Then the depression rushes down like a
horrible, cold, dark mist that obscures every beautiful thing and every
ray of hope. It may come from many causes: perhaps, a body not too
robust, worn down by a tireless mind; perhaps, the memory of long years
of effort, seemingly swallowed in oblivion and futility; perhaps contact
with men on your own side whose presence there is a puzzle, who have no
character and no conception of the grandeur of the Cause, and whose
mean, petty, underhand jealousies numb you--you who think anyone
claiming so fine a flag as ours should be naturally brave,
straightforward and generous; perhaps the seemingly overwhelming
strength of the enemy, and the listlessness of thousands who would hail
freedom with rapture, but who now stand aloof in despair--and along with
all this and intensifying it, the voice of our self-complacent practical
friend, who has but sarcasm for a high impulse, and for an immutable
principle the latest expedient of the hour. Through such an experience
must the soldier of freedom live. But as surely as such an hour comes,
there comes also a star to break the darkened sky; let those who feel
the battle-weariness at times remember. When in places there may be but
one or two to fight, it may seem of no avail; still let them be true
and their numbers will be multiplied: love of truth is infectious. When
progress is arrested, don't brood on what is, but on what was once
achieved, what has since survived, and what we may yet achieve.
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