Doctor Jones' Picnic

by S. E. Chapman

  CHAPTER XI.

  Is the World Growing Better?

  Before daylight on the following morning they descended to breakfast.Mrs. Barton had enjoyed a comfortable night, and Dr. Jones expressedhimself as delighted with her condition.

  "You have everything to hope for," he said to the family. "I leave youthis medicine, with written directions for its use. Do not repeat thedose I have given her so long as improvement continues. When it ceasesyou will do as directed in my written instructions."

  The hour of departure had arrived. Farewells had all been said, and thecompany had ascended except the Doctor and his wife.

  "I cannot say what I wish to you," said Barton, taking each of them bythe hand. "I simply look upon you as messengers from God, and I want togive you something more substantial than thanks." He placed a buckskinsack 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 Ihave done. I feel myself richly remunerated in the satisfaction ofleaving you all happy."

  "Take it, Mrs. Jones, as a present from me," said Barton, and he pressedit 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 thecabin. At a given signal Joe and Sam cast the anchors off, they whizzedup to the engine-room, and the mighty ball bounded skyward like a birdin the clear, frosty morning air. A very brisk wind was blowing fromnearly due south, and the voyagers were delighted with the progress theymade that day toward their destination.

  All day they sped at more than forty miles an hour over the vastelevated plains that were but barren wastes, growing every hour drearierand more desolate.

  "Of all the misnomers on earth, the name given this country ranksfirst," 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 itsappropriateness, you can judge for yourselves. I do not know whobestowed upon it this misfit of a name, but it must have been a hardyexplorer, who did it in a fit of spleen and wretchedness."

  "The Barton family seems to be comfortable and happy in poor oldLabrador," 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 changesof temperature are far too sudden to permit raising of crops of anykind."

  "Mr. Barton told me that they did raise a little garden stuff, such asonions, lettuce, and radishes; but potatoes, corn, etc., invariably arenipped by frost, and never mature," said Denison.

  The Professor, a few moments before noon, ascended to the observatorywith sextant and chronometer, and determined the latitude and longitudeof "Silver Cloud," as Mrs. Jones had named the aluminum ship. He madethe entry in his logbook.

  "There is our exact position now, Doctor," and he placed the point of apencil on the map of Labrador.

  "In forty-eight hours we will be within the Arctics at this rate ofspeed," cried Dr. Jones, rubbing his hands with delight.

  The face of the country was so uninteresting and monotonous, coveredmore 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 gameswere long and closely contested. Victory perched about as often upon thebanner of one as the other.

  Fred worked daily upon a composition which he entitled "The North PoleMarch," and declared that the music should be played by himself, whilethe rest of the company marched around the aluminum flagstaff, after itserection at the summit of the earth, the North Pole. The two ladies weregreatly interested in Fred's composition, and hummed and sang it withhim, offering suggestions here and there that were of more or lessbenefit to him.

  Denison and Will spent their time attending to the springs, watching thethermometers and barometer. This, however, occupied but little of theirleisure, and they played many games of checkers and backgammon. Willtook an occasional snapshot with his camera when he saw anything ofinterest. He had taken some excellent photographs of Silver Cloud andcompany, which he had left with the Barton family. Who can doubt thatthey were an unfailing source of delight and tender remembrance to thisintelligent and interesting family, as they sat about their greatfireplace during the long winter nights. And the artist had taken somesketches of Constance House and inhabitants, which he had brought withhim. He had converted one of the spare bedrooms into a studio, and spentan hour or two daily upon a portrait in oil of Jennie Barton. The factof the matter is, the unadorned beauty and grace of the lovely Jenniehad touched his artistic taste beyond anything that he had everexperienced in his life. And away deep in his heart, almost unknown tohimself, was a determination to spend a summer season at ConstanceHouse, as soon after their return from the Pole as possible.

  Silver Cloud all this time was hastening with the speed of a carrierpigeon, nearly due north. Dr. Jones and Professor Gray could not represstheir satisfaction each day as their observations showed them to bemoving straight as an arrow toward the object of their journey. Thealtitude they maintained was very little more or less than threethousand feet, and the wind continued from the south at the rate oftwenty or thirty miles per hour. The outside temperature was balmy andbracing during the day, so that the balcony afforded them a splendidpromenade, where they spent hours daily, exercising in walking round andround the spacious cabin, and studying the topography of the country.Frequent trips were also made to the observatory, and sitting there withthe windows open was very inspiring, as well as comfortable. To thussit in so elevated a place with the windows wide open, while in a stateof perspiration, the result of climbing the long stairway, would seem tohave been the height of imprudence. But we must remember that such athing as a breeze or draft of air was never felt on board the SilverCloud while in motion. The great ship went exactly with the wind, and atprecisely the same rate of speed. So, whether the wind blew one or ahundred miles an hour, it was always a dead calm aboard the SilverCloud.

