:

I am now on what I believe will be my last trip of any consequence while
I am President. Until I got to Keokuk, Iowa, it was about like any other
trip, but it is now pleasant going down the Mississippi, though I admit
that I would rather be at home. We are on a funny, stern-wheel steamer.
Mr. John McIlhenny is with me, and Capt. Seth Bullock among others.
We have seen wild geese and ducks and cormorants on the river, and the
people everywhere come out in boats and throng or cluster on the banks
to greet us.

October 4. You would be greatly amused at these steamboats, and I
think you will like your trip up the Mississippi next spring, if only
everything goes right, and Mother is able to make it. There is no hold
to the boat, just a flat bottom with a deck, and on this deck a foot or
so above the water stands the engine-room, completely open at the sides
and all the machinery visible as you come up to the boat. Both ends are
blunt, and the gangways are drawn up to big cranes. Of course the boats
could not stand any kind of a sea, but here they are very useful, for
they are shallow and do not get hurt when they bump into the bank or one
another. The river runs down in a broad, swirling, brown current, and
nobody but an expert could tell the channel. One pilot or another is up
in the _Texas_ all day long and all night. Now the channel goes close
under one bank, then we have to cross the river and go under the other
bank; then there will come a deep spot when we can go anywhere. Then we
wind in and out among shoals and sand-bars. At night the steamers are
all lighted up, for there are a dozen of them in company with us. It is
nice to look back at them as they twist after us in a long winding line
down the river.

THE LONE CAT OF THE CAMP

Stamboul, La., Oct. 13, 1907.

DARLING QUENTIN:

When we shifted camp we came down here and found a funny little wooden
shanty, put up by some people who now and then come out here and sleep
in it when they fish or shoot. The only living thing around it was a
pussy-cat. She was most friendly and pleasant, and we found that she had
been living here for two years. When people were in the neighborhood,
she would take what scraps she could get, but the rest of the time she
would catch her own game for herself. She was pretty thin when we came,
and has already fattened visibly. She was not in the least disconcerted
by the appearance of the hounds, and none of them paid the slightest
attention to her when she wandered about among them. We are camped on
the edge of a lake. This morning before breakfast I had a good swim in
it, the water being warmer than the air, and this evening I rowed on it
in the moonlight. Every night we hear the great owls hoot and laugh in
uncanny fashion.

Camp on Tenesas Bayou, Oct. 6, 1907.

DARLING ETHEL:

Here we are in camp. It is very picturesque, and as comfortable as
possible. We have a big fly tent for the horses; the hounds sleep with
them, or with the donkeys! There is a white hunter, Ben Lily, who has
just joined us, who is a really remarkable character. He literally lives
in the woods. He joined us early this morning, with one dog. He had
tramped for twenty-four hours through the woods, without food or water,
and had slept a couple of hours in a crooked tree, like a wild turkey.

He has a mild, gentle face, blue eyes, and full beard; he is a religious
fanatic, and is as hardy as a bear or elk, literally caring nothing for
fatigue and exposure, which we couldn't stand at all. He doesn't seem to
consider the 24 hours' trip he has just made, any more than I should
a half hour's walk before breakfast. He quotes the preacher Talmage
continually.

Woodsman with rifle and dog. Drawing BY T. R  

This is a black belt. The people are almost all negroes, curious
creatures, some of them with Indian blood, like those in "Voodoo Tales."
Yesterday we met two little negresses riding one mule, bare-legged, with
a rope bridle.

Two children ridding a mule. Drawing BY T. R  

Tenesas Bayou, Oct. 10, 1907.

BLESSED ARCHIE:

I just loved your letter. I was so glad to hear from you. I was afraid
you would have trouble with your Latin. What a funny little fellow
Opdyke must be; I am glad you like him. How do you get on at football?

We have found no bear. I shot a deer; I sent a picture of it to Kermit.

A small boy here caught several wildcats. When one was in the trap he
would push a box towards it, and it would itself get into it, to hide;
and so he would capture it alive. But one, instead of getting into the box, combed the hair of  the small boy!

