And so, as is now well known to history, the Kansas delegation and other like delegations had their way. Mr. Platt and Mr. Odell thought _they_ had _their_ way too, and at one of the most exciting conventions at which I have ever been present--dominated in masterful fashion by the unique personality of Mark Hanna--Theodore Roosevelt was made the nominee for the second place on the ticket of the Republican party of 1900. One little incident occurred the next morning which I have always felt had a certain prophetic quality about it. An article appeared in one of the Philadelphia papers, signed by that inimitable humorist, the brilliant philosopher, Peter Dunne, alias “Mr. Dooley.” I wish I could find the article--I kept it for a long while--but this is about the way it ran: “Tiddy Rosenfeldt came to the Convintion in his Rough Rider suit and his sombrero hat and his khaki clothes, trying to look as inconspichuous as possible, and as soon as he got there Platt fill on his chist and Odell sat on his stummick and they tried to crush him and squeeze the life out of him. And they _think_ they have done it, and perhaps they have, but, Hinnessey, they needn’t be quite so sure, for Tiddy Rosenfeldt will get somewhere no matter what happens, _even though the path lies through the cimitery!_” Whether “Mr. Dooley” simply meant that as vice-presidents had always been supposed to be dead men as far as future preferment was concerned, or whether, with prophetic touch, he visualized the horror that was to come, and the way in which Theodore Roosevelt’s path to a higher position actually did lie “through the cemetery,” I know not, but those were approximately the very words which appeared in that Philadelphia newspaper the morning after Roosevelt was nominated as candidate for vice-president on the McKinley ticket.