Courage, Comrades—Courage! And Forward March!
***
On this mellow, radiant, opulent day of Indian Summer—when the golden hours step quietly by, leading November into the dim realms which we call the Past—I write these lines; and, having done so, cast behind me that ugly dream, my New York experience.
Betrayed, I will trust again, AND GO ON. Better ten thousand treacheries than loss of faith in my fellow man. Repulsed, I will rally, re-form, and CHARGE AGAIN. Better a hundred defeats than one capitulation.
***
In March 1898, the Populists nominated me for Governor of Georgia. In declining to make the race, my decision was controlled by the fact that our organization had been wrecked by the Traitors who controlled our National Committee, that I myself was exhausted—mentally, physically, financially—and that Populism must henceforth do its work as A LEAVEN TO THE LOAF.
The fatal Fusion of 1896 had done our organization deadly damage, and the Spanish War finished us.
The blare of the bugle drowned the voice of the Reformer. With the Cannon-boom shaking the world, men had no ear for Political economy—or economy of any other sort.
Roosevelt rushed into war paint, and leaped into fame.
Bryan stuck a feather in his cap, and vowed that he, too, would become a soldier in spite of those vile guns.