In October that year my volume of poems called by the title of its first poem, “The Call of Brotherhood,” was published, and my brother writes me at once, though in the midst of pressing duties: “I love ‘The Call of Brotherhood’; somehow it seems to express just what we are now battling for in the political arena. Well, the feeling, the longing, the desire, the determination you have made throb in these poems, also make it impossible for us to sit in fat content and not strive for better things in _actual life_. When we felt rather inarticulately just what you have written, we simply couldn’t refrain from the effort [he refers to the Progressive Party] as a practical means to realize high ideals. That is what we must do with high ideals,--apply them and try to live up to them, and to make them work.--Joe and Teddy have done wonderful work; and so has Douglas.... I seem to have cost my friends much in all kinds of ways in this campaign; that was one of the reasons why I so hated to go into it.” Many people misjudged his motives and thought that he went into it for selfish purposes; never was there a more mistaken conception of the actions of a patriot. In a letter written September 1, he says: “I am just leaving for the West. It has been a very interesting fight, and never was there a fight better worth making, but the exertion is tremendous, and I look forward to Election Day as the end of a battle.” During that Western trip, he had one of his greatest personal ovations. One of the Western newspapers says: “In Portland, Oregon, the city practically stopped business and turned out to receive its guest. In each city, the personal element of the greeting was remarkable. No one was thinking of Colonel Roosevelt in connection with his past office as President. He was ‘Roosevelt.’ It was ‘Hello Teddy’ and ‘Hurrah for Teddy’ everywhere along the densely packed streets where he appeared. His speeches to these multitudes were neither original nor new, but the people understood them. The enthusiasm of these western cities for the ex-President seems almost fabulous. At Portland, hundreds of school children escorted the automobile. Women brought their children, cripples were wheeled to horse blocks, men climbed on cornices and pediments, mothers of twins pressed to the side of the car, people literally blackened sidewalks, residence verandas, windows of houses, even the trees. At Tacoma a woman was heard to remark, ‘If this ex-President has lost his popularity, I would hate to be in a crowd that had gathered to see an ex-President who had _not_ lost his popularity,’--and everywhere he preached the common-sense doctrine:--