September 12, 1880--Darling Pussie: We have come back here after a week’s hunting in Iowa. Elliott revels in the change to civilization--and epicurean pleasures. As soon as we got here he took some ale to get the dust out of his throat; then a milk punch because he was thirsty; a mint julep because it was hot; a brandy mash “to keep the cold out of his stomach”; and then sherry and bitters to give him an appetite. He took a very simple dinner--soup, fish, salmi de grouse, sweetbread, mutton, venison, corn, macaroni, various vegetables and some puddings and pies, together with beer, later claret and in the evening, shandigaff. I confined myself to roast beef and potatoes; when I took a second help he marvelled at my appetite--and at bedtime, wondered why in thunder _he_ felt “stuffy” and _I_ didn’t. The good living also reached his brain, and he tried to lure me into a discussion about the intellectual development of the Hindoos, coupled with some rather discursive and scarcely logical digressions about the Infinity of the Infinite, the Sunday school system, and the planet Mars, together with some irrelevant remarks about Texan “Jack Rabbits” which are apparently about as large as good-sized cows. Elliott says that these remarks are incorrect and malevolent; but I say they pay him off for his last letter about my eating manners! We have had very good fun so far, in spite of a succession of untoward accidents and delays. I broke both my guns, Elliott dented his, and the shooting was not as good as we had expected; I got bitten by a snake and chucked headforemost out of the wagon. YOUR SEEDY BROTHER, THEO. Nothing could better exemplify the intimate, comprehending relationship of the two brothers than the above letter, in which, with exaggerated fun, Theodore “pays Elliott off” for his criticisms of the future President’s eating manners! All through their lives--alas! Elliott’s life was to end prematurely at the age of thirty-three--the same relationship endured between them. Each was full of rare charm, joy of life, and unselfish interest in his fellow man, and thus they had much in common always. The hunting trip described so vividly in these two letters was, in a sense, the climax of this period of my brother’s life. College days were over, the happy summer following his graduation was also on the wane, and within a brief six weeks from the time these letters were written, Theodore Roosevelt, a married man, was to go forth on the broader avenues of his life’s destiny. V THE YOUNG REFORMER “Lift up thy praise to Life That set thee in the strenuous ways, And left thee not to drowse and rot In some thick perfumed and luxurious plot. “Strong, strong is Earth With vigor for thy feet, To make thy wayfaring Tireless and fleet, “And good is Earth, But Earth not all thy good, O thou with seeds of suns And star-fire in thy blood.”