Is The World Growing Better?

: Doctor Jones' Picnic

Before daylight on the following morning they descended to breakfast.

Mrs. Barton had enjoyed a comfortable night, and Dr. Jones expressed

himself as delighted with her condition.



"You have everything to hope for," he said to the family. "I leave you

this medicine, with written directions for its use. Do not repeat the

dose I have given her so long as improvement continues. When it ceases

you will do as d rected in my written instructions."



The hour of departure had arrived. Farewells had all been said, and the

company had ascended except the Doctor and his wife.



"I cannot say what I wish to you," said Barton, taking each of them by

the hand. "I simply look upon you as messengers from God, and I want to

give you something more substantial than thanks." He placed a buckskin

sack of gold in the hand of Dr. Jones.



"Oh! no, Mr. Barton, my good friend," said the Doctor, handing it back;

"I won't take a cent. You are ten thousand times welcome to anything I

have done. I feel myself richly remunerated in the satisfaction of

leaving you all happy."



"Take it, Mrs. Jones, as a present from me," said Barton, and he pressed

it into her hand. "You will really hurt me if you do not accept it."



"Then I will do so, Mr. Barton. Good-bye," and away they shot up to the

cabin. At a given signal Joe and Sam cast the anchors off, they whizzed

up to the engine-room, and the mighty ball bounded skyward like a bird

in the clear, frosty morning air. A very brisk wind was blowing from

nearly due south, and the voyagers were delighted with the progress they

made that day toward their destination.



All day they sped at more than forty miles an hour over the vast

elevated plains that were but barren wastes, growing every hour drearier

and more desolate.



"Of all the misnomers on earth, the name given this country ranks

first," said Professor Gray.



"What is the meaning of the word 'Labrador,' Professor?" asked Denison.



"The literal meaning of the word is 'cultivable land.' As to its

appropriateness, you can judge for yourselves. I do not know who

bestowed upon it this misfit of a name, but it must have been a hardy

explorer, who did it in a fit of spleen and wretchedness."



"The Barton family seems to be comfortable and happy in poor old

Labrador," said Mrs. Jones.



"Yes, but my dear madame, they do not live by cultivating the land,"

returned the Professor. "The seasons are too variable, and the changes

of temperature are far too sudden to permit raising of crops of any

kind."



"Mr. Barton told me that they did raise a little garden stuff, such as

onions, lettuce, and radishes; but potatoes, corn, etc., invariably are

nipped by frost, and never mature," said Denison.



The Professor, a few moments before noon, ascended to the observatory

with sextant and chronometer, and determined the latitude and longitude

of "Silver Cloud," as Mrs. Jones had named the aluminum ship. He made

the entry in his logbook.



"There is our exact position now, Doctor," and he placed the point of a

pencil on the map of Labrador.



"In forty-eight hours we will be within the Arctics at this rate of

speed," cried Dr. Jones, rubbing his hands with delight.



The face of the country was so uninteresting and monotonous, covered

more or less with snow, that the voyagers became tired of looking at it,

and turned their attention to various pursuits within the cabin.

Becoming tired of music, they read, played games, conversed, etc.



The Doctor and Professor were each expert chess players, and their games

were long and closely contested. Victory perched about as often upon the

banner of one as the other.



Fred worked daily upon a composition which he entitled "The North Pole

March," and declared that the music should be played by himself, while

the rest of the company marched around the aluminum flagstaff, after its

erection at the summit of the earth, the North Pole. The two ladies were

greatly interested in Fred's composition, and hummed and sang it with

him, offering suggestions here and there that were of more or less

benefit to him.



Denison and Will spent their time attending to the springs, watching the

thermometers and barometer. This, however, occupied but little of their

leisure, and they played many games of checkers and backgammon. Will

took an occasional snapshot with his camera when he saw anything of

interest. He had taken some excellent photographs of Silver Cloud and

company, which he had left with the Barton family. Who can doubt that

they were an unfailing source of delight and tender remembrance to this

intelligent and interesting family, as they sat about their great

fireplace during the long winter nights. And the artist had taken some

sketches of Constance House and inhabitants, which he had brought with

him. He had converted one of the spare bedrooms into a studio, and spent

an hour or two daily upon a portrait in oil of Jennie Barton. The fact

of the matter is, the unadorned beauty and grace of the lovely Jennie

had touched his artistic taste beyond anything that he had ever

experienced in his life. And away deep in his heart, almost unknown to

himself, was a determination to spend a summer season at Constance

House, as soon after their return from the Pole as possible.



Silver Cloud all this time was hastening with the speed of a carrier

pigeon, nearly due north. Dr. Jones and Professor Gray could not repress

their satisfaction each day as their observations showed them to be

moving straight as an arrow toward the object of their journey. The

altitude they maintained was very little more or less than three

thousand feet, and the wind continued from the south at the rate of

twenty or thirty miles per hour. The outside temperature was balmy and

bracing during the day, so that the balcony afforded them a splendid

promenade, where they spent hours daily, exercising in walking round and

round the spacious cabin, and studying the topography of the country.

