In Which Century was Life the Most Enjoyed?

Golden Bay Argus, Volume VII, Issue 69, 26 September 1901, Page 3

In Which Century was Life the Most Enjoyed?

This curious and sentimental question lias been agitating the minds of a number of literary men in England for some time, and Mr. Justin McCarthy casts his vote for the fifth century 8.. C, when he could have shared in the glories of Penicles. The age in which he would not have liked to live at any price is the Elizabethan, and not even the chance of meeting Shakespeare would have reconciled him to the sway of that remarkable woman.

Mr. H. W. Lucy—the inimitable "Toby," M.P., and familiar to us as the brilliant correspondent of the "Sydney Morning Herald"—in writing to "M.A.P.," says : " You ask me to tell you what century I would like to have been born in, leaving the nineteenth out of 'consideration. That is, for various reasons, an injunction I cannot obey. In the first place, I may say that the nineteenth century is the only one of which (up to now) I have had personal experience. Others I know of only by repute. Apart from the natural inclination of a journalist to stick to facts, I am, I trust, incapable of slighting old friends. I will, therefore, answer your inquiry by saying that, on the whole, I would, assuming choice had been offered me, have left matters as Providence ordered them, content to live in the nineteenth century. For preference I would certainly cling to the latter half through which my life has sped. The difference in the incidence of daily life as compared in the epochs 1800-1850 and 1850-1900 is enormous. I do not speak of such grave matters as the improvement of the lot of the toiler in town or field. But think of the change in the life and habits of the ordinary citizen. He has a better house, purer water, improved drainage, cheaper bread, gas, electric light, wider variety of food, cheaper means of locomotion, all the world at his finger-end when lie takes up his newspaper, and books in abundance sold at prices to bring them within the reach of the poorest, while facilities for foreign travel cover the habitable globe with beneficent network. Possibly, nay probably, the century just born may hide in its young bosom changes as complete as that established in the life of man who used to trundle to York by coach and now flashes thither by train. lam content with what I have seen, suffered, and enjoyed." Signalling to Mars. Nikola Tesla is preparing a new surprise for the scientific world, and his trusted workmen, sworn to inviolable secrecy, are aiding him in putting the finishing touches upon an untried instrument for flashing signals to Mars. This is the description of the apparatus given by one who recently visited it: . From a stout beam in the centre ot tiie rough-hewn ceiling hung three dazzling, pulsating clots of purple violet light. The room glowed with the warmth of colour. The hue was indescribably brilliant. The three centres of light sent out wave after wave of a strange, unearthly rich colour—a hue that is not listed in the spectrum. Above and below the beams twisted long glass spirals, closely coiled—snakes of beating, violet flame. There was no snapping spark now and then to indicate the touch of electric current. The centres of light seemed more like the illumination from a half-opaque gas mantle, but beating like a pulse. One of Tesla's workmen found the unannounced visitor spellbound. A quick spring to the wall, a concealed button touched, and darkness. Those who know say this violet light is wizard Tesla's new flash signal to the Martians. He will reveal it to the world It is even hinted that Tesla has already wig-wagged the red planet and had a reply.

The nameless graves of the rank and file in South Africa lie more scattered than on any other battlefield.