Cat scratching a boys hair. Drawing BY T. R  

We have a great many hounds in camp; at night they gaze solemnly into
the fire.

Hounds gazing at a fire. Drawing BY T. R  

Dr. Lambert has caught a good many bass, which we have enjoyed at the
camp table.

The doctor catching a fish. Drawing BY T. R  

Bear Bayou, Oct. 16, 1907.

DARLING ARCHIE:

We have had no luck with the bear; but we have killed as many deer as
we needed for meat, and the hounds caught a wildcat. Our camp is as
comfortable as possible, and we have great camp fires at night.

One of the bear-hunting planters with me told me he once saw a bear,
when overtaken by the hounds, lie down flat on its back with all its
legs stretched out, while the dogs barked furiously all around it.

Suddenly the bear sat up with a jump, and frightened all the dogs so
that they nearly turned back somersaults.

At this camp there is a nice tame pussy-cat which lies out here all the
time, catching birds, mice, or lizards; but very friendly with any party
of hunters which happens along.

P. S.--I have just killed a bear; I have written Kermit about it.

The Bear Plays Dead. Drawing BY T. R  

The Bear Sits up.  Drawing BY T. R  

SHOOTING THE BEAR

In route to Washington, Oct. 22, 1907.

DEAR TED:

"Bad old father" is coming back after a successful trip. It was a
success in every way, including the bear hunt; but in the case of the
bear hunt we only just made it successful and no more, for it was not
until the twelfth day of steady hunting that I got my bear. Then I shot
it in the most approved hunter's style, going up on it in a canebrake
as it made a walking bay before the dogs. I also killed a deer--more by
luck than anything else, as it was a difficult shot.

QUENTIN'S "EXQUISITE JEST"

White House, Jan. 2, 1908.

DEAR ARCHIE:

Friday night Quentin had three friends, including the little Taft
boy, to spend the night with him. They passed an evening and night of
delirious rapture, it being a continuous rough-house save when they
would fall asleep for an hour or two from sheer exhaustion. I interfered
but once, and that was to stop an exquisite jest of Quentin's, which
consisted in procuring sulphureted hydrogen to be used on the other boys
when they got into bed. They played hard, and it made me realize how old
I had grown and how very busy I had been these last few years, to
find that they had grown so that I was not needed in the play. Do you
recollect how we all of us used to play hide-and-go-seek in the White
House? and have obstacle races down the hall when you brought in your
friends?

Mother continues much attached to Scamp, who is certainly a cunning
little dog. He is very affectionate, but so exceedingly busy when we
are out on the grounds, that we only catch glimpses of him zigzagging at
full speed from one end of the place to the other. The kitchen cat and
he have strained relations but have not yet come to open hostility.

White House, Jan. 27, 1908.

DEAR ARCHIE:

Scamp is really a cunning little dog, but he takes such an extremely
keen interest in hunting, and is so active, that when he is out on the
grounds with us we merely catch glimpses of him as he flashes by. The
other night after the Judicial Reception when we went up-stairs to
supper the kitchen cat suddenly appeared parading down the hall with
great friendliness, and was forthwith exiled to her proper home again.

TOM PINCH

White House, February 23, 1908.

DEAREST KERMIT:

I quite agree with you about Tom Pinch. He is a despicable kind of
character; just the kind of character Dickens liked, because he had
himself a thick streak of maudlin sentimentality of the kind that, as
somebody phrased it, "made him wallow naked in the pathetic." It always
interests me about Dickens to think how much first-class work he did and
how almost all of it was mixed up with every kind of cheap, second-rate
matter. I am very fond of him. There are innumerable characters that he
has created which symbolize vices, virtues, follies, and the like almost
as well as the characters in Bunyan; and therefore I think the wise
thing to do is simply to skip the bosh and twaddle and vulgarity and
untruth, and get the benefit out of the rest. Of course one fundamental
difference between Thackeray and Dickens is that Thackeray was a
gentleman and Dickens was not. But a man might do some mighty good work
and not be a gentleman in any sense.

"MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT"

White House, February 29, 1908.