Frequent trips were also made to the observatory, and sitting there with

the windows open was very inspiring, as well as comfortable. To thus

sit in so elevated a place with the windows wide open, while in a state

of perspiration, the result of climbing the long stairway, would seem to

have been the height of imprudence. But we must remember that such a

thing as a breeze or draft of air was never felt on board the Silver

Cloud while in motion. The great ship went exactly with the wind, and at

precisely the same rate of speed. So, whether the wind blew one or a

hundred miles an hour, it was always a dead calm aboard the Silver

Cloud.



"This is the ideal place for all catarrhal and pulmonary cases,"

declared Dr. Jones. "I shall always prescribe a trip in Silver Cloud for

this class of patients hereafter."



"I fully believe in its efficacy," said Professor Gray. "But I fear that

it will be too expensive a prescription for many of your poor patients."



"That's the trouble, that's the trouble," assented the Doctor, shaking

his head sadly. "Millions are yearly dying that might be saved by this

and other means on the same line. But the blindness and selfishness of

mankind is so absolute and infernal that but little philanthropic work

of this sort can be done. There are some noble exceptions, or we should

have suffered the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah long since."



"But, Doctor, you believe that the world is getting better, do you not?"

asked Will.



"In what way?"



"Well, in every way. No one can doubt that in the arts and sciences more

has been done in the past fifty years than in all the previous history

of the world."



"Granted," assented the Doctor.



"All right. Then let us look at the social, moral, and spiritual sides

of the question. Socially, certainly, no period of history can compare

with the present. We are educating our children, feeding and clothing

them better than they ever were before in the world."



"I really think we are," again assented Dr. Jones.



"Well, then," cried Will, glowing with triumph, thinking that he was

fairly smoking the little Doctor out, "what can you say for your side

of the question? Was there ever a time when life and property were so

protected as now? And were there ever so many Bibles and tracts and

other religious matter published and disseminated as at the present

time? Missionaries are going by thousands all over the earth, and the

gospel will soon have been preached to all nations."



"That's so, that's so," concurred the Doctor again.



"Come, come, Doctor; defend your side of the question," cried Fred.



"I did not know that I had committed myself to either side," returned

he. "But I will say this much: While I am not pessimistic as to the

outcome of this struggle going on between God's and Satan's forces in

the world, yet we should not overlook the fact that the devil is

fearfully active in these times. While I have admitted all that Will has

said, yet there is another side to the question. Let me call your

attention to the fact that there never was a time when there was so much

rum and tobacco used in the world as to-day. The amount consumed per

capita is increasing tremendously. Remember that with every missionary

there are sent in the same ship from seventy-five to one hundred gallons



of intoxicants, and tobacco galore. Never has this world seen so vast

preparation for war. The people of all Europe are groaning beneath the

taxation imposed upon them for the support of vast armies and navies. At

no time has money been piled up in the hands of the few as at the

present. Hundreds of millions in many instances are held by a single

individual. By no sort of philosophy can he be entitled to it, and by no

system can he come into possession of it without robbing thousands of

his fellowmen. And as to inventions: surely no man delights more in the

splendid achievements of our age in this direction than I do. But I

declare to you that I believe labor-saving machinery to be a mighty

curse to mankind, because the laborer is being driven closer and closer

to the wall by the innumerable inventions that are driving him out of

every field of labor. The great money kings are taking advantage of

every such invention, and what the end is to be I do not dare predict.

Ignatius Donnely's fearful picture in his work, Caeser's Column, I hope

and believe to be terribly overdrawn. And, as I said before, I am not

pessimistic as to the final outcome; but let us beware of crying 'Peace!

peace! when there is no peace!' The fact is, gentlemen, I cannot help

thinking that St. James referred to these very times, when he said in

the fifth chapter of his epistle: "Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl

for the miseries that shall come upon you. Your riches are corrupted and

your garments are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver is cankered; and the

rust of them shall be a witness against you, and shall eat your flesh as

it were fire. Ye have heaped up treasure together for the last days.

Behold, the hire of the laborers who have reaped down your fields, which

is of you kept back by fraud, crieth: and the cries of them who have

reaped are entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabbaoth." See James,

5-4. I cannot, in the light of these prophecies, see that the world is

growing essentially better rapidly, if at all."



"But, Doctor," said Will, "you cannot deny that the children of these

times are incomparably better clothed, have more and better books, live

in more comfortable homes, and are enjoying privileges never known to

children of former generations."



"While I must assent to what you have said, yet all these advantages are

not unmixed blessings. In my experience as a physician, I have seen very

many precious lives go out, simply because they could not endure the

high pressure system of our modern educators. I feel so strongly upon

this subject that I would prefer that a child of mine should live and

die absolutely illiterate, than that he should sacrifice one particle of

health for any conceivable amount of mere book-learning. I once had an

uncle who was a man of wonderful learning. He was a collegian, a master

of half a dozen or more languages, and for all this he paid the price of

his good health. All his life, he suffered the pangs of an outraged

stomach and nervous system. He could never make any use of his

splendidly cultivated brain, and was a miserable, unhappy burden to

himself and friends to the end of his life. His end was sad, tinged with

the element of ridiculousness. He was sitting in a field one day,

resting during a short walk, when a great vicious hog attacked him,

tossed him about, rooted him here and there, and would have certainly

killed him outright if his cries had not brought assistance. He never

recovered from the effects of the injuries received on that occasion.

