In the midst of all the excitement, we occasionally snatched a moment for a quiet luncheon. “Fine!” he writes me on November 5. “Yes,--Thursday,--the Langdon at 1:30. It will be fine to see Patty Selmes.” How he did enjoy seeing our mutual friend Patty Selmes that day! As “Patty Flandrau” of Kentucky she had married Tilden Selmes just about the time that Theodore Roosevelt had taken up his residence in the Bad Lands of Dakota, where the young married couple had also migrated. Nothing was ever more entertaining than to start the “don’t you remember” conversations between my brother and his old friend Mrs. Selmes. Each would cap some wild Western story of the other with one equally wild and amusing, and the tales of their adventures with the Marquis de Morés would have shamed Dumas himself! Another little note came to me shortly after the above, suggesting that he should spend the night and have one of the old-time breakfasts that he loved. “Breakfast is really the meal for long and intimate conversation.” He writes the postscript which he adds he knew would please my heart, for one of my sons, owing to a slight defect in one eye, had had difficulty in being accepted in the army, but through strong determination had finally achieved a captaincy in the ammunition train of the 77th Division. My brother says in the postscript: “I genuinely admire and respect Monroe.” About New Year’s eve a letter came to my husband from him in answer to a congratulatory letter on the fine actions of my brother’s boys. “Of course, we are very proud of Archie, and General Duncan has just written us about Ted in terms that make our hearts glow. Well, there is no telling what the New Year has in store. The hand of Fate may be heavy upon us, but we can all be sure that it will not take away our pride in our boys. [My son Monroe was expecting to be sent soon to France in the 77th Division, and my eldest son, who had broken his leg, was hoping to get into a camp when the leg had recovered its power.] I cannot tell you, my dear Douglas, how much you and Corinne have done for us and have meant to us during the last six months. Ever yours, T. R.” In the “Life and Letters of George Eliot” she dwells upon the fact that so many people lose the great opportunity of giving to others the outward expression of their love and appreciation, and as I re-read my brother’s treasured letters, I realize fully what the authoress meant, and how much the giver of such honest and loving expression wins in return from those to whom the happiness of appreciation has been rendered.