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

Page 248

into history in the city of Buffalo. Secretary Loeb knew the dangers of the mountain roads on a dark and rainy night, and pleaded with him to wait till morning.
  “I will come right through, as quick as I can,” was the answer he received; and before he could ring the telephone bell, Mr. Roosevelt was in his seat again, and the horses were plunging through the night toward the distant railroad.
  Down hill and up, through narrow defiles, over bare hillsides where the wheels scraped and slid upon the hard rock and the horses’ hoofs struck fire at every jump; on perilous brinks hidden in the shrouding fog, and ten-fold more perilous for that; now and then a bog-hole through which the wheels of the buckboard sank to the hubs; past a little school-house where a backwood’s dance was just breaking up, the women scattering in sudden fright as the traveler drove by. Then the wayside hotel with waiting horses in relay, and two thirds of the way was covered.
  Once more the gloom and the forest; once more the grim traveler gazing ahead, ahead, as if he would pierce the veil of fate and wrest