DEAREST KERMIT:

Of course I entirely agree with you about "Martin Chuzzlewit." But the
point seems to me that the preposterous perversion of truth and
the ill-nature and malice of the book are of consequence chiefly
as indicating Dickens' own character, about which I care not a rap;
whereas, the characters in American shortcomings and vices and follies
as typified are immortal, and, moreover, can be studied with great
profit by all of us to-day. Dickens was an ill-natured, selfish cad and
boor, who had no understanding of what the word gentleman meant, and no
appreciation of hospitality or good treatment. He was utterly incapable
of seeing the high purpose and the real greatness which (in spite of the
presence also of much that was bad or vile) could have been visible all
around him here in America to any man whose vision was both keen and
lofty. He could not see the qualities of the young men growing up here,
though it was these qualities that enabled these men to conquer the West
and to fight to a finish the great Civil War, and though they were to
produce leadership like that of Lincoln, Lee, and Grant. Naturally
he would think there was no gentleman in New York, because by no
possibility could he have recognized a gentleman if he had met one.
Naturally he would condemn all America because he had not the soul
to see what America was really doing. But he was in his element in
describing with bitter truthfulness Scadder and Jefferson Brick, and
Elijah Pogram, and Hannibal Chollup, and Mrs. Hominy and the various
other characters, great and small, that have always made me enjoy
"Martin Chuzzlewit." Most of these characters we still have with us.

GOOD READING FOR PACIFISTS

March 4, 1908.

DEAREST KERMIT:

You have recently been writing me about Dickens. Senator Lodge gave
me the following first-class quotation from a piece by Dickens about
"Proposals for Amusing Posterity":

"And I would suggest that if a body of gentlemen possessing their full
phrenological share of the combative and antagonistic organs, could only
be induced to form themselves into a society for Declaiming about Peace,
with a very considerable war-whoop against all non-declaimers; and
if they could only be prevailed upon to sum up eloquently the many
unspeakable miseries and horrors of War, and to present them to their
own country as a conclusive reason for its being undefended against
War, and becoming a prey of the first despot who might choose to inflict
those miseries and horrors--why then I really believe we should have
got to the very best joke we could hope to have in our whole Complete
Jest-Book for Posterity and might fold our arms and rest convinced that
we had done enough for that discerning Patriarch's amusement."

This ought to be read before all the tomfool peace societies and
anti-imperialist societies of the present-day.

QUENTIN AS A BALL-PLAYER

White House, March 8, 1908.

DEAREST ARCHIE:

Yesterday morning Quentin brought down all his Force School baseball
nine to practise on the White House grounds. It was great fun to see
them, and Quentin made a run. It reminded me of when you used to come
down with the Friend's School eleven. Moreover, I was reminded of the
occasional rows in the eleven by an outburst in connection with the
nine which resulted in their putting off of it a small boy who Quentin
assured me was the "meanest kid in town." I like to see Quentin
practising baseball. It gives me hopes that one of my boys will not
take after his father in this respect, and will prove able to play the
national game!

Ethel has a delightful new dog--a white bull terrier--not much more than
a puppy as yet. She has named it Mike and it seems very affectionate.
Scamp is really an extraordinary ratter, and kills a great many rats
in the White House, in the cellars and on the lower floor and among the
machinery. He is really a very nice little dog.

White House, March 15, 1908.

DEAREST ARCHIE:

Quentin is now taking a great interest in baseball. Yesterday the Force
School nine, on which he plays second base, played the P Street nine
on the White House grounds where Quentin has marked out a diamond. The
Force School nine was victorious by a score of 22 to 5. I told Quentin I
was afraid the P Street boys must have felt badly and he answered, "Oh,
I guess not; you see I filled them up with lemonade afterward!"

Charlie Taft is on his nine.

