The Town Child

the light. The most auspicious omens heralded his coming, promises of a golden future, rich beyond the imagination of a dream, hovered about his cradle. The fairy godmother of science, a female of benignant though somewhat austere countenance, showered her choicest gifts upon the infant. "You," she said, "as the latest born of the ages and the heir to all the accumulated treasures of the past, shall be the happiest and the most blessed among the generations of mankind. At my command the forces of nature shall do you homage and become the obedient servants of your will. I will harness the fire to your chariot and give you the lightning for your messenger. Machines of my devising shall toil in your stead and increase tenfold your command over the needs, the luxuries and the delights of existence. I will show you a cunning art to stem the ravages of diseases, to soothe the throb of pain, to rob death of his terrors and fill life with joy. Only follow my bidding, babe of my good pleasure, and you shall enter into possession of the fair heritage I have laboured to secure you." Fifty years have gone by and civilisation looks at the travail of its soul and is not satisfied. Joyful anticipation has given place to painful doubt, doubt in turn to disillusionment, and disillusionment is hardening, under the stress of long years of bitter experience, into a state of grim and resigned despair. Only the narrowest and most prejudiced survey can be blind to the evils and t...