July 22nd, 1917 Letter from Major Horace S. Browntrout to Edith Roosevelt Dear Mrs. Roosevelt, Words cannot begin to convey the sense of tragedy and loss I feel at the death of your husband. He cast his resolute shadow over everything that moved—including the Saysquack, who was much bigger than he was. He was bull among cows; next to him our tallest mountain was but a heap of stones, our brightest light was the flicker of a match in the wind, the roar of lions more tame than the purr of a kitty cat.
Being dead is bully!
July 22nd, 1917 Letter from Major Horace S. Browntrout to Edith Roosevelt Dear Mrs. Roosevelt, Words cannot begin to convey the sense of tragedy and loss I feel at the death of your husband. He cast his resolute shadow over everything that moved—including the Saysquack, who was much bigger than he was. He was bull among cows; next to him our tallest mountain was but a heap of stones, our brightest light was the flicker of a match in the wind, the roar of lions more tame than the purr of a kitty cat.
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