You know that the primitive man lacks power of application.  Spurred by hunger, by danger or revenge he can exert himself energetically for a time, but his energy is spasmodic.  Monotonous daily toil is impossible to him.  It is otherwise with the more developed man.  The stern discipline of social life has gradually increased the aptitude for persistent industry; until among us, and still more among you, work has become with many a passion.  This contrast of nature is another aspect.  The savage thinks only of present satisfactions and leaves future satisfactions uncared for.  Contrariwise the American, eagerly pursuing a future good almost ignores what good the passing day offers him; and when the future good is gained, he neglects that while striving for some still remoter good.

What I have seen and heard during my stay among you has forced on me the belief that this slow change from habitual inertness to persistent activity has reached an extreme from which there must begin a counter-change—­a reaction.  Everywhere I have been struck with the number of faces which told in strong lines of the burdens that had to be borne.  I have been struck, too, with the large proportion of gray-haired men; and inquiries have brought out the fact that with you the hair commonly begins to turn some ten years earlier than with us.  Moreover, in every circle I have met men who had themselves suffered from nervous collapse due to the stress of business, or named friends who had either killed themselves by overwork or had been permanently incapacitated or had wasted long periods in endeavors to recover health.  I do but echo the opinion of all the observant persons I have spoken to that immense injury is being done by this high-pressure life—­the physique is being undermined.  That subtle thinker and poet whom you have lately had to mourn—­Emerson,—­says in his “Essay on the Gentleman,” that the first requisite is that he shall be a good animal.  The requisite is a general one—­it extends to man, the father, the citizen.  We hear a great deal about the “vile body”; and many are encouraged by the phrase to transgress the laws of health.  But Nature quietly suppresses those who treat thus disrespectfully one of her highest products and leaves the world to be peopled by the descendants of those who are not so foolish.

Beyond these immediate mischiefs, there are remoter mischiefs.  Exclusive devotion to work has the result that amusements cease to please; and when relaxation becomes imperative, life becomes dreary from lack of its sole interest—­the interest in business.  The remark current in England that when the American travels, his aim is to do the greatest amount of sight-seeing in the shortest time, I find current here also; it is recognized that the satisfaction of getting on devours nearly all other satisfactions.  When recently at Niagara, which gave us a whole week’s pleasure, I learned from the landlord of the hotel that most Americans come one day and go away the next.