For 18 months we have sustained a very difficult and bloody struggle in Cuba. Forty thousand Spaniards have put their feet upon that burning soil, where many of them have found sepulture. Forty million dollars have gone out from our poor and miserable coffers. What have we accomplished? Nothing-absolutely nothing. It is painful thus to speak, but we can do nothing less. The insurrection is not conquered. It will continue to have more or less force, and it will hold out long enough to consume all our resources, which are very few, and to cause the death of many, very many Spaniards. And suppose, after all, we should obtain some results. In the end it would be hard, it would be painful, if we should meet with the same fate in Cuba as happened us in Santo Domingo. To fight to water the soil with our blood, and after so much heroism, after so much self-abnegation, yes, then to leave the sepulchers of our soldiers to the hand of the enemy.
We agree that the insurgents are badly whipped; yes, we admit that our reported victories may be true ones, but who can conquer a people fighting for liberty? The insurrection, so far as it concerns the question of being subdued, may at any moment assume greater proportions. It is certain that the contest will be ceaselessly renewed.
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