168   My Brother Theodore Roosevelt

tleness of spirit wherever gentleness of spirit was needed in the hard days to come. There was a poem written at that time, "The Yankee Dude'll Do," and I remember the little thrill with which I read it, realizing how the names that up to that time had been connected with rather gay and useless lives became bywords for hard, persistent work "to make" good in the various companies.

Theodore himself writes to me on June 7 in camp near Tampa, Florida:

"First Regiment, U. S. Volunteer Cavalry.

"We are on the point of embarking for Cuba. Yesterday I thought I was going to be left, and would have to stay on this side during the first expedition for they intended to take but four troops. Now, however, they intend to take eight, and unless the transports give out, I shall go. I need not say how rejoiced I am, for I could not help feeling very bitterly when it seemed that I would be left. This really is a fine regiment, and Count Von Goetzen and Capt. Lee, the German and English Military Attaches, watched our gun drill yesterday in camp with General Sumner, and all three expressed what seemed to be sincere astonishment and pleasure at the rapidity with which we had got the men into shape. I wish you could see how melancholy the four troops that remain behind feel; it is very hard on them. I had the last two squadrons under my care on the harassing journey on the cars and it was no slight labor. How I would like to have Douglas as an officer in this regiment with me. He would take to it just as I do.

" Well, if our hopes are realized, we sail tomorrow for Cuba, but nobody can tell how many of us will get back, and I don't suppose there is much glory ahead, but I hope and believe we shall do our duty, and the home-coming will be very very pleasant for those who do come home."

How my heart ached as I read those last words and realized that the chances, in all probability, were strongly against his coming home again.

Cowboy and Clubman   169

On June 12:

DARLING CORINNE:   On board U. S. Transport Yucatan.

I suppose it is simply the ordinary fortune of war for the most irritating delays to happen, but it seems to me that the people at Washington are inexcusable for putting us aboard ship and keeping us crowded to suffocation on these transports for six days in Tampa Harbor, in a semi-tropical sun. The men take it with great resolution and good humour, but if we are kept here much longer, it cannot fail to have a bad effect upon them. We have been dismounted, but I care nothing for that if only we are sent, and given a chance to get into the game. I wish you could see or could have seen us at some of the crises when, for instance, we spent all night standing up opposite a railway track, waiting for a train to come, and finally taking coal cars in the morning.

On the 14th he writes to my husband:

"We are about to sail and as we are at the mouth of the harbor, it is hardly likely that we can be recalled.... It has been most interesting even when the work was irritating and full of worry. The regiment is a wonderful body of men and they have taken to discipline with astonishing readiness and are wild with eager enthusiasm. Those of us who come out of it safe will be bound together all our lives by a very strong tie. You may rest assured I haven't the slightest idea of taking any risk I don't feel I absolutely must take."

There was no doubt of the strong tie that bound the Rough Riders, as they were later called, together. We always teased my brother when, as President, he would suddenly announce that "Happy Jack of Arizonia," or some such erstwhile comrade, was eminently fitted for a position for which the aforesaid "Happy Jack" did not seem to have strong qualifications. How they loved their leader, and how that love was returned ! Whenever my brother spoke of his "regiment" a note of tenderness