Times of good weather, times of partial success In those two years. “The mail came. Thanks for the papers. We had a good feed at Mrs. Wilson’s place. I feel fine today. We put on a show last night. You ought to have seen Jim Wheeler in ‘Box and Cox.’ Our little band of Christians meets often now And the spirit moves in us strongly, praise be to God. The President reviewed us two days ago. You should have seen it, father, it was majestic. I have never seen a more magnificent sight. It makes me proud to be part of such an army. We got the tobacco. The socks came. I’m feeling fine.” All that⁠—but still the deep diapason throbs Under the rest. The cold. The mud. The bleak wonder. The weakening sickness⁠—the weevils tainting the bread⁠— We were beaten again in spite of all we could do. We don’t know what went wrong but something went wrong. When will we find a man who can really lead us? When will we not be wasted without success?