Did you hear of the dreadful time Ethel had with her new bull terrier,
Mike? She was out riding with Fitz Lee, who was on Roswell, and Mike
was following. They suppose that Fidelity must have accidentally kicked
Mike. The first they knew the bulldog sprang at the little mare's
throat. She fought pluckily, rearing and plunging, and shook him off,
and then Ethel galloped away. As soon as she halted, Mike overtook her
and attacked Fidelity again. He seized her by the shoulder and tried to
seize her by the throat, and twice Ethel had to break away and
gallop off, Fitz Lee endeavoring in vain to catch the dog. Finally he
succeeded, just as Mike had got Fidelity by the hock. He had to give
Mike a tremendous beating to restore him to obedience; but of course
Mike will have to be disposed of. Fidelity was bitten in several places
and it was a wonder that Ethel was able to keep her seat, because
naturally the frightened little mare reared and plunged and ran.

FOUR SHEEPISH SMALL BOYS

White House, April 11, 1908.

DEAREST ARCHIE:

Ethel has bought on trial an eight-months bulldog pup. He is very
cunning, very friendly, and wriggles all over in a frantic desire to be
petted.

Quentin really seems to be getting on pretty well with his baseball. In
each of the last two games he made a base hit and a run. I have just
had to give him and three of his associates a dressing down--one of the
three being Charlie Taft. Yesterday afternoon was rainy, and four of
them played five hours inside the White House. They were very boisterous
and were all the time on the verge of mischief, and finally they
made spit-balls and deliberately put them on the portraits. I did not
discover it until after dinner, and then pulled Quentin out of bed and
had him take them all off the portraits, and this morning required him
to bring in the three other culprits before me. I explained to them that
they had acted like boors; that it would have been a disgrace to have
behaved so in any gentleman's house; that Quentin could have no friend
to see him, and the other three could not come inside the White House,
until I felt that a sufficient time had elapsed to serve as punishment.
They were four very sheepish small boys when I got through with them.

JOHN BURROUGHS AND THE FLYING SQUIRRELS

White House, May 10, 1908.

DEAREST ARCHIE:

Mother and I had great fun at Pine Knot. Mr. Burroughs, whom I call Oom
John, was with us and we greatly enjoyed having him. But one night he
fell into great disgrace! The flying squirrels that were there last
Christmas had raised a brood, having built a large nest inside of the
room in which you used to sleep and in which John Burroughs slept. Of
course they held high carnival at night-time. Mother and I do not mind
them at all, and indeed rather like to hear them scrambling about, and
then as a sequel to a sudden frantic fight between two of them, hearing
or seeing one little fellow come plump down to the floor and scuttle
off again to the wall. But one night they waked up John Burroughs and he
spent a misguided hour hunting for the nest, and when he found it took
it down and caught two of the young squirrels and put them in a basket.
The next day under Mother's direction I took them out, getting my
fingers somewhat bitten in the process, and loosed them in our room,
where we had previously put back the nest. I do not think John Burroughs
profited by his misconduct, because the squirrels were more active than
ever that night both in his room and ours, the disturbance in their
family affairs having evidently made them restless!

BEAUTY OF WHITE HOUSE GROUNDS

White House, May 17, 1908.

DEAREST ARCHIE:

Quentin is really doing pretty well with his baseball, and he is
perfectly absorbed in it. He now occasionally makes a base hit if the
opposing pitcher is very bad; and his nine wins more than one-half of
its games.

The grounds are too lovely for anything, and spring is here, or
rather early summer, in full force. Mother's flower-gardens are now as
beautiful as possible, and the iron railings of the fences south of
them are covered with clematis and roses in bloom. The trees are in full
foliage and the grass brilliant green, and my friends, the warblers, are
trooping to the north in full force.

QUENTIN AND A BEEHIVE

White House, May 30, 1908.

DEAREST ARCHIE:

Quentin has met with many adventures this week; in spite of the fact
that he has had a bad cough which has tended to interrupt the variety of
his career. He has become greatly interested in bees, and the other day
started down to get a beehive from somewhere, being accompanied by a
mongrel looking small boy as to whose name I inquired. When repeated by
Quentin it was obviously an Italian name. I asked who he was and Quentin
responded: "Oh, his father keeps a fruit-stand." However, they got their
bees all right and Quentin took the hive up to a school exhibit.
There some of the bees got out and were left behind ("Poor homeless
miserables," as Quentin remarked of them), and yesterday they at
intervals added great zest to life in the classroom. The hive now
reposes in the garden and Scamp surveys it for hours at a time with
absorbed interest. After a while he will get to investigating it, and
then he will find out more than he expects to.

