can behold those who have been leaders of the industrial column, who
now stand aside and see the multitude sweep by. Just at the moment of
expected victory misfortune overtook them and brought their structure
down in ruins. And because the seed they have sown is not physical,
but mental and moral, the fruition is long postponed.

Walter Scott tells the story of a wounded knight, who took refuge in
the castle of a baron that proved to be a secret enemy and threw the
knight into a dungeon; one day in his cell the knight heard the sound
of distant music approaching. Drawing near the slit in the tower, he
saw the flash of swords and heard the tramp of marching men. At last
the wounded hero realized that these were his own troops, marching by
in ignorance of the fact that the lord of this castle was also the
jailer of their general. While the knight tugged at his chain, lifted
up his voice and cried aloud, his troops marched on, their music
drowning out his cries. Soon the banners passed from sight, the last
straggler disappeared behind the hill and the captive was left alone.
The brave knight died in his dungeon, but the story of his heroism
lived. What the knight learned in suffering the poets have taught in
song. The captive hero has a permanent place in civilization, though
the foresight of his influence was denied him.

Those whose harvest is delayed are a great company. Elizabeth Barrett
Browning exclaiming, "I have not used half the powers God has given
me," poets dying ere the day was half done; the inventors and reformers
denied their ideals; obscure and humble workmen--the mechanic who
emancipates man by his machine; the artisan whose conveniences are
endless benefactions to our homes; the smith whose honest anchor holds
the ship in time of storm--all these labored and died without seeing
the fruitage, but other men entered into their labors.