The moral drawn from these facts is that to govern the supply of tissue and energy by means of food, nature indicates for us the same principle of affluence which controls the entire construction of the animal for the safety of its life and the perpetuation of its species. In other words, we should eat not just enough to preserve life, but a good deal more. In such cases safety is more important than economy.—S. J. Meltzer, Science.
(46)
AGE
"There are in the suburbs of Rome,"
says Cosmos, "two farms where antique
medals are made in large quantities. This
would seem to be a singular agricultural
product, yet nothing is more exact. The
people who devote themselves to this odd
industry cause to be swallowed by turkeys
coins or medals roughly struck with the
effigy of Tiberius or Caligula. After remaining
for some time in the bodies of the
fowls, the little disks of metal become coated
with a remarkable 'patina.' If this coating
were only the result of the gastro-intestinal
voyage, it would be easy to secure it by
treating the coins to be aged with dilute
hydrochloric acid, for instance. But the
mechanical action of the tiny stones contained
in the gizzard is added to the purely
chemical action of the gastric juice, partially
effacing the figures and toning down the
hardness of the features. It is to be feared
that some of the specimens in our public
collections have been obtained by this curious
process."
(47)
AGE AND EXPERIENCE
We might find an argument against the "dead line" in such facts as the following:
We make a great mistake in America when
we lay our older men on the shelf, while
they are still in their prime as counselors.
Benjamin Franklin was sent to France as a
minister when he was seventy years old, and
the best work he did for his country, he did
between his seventy-first and seventy-eighth
years. The State of New York had an absurd
statute which removed Chancellor Kent
from the bench because he was sixty-five.
After that time he wrote and published his
"Commentaries," a book recognized as one
of the most important books in the study of
our jurisprudence. So much good did the
country gain from one of the frequent absurdities
of New York legislation. In England,
Lord Palmerston and Mr. Gladstone
are recent instances, well remembered, of
the force which statesmen gain, almost by
the law of geometrical progression, from
their memory of the experiments which fail,
from what I call organic connection with
the national life of the last two generations.—Edward
Everett Hale, The Chautauquan.
(48)
AGE AND ORATORY
This is the description of one who had the privilege of hearing Gladstone, in the autumn of 1896, make his last great oration in Liverpool:
See the old man with slow and dragging
steps advancing from the door behind the
platform to his seat before that sea of eager
faces. The figure is shrunken. The eyelids
droop. The cheeks are as parchment. Now
that he sits, his hands lean heavily upon his
staff. We think, "Ah, it is too late; the
fire has flickered out; the speech will be
but the dead echo of bygone glories." But
lo! he rises. The color mantles to his face.
He stands erect, alert. The great eyes open
full upon his countrymen. Yes, the first
notes are somewhat feeble, somewhat painful;
but a few minutes pass, and the noble
voice falls as the solemn music of an organ
on the throng. The eloquent arms seem to
weave a mystic garment for his oratory. The
involved sentences unfold themselves with a
perfect lucidity. The whole man dilates.
The soul breaks out through the marvelous
lips. Age? Not so! this is eternal youth.
He is pleading for mercy to an outraged
people, for fidelity to a national obligation,
for courage and for conscience in a tremendous
crisis. And the words from the Revised
Version of the Psalms seem to print
themselves on the listener's heart: "Thou
hast made him but little lower than God,
and crownest him with glory and honor."
(Text.)
(49)
AGE, THE NEW
Frederick Lawrence Knowles writes this optimistic outlook for the future:
When memory of battles,
At last is strange and old,
When nations have one banner
And creeds have found one fold,
When the Hand that sprinkles midnight
With its powdered drift of suns
Has hushed this tiny tumult
Of sects and swords and guns;