  "This is the ideal place for all catarrhal and pulmonary cases,"declared Dr. Jones. "I shall always prescribe a trip in Silver Cloud forthis class of patients hereafter."

  "I fully believe in its efficacy," said Professor Gray. "But I fear thatit will be too expensive a prescription for many of your poor patients."

  "That's the trouble, that's the trouble," assented the Doctor, shakinghis head sadly. "Millions are yearly dying that might be saved by thisand other means on the same line. But the blindness and selfishness ofmankind is so absolute and infernal that but little philanthropic workof this sort can be done. There are some noble exceptions, or we shouldhave 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 morehas been done in the past fifty years than in all the previous historyof the world."

  "Granted," assented the Doctor.

  "All right. Then let us look at the social, moral, and spiritual sidesof the question. Socially, certainly, no period of history can comparewith the present. We are educating our children, feeding and clothingthem 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 wasfairly smoking the little Doctor out, "what can you say for _your_ sideof the question? Was there ever a time when life and property were soprotected as now? And were there ever so many Bibles and tracts andother religious matter published and disseminated as at the presenttime? Missionaries are going by thousands all over the earth, and thegospel will soon have been preached to all nations."

  "That's so, that's so," concurred t
he 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," returnedhe. "But I will say this much: While I am not pessimistic as to theoutcome of this struggle going on between God's and Satan's forces inthe world, yet we should not overlook the fact that the devil isfearfully active in these times. While I have admitted all that Will hassaid, yet there is another side to the question. Let me call yourattention to the fact that there never was a time when there was so muchrum and tobacco used in the world as to-day. The amount consumed percapita is increasing tremendously. Remember that with every missionarythere are sent in the same ship from seventy-five to one hundred gallonsof intoxicants, and tobacco galore. Never has this world seen so vastpreparation for war. The people of all Europe are groaning beneath thetaxation imposed upon them for the support of vast armies and navies. Atno time has money been piled up in the hands of the few as at thepresent. Hundreds of millions in many instances are held by a singleindividual. By no sort of philosophy can he be entitled to it, and by nosystem can he come into possession of it without robbing thousands ofhis fellowmen. And as to inventions: surely no man delights more in thesplendid achievements of our age in this direction than I do. But Ideclare to you that I believe labor-saving machinery to be a mightycurse to mankind, because the laborer is being driven closer and closerto the wall by the innumerable inventions that are driving him out ofevery field of labor. The great money kings are taking advantage ofevery 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 hopeand believe to be terribly overdrawn. And, as I said before, I am notpessimistic as to the final outcome; but let us beware of crying 'Peace!peace! when there is no peace!' The fact is, gentlemen, I cannot helpthinking that St. James referred to these very times, when he said inthe fifth chapter of his epistle: "Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howlfor the miseries that shall come upon you. Your riches are corrupted andyour garments are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver is cankered; and therust of them shall be a witness against you, and shall eat your flesh asit were fire. Ye have heaped up treasure together for the last days.Behold, the hire of the laborers who have reaped down your fields, whichis of you kept back by fraud, crieth: and the cries of them who havereaped 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 isgrowing essentially better rapidly, if at all."

  "But, Doctor," said Will, "you cannot deny that the children of thesetimes are incomparably better clothed, have more and better books, livein more comfortable homes, and are enjoying privileges never known tochildren of former generations."

  "While I must assent to what you have said, yet all these advantages arenot unmixed blessings. In my experience as a physician, I have seen verymany precious lives go out, simply because they could not endure thehigh pressure system of our modern educators. I feel so strongly uponthis subject that I would prefer that a child of mine should live anddie absolutely illiterate, than that he should sacrifice one particle ofhealth for any conceivable amount of mere book-learning. I once had anuncle who was a man of wonderful learning. He was a collegian, a masterof half a dozen or more languages, and for all this he paid the price ofhis good health. All his life, he suffered the pangs of an outragedstomach and nervous system. He could never make any use of hissplendidly cultivated brain, and was a miserable, unhappy burden tohimself and friends to the end of his life. His end was sad, tinged withthe 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 certainlykilled him outright if his cries had not brought assistance. He neverrecovered from the effects of the injuries received on that occasion.Suppose poor old uncle could at that time have traded all his dead andmodern languages for a pair of good stout legs, would it not have been agrand bargain for him?"

