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w te trek h. Grubedl; 0.5.M. C, 6-25-way





If life were all easy, we should degenerate into weaklingsinto human mush. It is the fighting spirit that makes us strong. Nor do any of us lack for a chance to exercise this spirit. Struggle is everywhere; as Kearny said at Fair Oaks, “There is lovely fighting along the whole line.”

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FIGHT a battle every day

Against discouragement and fear;
Some foe stands always in my way,

The path ahead is never clear !
I must forever be on guard

Against the doubts that skulk along;
I get ahead by fighting hard,

But fighting keeps my spirit strong.

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I hear the croakings of Despair,

The dark predictions of the weak;
I find myself pursued by Care,

No matter what the end I seek;
My victories are small and few,

It matters not how hard I strive;
Each day the fight begins anew,

But fighting keeps my hopes alive.
My dreams are spoiled by circumstance,

My plans are wrecked by Fate or Luck;
Some hour, perhaps, will bring my chance,

But that great hour has never struck;
My progress has been slow and hard,

I've had to climb and crawl and swim,
Fighting for every stubborn yard,

But I have kept in fighting trim.
I have to fight my doubts away,

And be on guard against my fears;
The feeble croaking of Dismay

Has been familiar through the years;
My dearest plans keep going wrong,
Events combine to thwart my will,

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But fighting keeps my spirit strong,
And I am undefeated still!

S: E. Kiser.
Permission of the Author.
From "The New York American.”



Since pain is the lot of all, we cannot hope to escape it. Since only through pain can we come into true and helpful sympathy with men, we should not wish to escape it.

THAT if this year has given

Grief that some year must bring,
What if it hurt your joyous youth,

Crippled your laughter's wing?
You always knew it was coming,

Coming to all, to you,
They always said there was suffering-

Now it is done, come through.
Even if you have blundered,

Even if you have sinned,
Still is the steadfast arch of the sky

And the healing veil of the wind ...
And after only a little,

A little of hurt and pain,
You shall have the web of your own old

Wrapping your heart again.
Only your heart can pity

Now, where it laughed and passed,
Now you can bend to comfort men,

One with them all at last,
You shall have back your laughter,

You shall have back your song,
Only the world is your brother now,
Only your soul is strong!

Margaret Widdemer.
From "The Old Road to Paradise,”
Henry Holt & Co.



A great, achieving soul will not clog itself with a cowardly thought or a cowardly watchword. Cardinal Richelieu in BulwerLytton's play declares:

"In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves
For a bright manhood, there is no such word

As 'fail. "Impossible," Napoleon is quoted as saying, “is a word found only in the dictionary of fools."

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YAN’T is the worst word that's written or spoken;

Doing more harm here than slander and lies; On it is many a strong spirit broken,

And with it many a good purpose dies. It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning

And robs us of courage we need through the day: It rings in our ears like a timely-sent warning

And laughs when we falter and fall by the way.

Can't is the father of feeble endeavor,

The parent of terror and half-hearted work; It weakens the efforts of artisans clever,

And makes of the toiler an indolent shirk.
It poisons the soul of the man with a vision,

It stifles in infancy many a plan;
It greets honest toiling with open derision

And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man.

Can't is a word none should speak without blushing;

To utter it should be a symbol of shame; Ambition and courage it daily is crushing;

It blights a man's purpose and shortens his aim. Despise it with all of your hatred of error;

Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in your brain; Arm against it as a creature of terror,

And all that you dream of you some day shall gain.

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