"Nor did Clough's great powers ever realize themselves to his contemporaries by any outward sign at all commensurate with the profound impression which they produced in actual life. But if his powers did not, there was much in his character that did produce its full effect upon all who knew him. He never looked, even in time of severe trial, to his own interest or advancement. He never flinched from the worldly loss which his deepest convictions brought on him. Even when clouds were thick over his own head, and the ground beneath his feet seemed crumbling away, he could still bear witness to an eternal light behind the cloud, and tell others that there is solid ground to be reached in the end by the weary feet of all who will wait to be strong. Let him speak his own farewell:-- 'Say not the struggle nought availeth, The labor and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not nor faileth, And as things have been things remain. 'Though hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; It may be, in yon smoke concealed, Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, And but for you possess the field. 'For though the tired wave, idly breaking, Seems here no tedious inch to gain, Far back, through creek and inlet making, Came, silent flooding in, the main. 'And not through eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front the sun climbs slow,--how slowly! But westward--look! the land is bright.'" WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH THEM?