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Another British push drives the Germans toward home, and the pessimists out of sight. The dispellers of cheerfulness had their day when Russia turned inside out, the Plave became No-Man's Land, and New York went back on Mitchel. Through the clouds of gloom, however, rays of optimism appear. The man who tells us the war is going to end in six months will now misinform us for a few weeks, and thereby satisfy his prophetic instincts. Ground for encouragement does exist, nevertheless, not on the tongue of the seer, but on Flanders mud, Allied union and American progress. As Englishmen regain France's lost territory, they drive from our minds the trenches in Italy. In the attempt to create an allied general staff we see an endeavor for more efficient co-operation. While labor tends to eliminate its striking habits, and the new draftees, their awkwardness, we perceive the United States getting ever stronger. Even the most energetic pessimist, lately at the height of his powers, suffers a serious repulse. His old standby, the submarine campaign, will soon be useless. His discomfort and lack of subjects prevent our hearing how bad conditions are. Although the warnings of a true pessimist may spur us on to more vigorous action, yet they tend to bring comfort to our enemies. Too much optimism, however, is little more valuable, in spite of the fact that it is more agreeable. We want not the depths of pessimism, nor the heights of optimism.
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