This afternoon Quentin was not allowed to play ball because of his
cough, so he was keeping the score when a foul tip caught him in the
eye. It was quite a bad blow, but Quentin was very plucky about it and
declined to go in until the game was finished, an hour or so later.
By that time his eye had completely shut up and he now has a most
magnificent bandage around his head over that eye, and feels much like
a baseball hero. I came in after dinner to take a look at him and to my
immense amusement found that he was lying flat on his back in bed saying
his prayers, while Mademoiselle was kneeling down. It took me a moment
or two to grasp the fact that good Mademoiselle wished to impress on him
that it was not right to say his prayers unless he knelt down, and as
that in this case he could not kneel down she would do it in his place!

QUENTIN AND TURNER

(To Mrs. Nicholas Longworth, Cincinnati, Ohio)

Oyster Bay, June 29, 1908.

. . . . .

Quentin is really too funny for anything. He got his legs fearfully
sunburned the other day, and they blistered, became inflamed, and
ever-faithful Mother had to hold a clinic on him. Eyeing his blistered
and scarlet legs, he remarked, "They look like a Turner sunset, don't
they?" And then, after a pause, "I won't be caught again this way! quoth
the raven, 'Nevermore!'" I was not surprised at his quoting Poe, but I
would like to know where the ten-year-old scamp picked up any knowledge
of Turner's sunsets.

QUENTIN AND THE PIG

White House, October 17, 1908.

DEAREST KERMIT:

. . . . .

Quentin performed a characteristic feat yesterday. He heard that
Schmidt, the animal man, wanted a small pig, and decided that he would
turn an honest penny by supplying the want. So out in the neighborhood
of his school he called on an elderly darkey who, he had seen, possessed
little pigs; bought one; popped it into a bag; astutely dodged the
school--having a well-founded distrust of how the boys would feel toward
his passage with the pig--and took the car for home. By that time the
pig had freed itself from the bag, and, as he explained, he journeyed in
with a "small squealish pig" under his arm; but as the conductor was a
friend of his he was not put off. He bought it for a dollar and sold it
to Schmidt for a dollar and a quarter, and feels as if he had found a
permanent line of business. Schmidt then festooned it in red ribbons and
sent it to parade the streets. I gather that Quentin led it around for
part of the parade, but he was somewhat vague on this point, evidently
being a little uncertain as to our approval of the move.

A PRESIDENTIAL FALL

White House, Nov. 8, 1908.

DEAREST ARCHIE:

Quentin is getting along very well; he plays centre on his football
eleven, and in a match for juniors in tennis he got into the
semi-finals. What is more important, he seems to be doing very well
with his studies, and to get on well with the boys, and is evidently
beginning to like the school. He has shown himself very manly. Kermit is
home now, and is a perfect dear.

The other day while taking a scramble walk over Rock Creek, when I came
to that smooth-face of rock which we get round by holding on to the
little bit of knob that we call the Button, the top of this button
came off between my thumb and forefinger. I hadn't supposed that I was
putting much weight on it, but evidently I was, for I promptly lost my
balance, and finding I was falling, I sprang out into the creek. There
were big rocks in it, and the water was rather shallow, but I landed all
right and didn't hurt myself the least bit in the world.

MORE ABOUT QUENTIN

White House, Nov. 22, 1908.

DEAREST ARCHIE:

I handed your note and the two dollar bill to Quentin, and he was
perfectly delighted. It came in very handy, because poor Quentin has
been in bed with his leg in a plaster cast, and the two dollars I think
went to make up a fund with which he purchased a fascinating little
steam-engine, which has been a great source of amusement to him. He is
out to-day visiting some friends, although his leg is still in a cast.
He has a great turn for mechanics.

White House, Nov. 27, 1908.

