So he spared
the Mayor much embarrassment; for, as I said, I am not good in the
ranks, more is the pity: and me he saved for such use as I could be
of, which was well. For shortly it all centred in Mulberry Street,
where he was.
We were not strangers. It could not have been long after I wrote
"How the Other Half Lives" that he came to the _Evening Sun_ office
one day looking for me. I was out, and he left his card, merely
writing on the back of it that he had read my book and had "come
to help." That was all, and it tells the whole story of the man. I
loved him from the day I first saw him; nor ever in all the years
that have passed has he failed of the promise made then. No one
ever helped as he did. For two years we were brothers in Mulberry
Street. When he left I had seen its golden age. I knew too well
the evil day that was coming back to have any heart in it after
that.
Not that we were carried heavenward "on flowery beds of ease" while it
lasted. There is very little ease where Theodore Roosevelt leads,
as we all of us found out.
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