gang" entered the store and completely cleaned it out. They did
not leave a button or a shoestring. It was said afterwards that Jake
Maunders did not have to buy a new suit of clothes for seven years,
and even Williams's two tame bears wore ready-made coats from St.
Paul.

Johnny Nelson went wailing to Katie, his betrothed.

"I've lost everything!" he cried. "I've lost all my goods and I can't
get more. I've lost my reputation. I can't marry you. I've lost my
reputation."

Katie was philosophic about it. "That's all right, Johnny," she said
comfortingly, "I lost mine long ago."

At that, Johnny "skipped the country." And so it was that Joe Ferris,
to save his hundred dollars attached Johnny's building and became
storekeeper.

For Roosevelt, two thousand miles to the east, the winter was proving
exciting. He had won his reelection to the Assembly with ease and had
plunged into his work with a new vigor and a more solid
self-reliance. He became the acknowledged leader of the progressive
elements in the Legislature, the "cyclone member" at whom the
reactionaries who were known as the "Black Horse Cavalry" sneered, but
of whom, nevertheless, they were heartily afraid.

He "figured in the news," day in, day out, for the public, it seemed,
was interested in this vigorous and emphatic young man from the
"Silkstocking District" of New York. Roosevelt took his publicity with
zest, for he was human and enjoyed the sensation of being counted with
those who made the wheels go around. Meanwhile he worked all day and
conversed half the night on a thousand topics which his ardor made
thrilling. In society he was already somewhat of a lion; and he was
only twenty-five years old.

Life was running, on the whole, very smoothly for Theodore Roosevelt
when in January, 1884, he entered upon his third term in the
Legislature. He was happily married, he had wealth, he had a notable
book on the War of 1812 to his credit; he had, it seemed, a smooth
course ahead of him, down pleasant roads to fame.

On February 12th, at ten o'clock in the morning, his wife gave birth
to a daughter. At five o'clock the following morning his mother died.
Six hours later his wife died.

He was stunned and dazed, but within a week after the infinitely
pathetic double funeral he was back at his desk in the Assembly, ready
to fling himself with every fiber of energy at his command into the
fight for clean government. He supported civil service reform; he