BLESSED ARCHIE:

It is fine to hear from you and to know you are having a good time.
Quentin, I am happy to say, is now thoroughly devoted to his school. He
feels that he is a real Episcopal High School boy, and takes the keenest
interest in everything. Yesterday, Thanksgiving Day, he had various
friends here. His leg was out of plaster and there was nothing he did
not do. He roller-skated; he practised football; he had engineering work
and electrical work; he went all around the city; he romped all over
the White House; he went to the slaughter-house and got a pig for
Thanksgiving dinner.

Ethel is perfectly devoted to Ace, who adores her. The other day he
was lost for a little while; he had gone off on a side street and
unfortunately saw a cat in a stable and rushed in and killed it, and
they had him tied up there when one of our men found him.

In a way I know that Mother misses Scamp, but in another way she does
not, for now all the squirrels are very tame and cunning and are hopping
about the lawn and down on the paths all the time, so that we see them
whenever we walk, and they are not in the least afraid of us.

White House, Dec. 3, 1908.

DEAREST ARCHIE:

I have a very strong presentiment that Santa Claus will not forget that
watch! Quentin went out shooting with Dr. Rixey on Monday and killed
three rabbits, which I think was pretty good. He came back very dirty
and very triumphant, and Mother, feeling just as triumphant, brought
him promptly over with his gun and his three rabbits to see me in the
office. On most days now he rides out to school, usually on Achilles.
Very shortly he will begin to spend his nights at the school, however.
He has become sincerely attached to the school, and at the moment thinks
he would rather stay there than go to Groton; but this is a thought
he will get over--with Mother's active assistance. He has all kinds of
friends, including some who are on a hockey team with him here in the
city. The hockey team apparently plays hockey now and then, but only
very occasionally, and spends most of the time disciplining its own
members.

TRIBUTE TO KERMIT

In 1909, after retiring from the Presidency, Colonel Roosevelt went on a
hunting trip in Africa, writing as usual to his children while away.

On the 'Nzor River, Nov. 13, 1909.

DARLING ETHEL:

Here we are, by a real tropical river, with game all around, and no
human being within several days' journey. At night the hyenas come round
the camp, uttering their queer howls; and once or twice we have heard
lions; but unfortunately have never seen them. Kermit killed a leopard
yesterday. He has really done so very well! It is rare for a boy with
his refined tastes and his genuine appreciation of literature--and of so
much else--to be also an exceptionally bold and hardy sportsman. He is
still altogether too reckless; but by my hen-with-one-chicken attitude,
I think I shall get him out of Africa uninjured; and his keenness, cool
nerve, horsemanship, hardihood, endurance, and good eyesight make him
a really good wilderness hunter. We have become genuinely attached to
Cunninghame and Tarleton, and all three naturalists, especially Heller;
and also to our funny black attendants. The porters always amuse us; at
this moment about thirty of them are bringing in the wood for the camp
fires, which burn all night; and they are all chanting in chorus, the
chant being nothing but the words "_Wood_--plenty of wood to burn!"

A Merry Christmas to you! And to Archie and Quentin. How I wish I were
to be with you all, no matter how cold it might be at Sagamore; but I
suppose we shall be sweltering under mosquito nets in Uganda.

LONGING FOR HOME

Campalla, Dec. 23, 1909.

BLESSEDEST ETHELY-BYE:

Here we are, the most wise Bavian--particularly nice--and the Elderly
Parent, on the last stage of their journey. I am enjoying it all, but
I think Kermit regards me as a little soft, because I am so eagerly
looking forward to the end, when I shall see darling, pretty Mother, my
own sweetheart, and the very nicest of all nice daughters--you blessed
girlie. Do you remember when you explained, with some asperity, that of
course you wished Ted were at home, because you didn't have anybody as
a really intimate companion, whereas Mother had "old Father"? It is a
great comfort to have a daughter to whom I can write about all kinds of
intimate things!

This is a most interesting place. We crossed the great Nyanza Lake, in a
comfortable steamer, in 24 hours, seeing a lovely sunset across the vast
expanse of waters; and the moonlight later was as lovely. Here it is as
hot as one would expect directly on the Equator, and the brilliant green
landscape is fairly painted with even more brilliant flowers, on trees,
bush, and vines; while the strange, semi-civilized people are most
interesting. The queer little king's Prime Minister, an exceedingly
competent, gorgeously dressed, black man, reminds Kermit of a rather
civilized Umslopagaar--if that is the way you spell Rider Haggard's Zulu
hero.

