322   My Brother Theodore Roosevelt

Roosevelt on America's crisis would ring from coast to coast.

. . The undersigned suggest Cooper Union as the place. . . ."

The signatures included many of the most distinguished citizens of the various States of America. My brother accepted this call to duty, although he had hoped to speak but little after his exhausting campaign in the West. I regret to say that I was not present at that meeting, at which, from what I have heard, he spoke with a conviction and a spiritual intensity rare even in him. The speech was called "The Soul of the Nation."

With burning words Theodore Roosevelt tried to arouse the nation's soul; with phrases hot from a heart on fire he portrayed the place we should take by the side of the countries who were fighting for the hope of the world, but the ears of the people were closed to all but the words that we had been kept "out of war." The day of the Lord was not yet at hand.

XVII I

WAR

Thou gayest to party strife the epic note; And to debate the thunder of the Lord;

To meanest issues fire of the Most High. Hence eyes that ne'er beheld thee now are dim,

And alien men on alien shores lament.

E -Stephen Phillips on Gladstone. LECTION DAY, 1916, dawned with the apparent success of the Republican party at the polls, but it eventually

proved that the slogan, "He kept us out of war," had had its way, and that the Democrats were returned to power.

Needless to say, the disappointment both to the followers of Charles E. Hughes and of Theodore Roosevelt was keen beyond words. My brother, however, following his usual philosophy, set himself to work harder than ever to arouse his countrymen to the true appreciation of the fact that, with Europe aflame, America could hardly long remain out of the conflagration.

During the following winter, however, in spite of the great cloud that hung over the whole world, in spite of the intimate knowledge that we all shared that neither would we nor could we avoid the horror that was to come, occasionally there would be brief moments of old-time gaiety in our family life, little intervals of happy companionship, oases in the desert of an apprehension that was in itself prophetic. I remember saying to my brother one day: "Theodore, you know that I belong to the Poetry Society of America, and a great many of its members wish to meet you. I have really been very considerate of you, and although this wish has been frequently expressed for some years in the

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