imagination of all the coming ages. These men, in the noble indignation
of a great ideal, face a worse hell than the most ingenious of fanatics
ever planned or plotted. Men die scorched like moths in a furnace, blown
to atoms, gassed, tortured. And again other men step forward to take
their places well knowing what will be their fate. Bodies may die, but
the spirit of England grows greater as each new soul speeds upon its
way. The battened souls of America will die and be buried. I believe the
decision of the next few days will prove to be the crisis in America's
nationhood. If she refuses the pain which will save her, the cancer of
self-despising will rob her of her life.

This feeling is strong with us. It's past midnight, but I could write
of nothing else to-night.

God bless you.

Yours ever,
Con.