OCR Text |
Show FATAL HASTE. As an excursion steamer neared the landing at Lake Quinsigamond at Worcester, Mass., on July 4th, there was a frantic rush from the shore to get on board, before those in the boat could land. The hurricane deck gave way and seven persons were drowned. On the same day the same fatal mishap was repeated at Morris Island, in New Jersey. Several hundred people crowded on to the boat the instant she touched the wharf; seventy-five were precipitated headlong into the water and were taken out more or less injured, while some were killed. Now, in both cases, there was plenty of room on board the boats for all who embarked, and there was plenty of time for them to embark quietly. The whole holiday was before them. Even if they had been left, they lost but an hour's amusement. Why, then should they rush and jostle madly as if on business of life and death? Simply because, we are sorry to confess, the normal condition of the average American is that of frantic haste. Look at the throng leaving a train or ferry, or entering a popular place of amusement in any large city. You would suppose that every man was on his way to a dying mother, while, in all probability, not one has a single reason for any haste whatever. In France a crowd silently falls at once into a "queue," or line; each man is served in turn; or if he enters a public conveyance, he does it quietly, lifting his hat to those before him. In a word, he conducts himself like a rational being, and not an animal at feeding-time. Yet the American, to be just, would be more apt to make way for his fellowman in essential things than would his foreign brother. We have made it a national habit to strain, to hurry, to live at a white heat. In consequence, we wear out body and brain at middle age, or live a prey to countless nervous diseases. The calm, slow, careful lives of the Friends [i.e. Quakers] offer the reverse side of the picture. They make haste slowly, and no class in the country attain a higher or fuller measure of success. |