"Trailing clouds of glory we come," says the poet. Not all of us come as trailing clouds of glory, however; some of us come as trailing black fogs; there can be no question about that. But every one of us comes into this world to fight, as on a battlefield. We come here weeping to fight our way as well as we can and to make a path for ourselves through this infinite ocean of life; forward we go, having long ages behind us and an immense expanse beyond. So on we go, till death comes and takes us off the field—victorious or........

© Free Press Journal