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Grant at Ft. Donelson demanded unconditional and immediate surrender. At Appomattox he offered as lenient terms as victor ever extended to vanquished. Why the difference? The one event was at the beginning of the war, when the enemy's morale must be shaken. The other was at the end of the conflict, when a brave and noble adversary had been rendered helpless. In his quiet way Grant showed himself one of nature's gentlemen. He also taught a great lesson. No honor can be too great for the man, be he even our foe, who has steadily and uncomplainingly done his very best-and has failed.

DID you

tackle that trouble that came your way

a resolute heart and cheerful?

Or hide your face from the light of day

With a craven soul and fearful?

Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,

Or a trouble is what you make it,

And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that!
Come up with a smiling face.

It's nothing against you to fall down flat,

But to lie there-that's disgrace.

The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce'
Be proud of your blackened eye!

It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;
It's how did you fight-and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,

If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.

Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,

It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,

But only how did you die?

From "Impertinent_Poems,"

Dodge Publishing Co.

Edmund Vance Cooke.


To break the ice of an undertaking is difficult. To cross on broken ice, as Eliza did to freedom, or to row amid floating ice, as Washington did to victory, is harder still. This poem applies especially to those who are discouraged in a struggle to which they are already committed.

EVERYTHING'S easy after it's done;

Every battle's a "cinch" that's won;
Every problem is clear that's solved-
The earth was round when it revolved!
But Washington stood amid grave doubt
With enemy forces camped about;
He could not know how he would fare
Till after he'd crossed the Delaware.

Though the river was full of ice
He did not think about it twice,
But started across in the dead of night,
The enemy waiting to open the fight.
Likely feeling pretty blue,

Being human, same as you,
But he was brave amid despair,

And Washington crossed the Delaware!

So when you're with trouble beset,
And your spirits are soaking wet,
When all the sky with clouds is black,
Don't lie down upon your back

And look at them. Just do the thing;
Though you are choked, still try to sing.
If times are dark, believe them fair,
And you will cross the Delaware!

Joseph Morris.


To some people success is everything, and the easier it is gained the better. To Browning success is nothing unless it is won by painful effort. What Browning values is struggle. Throes, rebuffs, even failure to achieve what we wish, are to be welcomed, for the effects of vigorous endeavor inweave themselves into our characters; moreover through struggle we lift ourselves from the degradation into which the indolent fall. In the intervals of strife we may look back dispassionately upon what we have gone through, see where we erred and where we did wisely, watch the workings of universal laws, and resolve to apply hereafter what we have hitherto learned.

welcome each rebuff

THEN at turns earth's smoothness rough,


Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go!
Be our joys three-parts pain!

Strive, and hold cheap the strain;

Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge
the throe!

For thence, a paradox

Which comforts while it mocks,

Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail:
What I aspired to be,

And was not, comforts me:

A brute I might have been, but would not sink

i' the scale.

So, still within this life,

Though lifted o'er its strife,

Let me discern, compare, pronounce at last,
"This rage was right i' the main,

That acquiescence vain:

The Future I may face now I have proved the

For more is not reserved

To man, with soul just nerved

To act to-morrow what he learns to-day:
Here, work enough to watch

The Master work, and catch

Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's
true play.

Robert Browning.


The last invitation anybody would accept is "Come, let us weep together." If we keep melancholy at our house, we should be careful to have it under lock and key, so that no one will observe it.



I've no use for you, by Golly!
Yet I'm going to keep you hidden
In some chamber dark, forbidden,
Just as though you were a prize, sir,
Made of gold, and I a miser-
Not because I think you jolly,

Not for that I mean to hoard you,
Keep you close and lodge and board you
As I would my sisters, brothers,
Cousins, aunts, and old grandmothers,
But that you shan't bother others

With your sniffling, snuffling folly,



Permission of the Author.
From "Songs of Cheer."

John Kendrick Bangs.


Admiral Dupont was explaining to Farragut his reasons for not taking his ironclads into Charleston harbor. "You haven't given me the main reason yet," said Farragut. "What's that?" "You didn't think you could do it." So the man who thinks he can't pass a lion, can't. But the man who thinks he can, can. Indeed he oftentimes finds that the lion isn't really there at all.

IDARE not!

Look! the road is very dark-
The trees stir softly and the bushes shake,
The long grass rustles, and the darkness moves
Here! there! beyond-!

There's something crept across the road just now!
And you would have me go-?

Go there, through that live darkness, hideous
With stir of crouching forms that wait to kill?
Ah, look! See there! and there! and there again!
Great yellow, glassy eyes, close to the ground!
Look! Now the clouds are lighter I can see
The long slow lashing of the sinewy tails,
And the set quiver of strong jaws that wait-!
Go there? Not I! Who dares to go who sees
So perfectly the lions in the path?

Comes one who dares.

Afraid at first, yet bound
On such high errand as no fear could stay.
Forth goes he, with lions in his path.
And then- - ?

He dared a death of agony—
Outnumbered battle with the king of beasts-
Long struggles in the horror of the night-
Dared, and went forth to meet-O ye who fear!
Finding an empty road, and nothing there-
A wide, bare, common road, with homely fields,
And fences, and the dusty roadside trees-
Some spitting kittens, maybe, in the grass.

From "In This Our World,"
Small, Maynard & Co.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman,

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