One of the most extraordinary things about my brother was that in the midst of his full political life, a life “pressed down and overflowing,” he still had time for the most loving interest in personal family matters. Just after the great moment of his inauguration, he sent me a number of photographs of my eldest son and his young wife, just married, who had gone around the world and were staying with General Wood in the Philippines, and adds in the letter: “It was such a pleasure to have Douglas and you down here for the inauguration, and to see the boys and Corinne.” In June of that same year, when my two younger boys had each won a boat-race at St. Paul’s School, he takes a moment from his pressing duties to write another letter: “Darling Corinne: Good for Monroe and Stewart! Give them my hearty congratulations; I have only time for this line.” Such unusual thoughtfulness could not fail to keep burning perpetually the steady fire of my love for him. In July, 1905, he sent me one of the inauguration medals signed by Saint-Gaudens. In looking at the head upon that medal, one realized perfectly by the strong lines of temple and forehead that Theodore Roosevelt had come to the fulness of his intellectual powers. About the same time there was a naval review at Oyster Bay, and Mrs. Roosevelt writes: “The review was a wonderful sight. I wish you could have been here. The morning was dark and stormy, with showers of driving rain, until Theodore’s flag broke out from the _Mayflower_, when the clouds suddenly dispersed and the sun shone brightly.” How often we used to feel that the sun always broke out when Theodore’s flag flew! One other little line from his pen, December 19, 1905, shows the same constant thoughtfulness. He says: “Will you send the enclosed note to Dora? I am not sure of her address. I hate to trouble you, but I want to have poor ‘Dolly’ get it by Christmas Day.” Dora was his old, childhood nurse, one to whom we were very much devoted, and whom he never forgot.