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

Page 29

down the street, as long as he was in sight, the day he went, and turn back with a sigh that made him my friend forever: “There won’t such another come through that door again in my time, that there won’t.” And there did not. The old man is retired long since.
  He joined the exclusive “Pork” Club, and forthwith smashed all its hallowed traditions and made the Porcellian blood run cold, by taking his finacée to lunch where no woman ever trod before. He simply saw no reason why a lady should not lunch at a gentlemen’s club; and when the shocked bachelor minds of the “Pork” Club searched the horizon for one to confront him with, they discovered that there was none. Accordingly the world still stood, and so did the college. He played polo, did athletic stunts with the fellows, and drove a two-wheeled gig badly, having no end of good times in it. When he puts on the boxing-gloves, he hailed the first comer with the more delight if he happened to be the champion of the class, who was twice his size and heft. The pummeling that ensued he took with the most hearty good will; and though his nose bled and his glasses fell off, putting him at a disadvantage,