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Jacob A. Riis (1849–1914). Theodore Roosevelt, the Citizen. 1904.

Page 185

given to violence, shooting-matches, and such. He denied it hotly. They were the quietest, nicest fellows; only once in a while, when a fellow was caught cheating at cards, then—
  “But,” argued the Chaplain, rising on his elbow and earnestly pointing a spear of grass he had been chewing at me, “when a man cheats at cards, he ought to be shot, ought n’t he? Well, then, that is all.”
  I confess to a certain enjoyment in the thought of Chaplain Brown’s theology on a background of the Rough-Riders’ singing at “meetin’ ” in the woods. The combination suggests that first funeral on the ridge at Guantanamo, with the marines growling out the responses to the Chaplain’s prayer between pot-shots at the enemy, flat on their stomachs under the sudden attack; and, indeed, Colonel Roosevelt himself gave testimony that he had seen Chaplain Brown bring in wounded men from the field under circumstances that were distinctly stirring. But for all that, the Chaplain is a digression. The clergymen I was thinking of wore no shoulder-straps. They carried guns. One of them came up to bid his Colonel good-by when I was sitting with