They never understood us. They could preach Sunday school and arithmetic. But the good Lord never gave it to them to speak to the heart. And then you came! Dancing down the road you came with life and love and courage and fun stickin’ out all over you. How we loved you at the first sight! And how you loved us! Friends we were, tho’ you were in the White House and we were making mud pies. Friends we were together with nothing to come between us. Your love would let no harm come near us and we knew it. With your courage you fought for us. With your life and your fun you took us out of the drab grind. You told us of the birds in the air and of the fishes in the sea. The great tales of the old heroes, the sagas of the past, you spread before our ’stonished eyes. You gave us new words--delightful words--to play with; and jokes--delightful jokes--to make us laugh. How we wanted you back when you went away! But they stole our right from us and they wouldn’t let you come back. So we followed you. Four million of us, in a fight the like of which we never knew. Joy and religion were in it in equal measure. Hymns and cleanness and color and battle all were jumbled in it. The good of it is set forever into the life of the nation. But the schoolmaster beat you, and the Great War came to crowd you from our thoughts. We thought only of ourselves because you were no longer there to make us think of our country. At last we turned to you--when it was too late. So now we are not to have you. We must go stumbling on alone, hoping that the man they’ve given us may show something of that fire and strength upon which you taught us to rely. It’s our fault, not theirs. It’s our fault, not yours. You warned us that we must be ready to go thru to the end. We weren’t. Fear had come upon us, fear of ourselves. We were split up. We eyed each other with distrust. The spirit of your old sagas had gone from us. Now we must face it alone, unless you help us. Do not forsake us to sulk in your tent. Make the sacrifice they demand, not for their sake but for ours. Help them win with the cold, good man they’ve chosen. Help that man to hold his courage and fight worthily for the things which you have taught us--tho the real right to fight for them was yours, not his. Don’t let our councils be divided. Don’t let hotheaded friends force their personal claims upon you. But whatever you do or whatever you don’t do, be sure of one thing--we shall never hold it against you. For all that is gone, you can do no wrong in our sight. The memory of you shall never fade from our hearts. Ah, Teddy dear--we love you now and always.[B] [B] From the Chicago _Evening Post_, June, 1916. The article was written by Julian Mason, the gifted son of one who had been a hospitable host of Theodore Roosevelt when, as a young man, he wrote “The Winning of the West.”