The war was never-ending, for even the times of so-called peace were broken by forays and murders; a man might grow from babyhood to middle age on the border, and yet never remember a year in which some one of his neighbors did not fall a victim to the Indians.
Roosevelt describes the constant state of conflict faced by those living on the frontier, emphasizing the harsh realities of life there.
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Shame on the man of cultivated taste who permits refinement to develop into a fastidiousness that unfits him for doing the rough work of a workaday world.
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I deeply appreciate your letter, and I realize to the full the heavy responsibility it puts upon me.
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