entation of the situation and, after reading over the rough draft to the other commanders, submitted it to Gen. Shafter. Directly afterward a circular letter was prepared and signed by all the generals and commanding officers and presented to Gen. Shafter. This came to be known as "the round robin," and its result was instantaneous. Both letters, Col. Roosevelt's and the round robin, were published throughout the United States and created a profound sensation. Within three days after they had been delivered to Gen. Shafter the order for the return of the army was issued.

The Rough Riders with their colonel returned to Camp Wikoff, at the northern extremity of Long Island, in late August, and on September 15, 1898, were mustered out of the service with Col. Roosevelt.

The campaign for the control of New York state in the approaching election of a governor had already begun when the Rough Riders returned from Cuba. Col. Roosevelt's name had often been mentioned for the Republican nomination and the popular enthusiasm for this selection was supported by the leaders of the party in the state. Gov. Frank S. Black had been elected by an enormous plurality two years previously, and according to all traditions should have been renominated. He was set aside, however, for the new hero, and the convention at Saratoga nominated Col. Roosevelt with a hurrah. The friends of Gov. Black had fought bitterly so long as there seemed a chance for success, and they started the rumor that Col. Roosevelt was ineligible for the nomination, as he had relinquished his residence in New York when he went to Washington to enter the Navy Department.

The actual campaign was a most picturesque one. B. B. Odell, chairman of the state committee and now governor, was opposed to Col. Roosevelt stumping the state in his own canvass, but it soon became apparent that general apathy existed, and consent was reluctantly given to the candidate to do so. There followed a series of speeches that woke up the voters. Col. Roosevelt, by nature forceful, direct and theatrical in his manner and method, went back and forward, up and down New York, accompanied by a few of his Rough Riders in their uniforms. These cowboys made speeches, telling, usually, how much they thought of their colonel, and the tour met with success. Col. Roosevelt was elected governor

over Augustus Van Wyck, the Democratic candidate, by a plurality of about 17,000.

Among the achievements of Governor Roosevelt as chief executive of the Empire State were the enforcement of the law to tax corporations, which had been passed at a special session of the legislature called by the governor for that purpose; making the Erie Canal Commission non-partisan; his aid to the tenement commission in their work for the betterment of the poor in New York, and in breaking up the sweat shops through rigid enforcement of the factory law.

Theodore Roosevelt, as governor of New York, continued to keep in the public eye, as he had always done in every other position he had held from the day of his election to the legislature of his native state. In the spring of 1900, on the approach of the Republican National Convention, his name was the most often spoken of in connection with the second place on the national ticket. The convention met June 19 in Philadelphia, and it was soon made known that Colonel Roosevelt was the choice of the convention.

In the campaign that followed with its issues and its personalities the figure of Roosevelt looms prominently into the picture which memory paints. He gave to the otherwise dull and spiritless contest the little exhilaration which it possessed. He stood shoulder to shoulder with McKinley in the public eye. He leaped into the glad embrace of cow-punchers in Montana, he wrestled with rowdies in Colorado, he swept through the Middle West theatrically attended by processions of amateur rough riders. He was the picturesque feature of the campaign. His slouch hat, his eyeglasses, his prominent front teeth, were in universal evidence, either in friendly portrait or hostile cartoon. He made numerous speeches in his impulsive way, always plunging ahead and fearing neither the world, the flesh, nor the devil. What he said does not so much matter now. It was the way in which he said it that fastened his picture indelibly upon the minds of those who basked beneath his expansive smile.

Out of the clouds of misconception and the false impressions thrown about this picturesque figure by the cartoonists and the paragraphers, more interested in sensationalism than in reality, there suddenly emerges this intensely earnest, patriotic, humanity-loving, non-sectional American, this prac

tical idealist, to become ruler of the greatest country in the world.

By the tragic death of William McKinley on Saturday morning, September 14, 1901, Theodore Roosevelt succeeded to the high office of President of the United States, and is the youngest man ever inducted into that office. No one doubted either his fitness or his willingness to accept the responsibilities of policy and administration which his oath of office imposed upon him. His declaration of policy was simple and direct: "I shall continue absolutely unbroken the policy of President McKinley for the peace, prosperity, and honor of our beloved country." How well and with what fidelity this declaration has been followed is so obvious that it needs no exposition.

The lamented President McKinley, so foully murdered and so universally mourned, was probably the last of our presidents who had participated in the Civil War. Standing at the threshold of a new century, President Roosevelt seems to mark the dawn of a new era in our public life. His military record belongs to the whole country, even more so than the military records of our presidents who had served in the War of 1812 and the Mexican War; for those wars had both sectional and political opposition. The country during the Spanish War was united as never before in its history, and it is among the greatest of President McKinley's achievements that during that war he contributed so materially to the obliteration of sectional and political differences.

Most of our presidents have been well fitted for the work they had to do, but no president has had the forcefulness and ability, combined with education and varied training and experience, of the present chief executive.

Theodore Roosevelt is one of the interesting personalities of our day and generation. He is a picturesque figure, and was so before the Rough Rider uniform and hat existed, and would be even if he had never worn them. Within him was a vital spark that has flamed into perfect physical vigor. His characteristic is force. This is the central quality. But with this are an honest mind, right motives, readiness and directness in speech, frankness and courage, and high ideals of public and private duty and service. It could not be otherwise than that such a man should not only fill the popular eye, but

command the popular favor. The people like a bold man, a square man, a strong man, and they know instinctively that he is all these.

DECISION AND ENERGY OF CHARACTER.

'HE elements of success lock and interlock; it is difficult to separate them-to tell where one ends and another begins so it is with decision; it is involved in the operation of other qualities. Yet it has a character of its own. It was the spirit of our fathers when they arose to cast off the British yoke, and adopted the Declaration of Independence.

Patrick Henry voiced it in the convention of Virginia in that impassioned speech in which he said :

"If we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight. I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us. It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry 'Peace, peace!' but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen would have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death."

John Foster cites an example of decision of character worthy of our study :

A young Englishman inherited a vast estate just when his wild nature was yielding to dissipation. The great legacy served only to hasten his progress to ruin. Within a few years the last dollar of his patrimony was spent, and poverty and degradation stared him in the face.

One day, in his deep despair, he rushed out of the house resolved to take his own life in the field yonder. Reaching an eminence that overlooked the estates which had passed out of his hands, he stopped, entranced by the splendid panorama that spread out before him, and finally sat down to reflect.