In this little native town we are driven round in rickshaws, each
with four men pushing and pulling, who utter a queer, clanging note of
exclamation in chorus, every few seconds, hour after hour.

THE LAST HUNT

Gondokoro, Feb. 27, 1910.

DEAREST ARCHIE:

Here, much to my pleasure, I find your letter written after the
snow-storm at Sagamore. No snow here! On two or three days the
thermometer at noon has stood at 115 degrees in the shade. All three
naturalists and Mr. Cunninghame, the guide, have been sick, and so
Kermit and I made our last hunt alone, going for eight days into the
Lado. We were very successful, getting among other things three giant
eland, which are great prizes. We worked hard; Kermit of course worked
hardest, for he is really a first-class walker and runner; I had to go
slowly, but I kept at it all day and every day. Kermit has really become
not only an excellent hunter but also a responsible and trustworthy man,
fit to lead; he managed the whole caravan and after hunting all day he
would sit up half the night taking care of the skins. He is also
the nicest possible companion. We are both very much attached to our
gun-bearers and tent boys, and will be sorry to part with them.

QUENTIN GROWN-UP

New York, Dec. 23, 1911.

DEAR ARCHIE:

Quentin turned up last night. He is half an inch taller than I am, and
is in great shape. He is much less fat than he was, and seems to be
turning out right in every way. I was amused to have him sit down and
play the piano pretty well. We miss you dreadfully now that Christmas
has come. The family went into revolt about my slouch hat, which Quentin
christened "Old Mizzoura," and so I have had to buy another with a less
pronounced crown and brim. We all drank your good health at dinner.
The End

A concluding word from Robert J. Kuniegel

TR AMERICAN PATRIOT hopes you enjoy our books.  Theodore Roosevelt lived his life in a manner that is the only way possible to make government responsive to the people.  He has written how to make meaningful reform possible not only for his generation but for future generations, if we read what he has said.  We only need to interest others in reading what he has said to transform our government. 

Reading the books on TR AMERICAN PATRIOT DOT COM  and having others do the same, will develop citizens and leaders capable of transforming American politics into a system of government that will be honest, and responsive to “a square deal”.  A square deal has no special deals for the rich, the middle class, or the poor.  Our government today has degenerated into a system that rewards citizens for not being productive.  It promotes entitlements under the guise of helping people, when in fact it only helps politicians to protect their own royal positions.  Policies that foster a special privileged class was the type of government policies Theodore Roosevelt fought against and won.  He was a visionary.  He knew this fight would need to be fought through the ages if we were to keep our country strong.  He was an intrepid pioneer that blazed a trail through a jungle of corrupt government, so that others might follow his proven and highly successful common sense approach toward honest government.  His fearless course helped make America a beacon of hope to all that seek justice.  His endless devotion to America helped make America a super power that no just nation has needed to fear as long as our citizens value his lofty resolute square deal policy toward our fellow citizens and those of other nations. 

Theodore Roosevelt’s greatest gift to this country is before us.  It is not in the past, if we as Americans recognize that his message is not just a story from American history pages.  His message is an example, clearly defined.  It details actions that are required if we desire to do something meaningful for our country.  Join the good fight today.  You only need to read and interest others to do the same.  

David Boyd, repeating what he had read, once said, “The person we become is because of our experiences in life, the people we meet, and the books we read. ” It is time to have others meet Theodore Roosevelt.  It is time for a Theodore Roosevelt revival, “Fear God and do your own part”.  Dare to help make Theodore Roosevelt the standard and not the exception.  America needs to adopt a wise, fearless and honest role model as the standard we revere, so that our public servants know what we expect.  The first step to honest government is no harder than setting proper standards of conduct for our public servants through the use of a proper role model.  Can you find one quality in Theodore Roosevelt that is not right in a public servant?  If you think you can, I bet your conjecture is based upon something other than truth and honest reasoning and this American would love an opportunity to debate any such conjecture.