Now, suppose
that quay had been of granite (as surely it is now)--or, instead of the
quay, if there had been, say, a North Atlantic fog there, with a full-
grown iceberg in it awaiting the gentle contact of a ship groping its way
along blindfold? Something would have been hurt, but it would not have
been the iceberg.
Apparently, there is a point in development when it ceases to be a true
progress--in trade, in games, in the marvellous handiwork of men, and
even in their demands and desires and aspirations of the moral and mental
kind. There is a point when progress, to remain a real advance, must
change slightly the direction of its line. But this is a wide question.
What I wanted to point out here is--that the old _Arizona_, the marvel of
her day, was proportionately stronger, handier, better equipped, than
this triumph of modern naval architecture, the loss of which, in common
parlance, will remain the sensation of this year. The clatter of the
presses has been worthy of the tonnage, of the preliminary paeans of
triumph round that vanished hull, of the reckless statements, and
elaborate descriptions of its ornate splendour.
Pages:
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320