iless, practical,
progressive white brother.

Cooper has immortalized for us the extinction of a people in the "Last
of the Mohicans." Many another tribe has passed away, unhonored and
unsung. Westward the "Star of Empire" takes its way; the great domain
west of the Mississippi is now peopled by the white race, while the
Indians are shut up in reservations. Their doom is sealed; their sun is
set. "Kismet" has been spoken of them; the total extinction of the race
is only a question of time. In the words of Rudyard Kipling:

"Take up the White Man's burden--
Ye dare not stoop to less--
Nor call too loud on freedom
To cloke your weariness.
By all ye will or whisper,
By all ye leave or do,
The silent, sullen peoples
Shall weigh your God and you."

Of this past epoch of our national life there remains but one well-known
representative. That one is my brother. He occupies a unique place in
the portrait gallery of famous Americans to-day. It is not alone his
commanding personality, nor the success he has achieved along various
lines, which gives him the strong hold he has on the hearts of the
American people, or the absorbing interest he possesses in the eyes of
foreigners. The fact that in his own person he condenses a period of
national history is a large factor in the fascination he exercises over
others. He may fitly be named the "Last of the Great Scouts." He has
had great predecessors. The mantle of Kit Carson has fallen upon his
shoulders, and he wears it worthily. He has not, and never can have, a
successor. He is the vanishing-point between the rugged wilderness of
the past in Western life and the vast achievement in the present.

When the "Wild West" disbands, the last vestige of our frontier life
passes from the scene of active realities, and becomes a matter of
history.

"Life is real, life is earnest," sings the poet, and real and earnest it
has been for my brother. It has been spent in others' service. I cannot
recall a time when he has not thus been laden with heavy burdens. Yet
for himself he has won a reputation, national and international. A
naval officer visiting in China relates that as he stepped ashore he
was offered two books for purchase--one the Bible, the other a "Life of
Buffalo Bill."

For nearly half a century, which comprises his childhood, youth, and
manhood, my brother has been before the public. He can scarcely be said
to have had a childhood,