Every day thousands of new companies are promoted to exploit inventions that have for their end and aim the doing of something in the greatest possible hurry with the least possible aid from mere men. Some day the lower classes will become perfectly unnecessary, like 'bus horses. The world will then be full of the only people who really count, and who can afford to be in a hurry: kings and queens, the rich and great, and above all, those golden calves the world worships, who rule the trusts, who in turn rule and ruin the world.
The question is, will the world be as well off if it has reached the summit and apex of hurry? In those days there will be no more contentment, for the electric age is, of all things, the enemy of contentment. Yes, by that time the whole world will be discontented, and the universal characteristic of nations will be that they are tired--tired--tired. Then, of course, men will die in their early youth, worn out and old, for, after all, they are only men and not gods. Besides, have not the gods always had a bad reputation for jealousy, and have they not always punished the presumptuous mortals who tried to steal their divine fire?
Even the Electric Age cannot escape its Nemesis.
Why are the English, admittedly the apostles of the tub, so indifferent, as a rule, to the condition of their teeth? If they would do only an infinitesimal bit as much for their preservation as they do for the preservation of their monuments, it might possibly have a momentous influence on English history.
Why the inside of a man's mouth should be of no importance compared to his outer man is a riddle; but so it is, and a man who would feel quite disgraced to be seen with dirty hands, leaves his teeth in a condition which is quite appalling. If, as it is said, bad teeth are a sign of the degeneracy of a race, then are the sturdy English in a very bad way, and melancholy indeed is their deterioration since the days of their ancestors of that prehistoric age whose relics are found in Cornwall and Somerset.
It is a comfort to learn that not only common sense, but vanity, is as old as the hills, for among those ancient remains were found some rouge, and a mirror, all of which can be verified in the museum at Glastonbury. My heart went out to the prehistoric lady who used the rouge; it brought her very near with its suggestion of frailty and feminine vanity, and I am quite sure that the mirror as well was her property. I lingered over the rouge, the mirror, a tooth, a prehistoric safety-pin, and some needles, and let the others bother themselves about such really unimportant details as weapons and utensils. As I strolled on I saw a skull two thousand years older than any recorded history, and it grinned cheerfully at me with as perfect a set of teeth as ever rejoiced the heart of a dentist. I could not help thinking what a shabby exhibition we should make in similar circumstances!