#156 Theodore Roosevelt

On the morning of april eleventh, eighteen eighty six, a young physician named Victor Stickney had come out of his office about noon. On his way home to lunch, when he saw the most bedraggled figure I'd ever seen come limping down the street. The man was covered with mud.

His clothes were in shreds. He was all teeth and eyes. He was scratched, bruised, and hungry. but gritty and determined as a bulldog. As I approached him, he stopped me with a gesture.

Asking me whether I could direct him to a doctor's office. I was struck by the way he bit off his words and showed his teeth. I told him that I was the only practicing physician in the whole surrounding country. By George, he said emphatically. Then you're exactly the man I wanna see.

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