octor; but it struck
me, while you were speaking, that in reading the newspaper you do not
hear the bark of the lawyers.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ True; but no one who has once heard the wow-wow
can fail to reproduce it in imagination.
_Mrs. Opimian._ You have omitted accidents, which occupy a large space
in the newspaper. If the world grew ever so honest, there would still be
accidents.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ But honesty would materially diminish the
number. High-pressure steam-boilers would not scatter death and
destruction around them, if the dishonesty of avarice did not tempt
their employment, where the more costly low pressure would ensure
absolute safety. Honestly built houses would not come suddenly down and
crush their occupants. Ships, faithfully built and efficiently manned,
would not so readily strike on a lee shore, nor go instantly to pieces
on the first touch of the ground. Honestly made sweetmeats would not
poison children; honestly compounded drugs would not poison patients. In
short, the larger portion of what we call accidents are crimes.
_Mrs. Opimian._ I have often heard you say, of railways and
steam-vessels, that the primary cause of their disasters is the insane
passion of the public for speed. That is not crime, but folly.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ It is crime in those who ought to know better
than to act in furtherance of the folly. But when the world has grown
honest, it will no doubt grow wise. When we have got rid of crime, we
may consider how to get rid of folly. So that question is adjourned to
the Greek kalends.
_Mrs. Opimian._ There are always in a newspaper some things of a
creditable character.
_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ When we are at war, naval and military heroism
abundantly; but in time of peace these virtues sleep. They are laid up
like ships in ordinary. No doubt, of the recorded facts of civil life
some are good, and more are indifferent, neither good nor bad; but good
and indifferent together are scarcely more than a twelfth part of the
whole. Still, the matters thus presented are all exceptional cases. A
hermit reading nothing but a newspaper might find little else than
food for misanthropy; but living among friends, and in the bosom of
our family, we see the dark side of life in the occasional picture,
the bright is its every-day aspect The occasional is the matter of
curiosity, of incident, of adventure, of things that really happen
to few, and may possibly happen
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