  "But could not your uncle have been more judicious and systematic in theprosecution of his studies, and have done the same amount of workwithout detriment to his health?" asked Professor Gray.

  "I do not doubt that he might. But our schools are run nowadays upon, asI said before, a high-pressure system. Too many children are packed intoimperfectly ventilated schoolrooms, and the poor teachers are miserablyovertaxed. But the schools are graded, everything cut and dried, thecurriculum made by state or county board; and, like the tyrant'sbedstead, those too long must be cut off, and those too short must bestretched. All must fit the bedstead. That great story-teller, CharlesDickens, tells the story exactly in his picture of Dr. Blimmer's systemof teaching. That poor babe, Paul Dombey, might as well have been fed toan insatiable ogre as to have been placed in the hands of that pompousidiot. And our country is full of little Paul Dombeys, blossoming foreternity. How much better to have let the poor little fellow play in thesands upon the beach with his sister Florence and old Glubb. But theprecocious innocent must be murdered by this same senseless system,because of the inordinate vanity of a foolish father, and the stupidityof his teacher. In vain have I warned hundreds of parents, when I sawtheir children thus being hurried to premature graves. But they are soproud of the precocious darlings that they seldom heed until it is toolate. 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 andaccuracy, but when it came to prescribing the remedy, were utterlyimpracticable," said Professor Gray.

  "That is right, Professor Gray. It is very little benefit to a sick manto tell him that he is sick, or even to make for him a scientificdiagnosis, if it be not supplemented by the remedy. I have remedialmeasures to suggest. In the first place, I would build schoolhouses uponstrictly scientific principles; a certain number of cubic yards of pureair should be allowed each scholar, and the most perfect system ofventilation should always be used. Further, by way of homelyillustration, I should treat the children upon the same principles thatwe do our horses. Some horses are calculated for heavy draught business,others for light draught, roadsters, racers, etc. I need not mention thefolly of attempting to drive these animals out of their respectiveclasses. Now children differ as essentially in their mental capacitiesand requirements as do horses physically. You can by no possible meansmake a mathematician of a scholar who is deficient in the organ ofcalculation. It is a manifest injustice to hitch such a one besideanother who is a perfect racer in the mathematical field. It is not fairto either of them. I claim that each child should be treated upon hisindividual merits, and in accordance with the natural gifts that God hasbestowed upon him. The graded school system is in direct opposition tothis idea, and is wholly wrong and unscientific."

  "Well, as to the curriculum, Doctor," said Will, "suppose you werecalled upon to abridge the list of studies in our public schools, wherewould you begin and end? Isn't it a pity in this age of the world, toshut off from the children any one of the branches of science orlearning?"

  "Indeed, that would be a great pity, and far be it from me to doanything 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 teacherwho is not capable of so discriminating and anticipating the wants ofeach pupil, is not a teacher in the best sense of the word, any morethan a man is a horse trainer who cannot differentiate between a heavydraught-horse and a light roadster. I might say considerable as tomethods 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 isgetting better or not," returned Will. "I am willing to admit that ourschool system is defective. But what do you say as to the safety of lifeand property at this time, compared with any other age of the world?"

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

  "But that is not fair, Doctor. The Armenians are in the hands of theTurks and we know that they are capable of any conceivable inhumanity.I supposed that we were discussing the world so far as civilized. Ireally think that it is a clear case of 'begging the question,' when youintroduce the Armenian case into the discussion."

  "Do you, indeed! And let me inquire, my dear boy, who is responsible forthis wholesale slaughter of a people whose only crime is that of beingnominal Christians? Five or six centuries ago the combined governmentsof Europe would have made common cause against the infamous Turk formuch less than the murder of a Christian nation. But to-day there is somuch less of manhood in Europe than there was in the days of chivalry,that the civilized world is sitting calmly by and permitting thisunspeakable 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 astrict account for this villainy that marks the closing decade of thenineteenth century as the blackest page in human history? God willsurely avenge Armenia, and woe to Europe when He treads the wine-pressof His wrath!"

  As Will offered no reply, the discussion closed.