The Rough Rider Storms the Capitol 183
the night was going to justify our highest expectations. Arriv
ing at the hall, one old man with a long gray beard, sitting in
the front seat, was apparently the total of the great audience
that had been promised. My brother and I waited in the little room near the platform, anxiously peering out every now and then, hoping that the hall would soon be filled to overflowing, but no one came, and after an hour and a half of disheartening disappointment, we shook hands warmly with the faithful elderly adherent-who had remained silently in his seat during this period of waiting-and left the hall. My brother, in spite of distinct distress of mind, turned laughingly to me as we walked rapidly away and said, quoting from Maria Edgeworth's immortal pages: "Little Rosamund's day of misfortunes!" The next day the morning newspapers announced that the evening newspapers had given the misinformation that the Republican candidate for governor would not be able to return from the Troy fair in time for the colored meeting, an announcement which had so discouraged the colored folk that only one old man had been true to his colors !
From that day on, through the strenuous campaign, my brother was known by the family entirely as "Little Rosamund."
Another evening comes back to my mind. My husband and my brother had left me in my country home on the hill at Orange, and they were
supposed. to return at eleven o'clock that night. The last train arrived and my carriage returned from it empty. I was worried, for they were so thoughtful that I felt they would surely have telephoned to relieve my possible anxiety, and when at twelve o'clock the telephone-bell rang, I ran to the instrument expecting to hear a familiar voice, instead of which "I am a World reporter" was what I heard, "and I would like to know where Colonel Roosevelt and Mr. Douglas Robinson are." "I cannot give you any information," I replied discreetly, and more truthfully than usual, I confess. "It is very strange," said the voice-a distant unknown voice at twelve o'clock at night, when you are the sole occupant of a remote country