Suppose poor old uncle could at that time have traded all his dead and

modern languages for a pair of good stout legs, would it not have been a

grand bargain for him?"



"But could not your uncle have been more judicious and systematic in the

prosecution of his studies, and have done the same amount of work

without detriment to his health?" asked Professor Gray.



"I do not doubt that he might. But our schools are run nowadays upon, as

I said before, a high-pressure system. Too many children are packed into

imperfectly ventilated schoolrooms, and the poor teachers are miserably

overtaxed. But the schools are graded, everything cut and dried, the

curriculum made by state or county board; and, like the tyrant's

bedstead, those too long must be cut off, and those too short must be

stretched. All must fit the bedstead. That great story-teller, Charles

Dickens, tells the story exactly in his picture of Dr. Blimmer's system

of teaching. That poor babe, Paul Dombey, might as well have been fed to

an insatiable ogre as to have been placed in the hands of that pompous

idiot. And our country is full of little Paul Dombeys, blossoming for

eternity. How much better to have let the poor little fellow play in the

sands upon the beach with his sister Florence and old Glubb. But the

precocious innocent must be murdered by this same senseless system,

because of the inordinate vanity of a foolish father, and the stupidity

of his teacher. In vain have I warned hundreds of parents, when I saw

their children thus being hurried to premature graves. But they are so

proud of the precocious darlings that they seldom heed until it is too

late. Faugh! the whole business makes me sick."



"Well, Doctor, admitting all you say, what do you suggest as the remedy?

I have known many statesmen who could see and point out the evils,

present or imminent, of society or state, with great sagacity and

accuracy, but when it came to prescribing the remedy, were utterly

impracticable," said Professor Gray.



"That is right, Professor Gray. It is very little benefit to a sick man

to tell him that he is sick, or even to make for him a scientific

diagnosis, if it be not supplemented by the remedy. I have remedial

measures to suggest. In the first place, I would build schoolhouses upon

strictly scientific principles; a certain number of cubic yards of pure

air should be allowed each scholar, and the most perfect system of

ventilation should always be used. Further, by way of homely

illustration, I should treat the children upon the same principles that

we do our horses. Some horses are calculated for heavy draught business,

others for light draught, roadsters, racers, etc. I need not mention the

folly of attempting to drive these animals out of their respective

classes. Now children differ as essentially in their mental capacities

and requirements as do horses physically. You can by no possible means

make a mathematician of a scholar who is deficient in the organ of

calculation. It is a manifest injustice to hitch such a one beside

another who is a perfect racer in the mathematical field. It is not fair

to either of them. I claim that each child should be treated upon his

individual merits, and in accordance with the natural gifts that God has

bestowed upon him. The graded school system is in direct opposition to

this idea, and is wholly wrong and unscientific."



"Well, as to the curriculum, Doctor," said Will, "suppose you were

called upon to abridge the list of studies in our public schools, where

would you begin and end? Isn't it a pity in this age of the world, to

shut off from the children any one of the branches of science or

learning?"



"Indeed, that would be a great pity, and far be it from me to do

anything of the kind. I would not abridge the curriculum for any child;

it should simply be taught that for which it has a capacity. A teacher

who is not capable of so discriminating and anticipating the wants of

each pupil, is not a teacher in the best sense of the word, any more

than a man is a horse trainer who cannot differentiate between a heavy

draught-horse and a light roadster. I might say considerable as to

methods of teaching, but I presume that you have heard enough for once."



"Yes, but we have not settled the question as to whether the world is

getting better or not," returned Will. "I am willing to admit that our

school system is defective. But what do you say as to the safety of life

and property at this time, compared with any other age of the world?"



"Really, now, I wish an intelligent Armenian were here to answer that

question."



"But that is not fair, Doctor. The Armenians are in the hands of the

Turks and we know that they are capable of any conceivable inhumanity.

I supposed that we were discussing the world so far as civilized. I

really think that it is a clear case of 'begging the question,' when you

introduce the Armenian case into the discussion."



"Do you, indeed! And let me inquire, my dear boy, who is responsible for

this wholesale slaughter of a people whose only crime is that of being

nominal Christians? Five or six centuries ago the combined governments

of Europe would have made common cause against the infamous Turk for

much less than the murder of a Christian nation. But to-day there is so

much less of manhood in Europe than there was in the days of chivalry,

that the civilized world is sitting calmly by and permitting this

unspeakable crime to go on at the sweet will of the bloody-handed Turk.

And do you not think that God will hold the nations of Europe to a

strict account for this villainy that marks the closing decade of the

nineteenth century as the blackest page in human history? God will

surely avenge Armenia, and woe to Europe when He treads the wine-press

of His wrath!"



As Will offered no reply, the discussion closed.