loudly than war has ever done, but it will ask its men not to die bravely,
but to live wisely, and above all truthfully to watch their accounts.

The Twentieth Century will find room for pure science as well as for
applied science and ingenious invention. Each Helmholtz of the future will
give rise to a thousand Edisons. Exact knowledge must precede any form of
applications. The reward of pure science will be, in the future as in the
past, of its own kind, not fame nor money, but the joy of finding truth. To
this joy no favor of fortune can add. The student of nature in all the ages
has taken the vow of poverty. To him money, his own or others, means only
the power to do more or better work.

The Twentieth Century will have its share in literature and art. Most of
the books it will print will not be literature, for idle books are written
for idle people, and many idle people are left over from less insistent
times. The books sold by the hundred thousands to men and women not trained
to make time count, will be forgotten before the century is half over. The
books it saves will be books of its own kind, plain, straightforward,
clear-cut, marked by that "fanaticism for veracity" which means everything
else that is good in the intellectual and moral development of man. The
literature of form is giving way already to the literature of power. We
care less and less for the surprises and scintillations of clever fellows;
we care more and more for the real thoughts of real men. We find that the
deepest thoughts can be expressed in the simplest language. "A straight
line is the shortest distance between two points" in literature as well as
in mechanics. "In simplicity is strength," as Watt said of machinery, and
it is true in art as well as in mechanics.

In medicine, the field of action is growing infinitely broader, now that
its training is securely based on science, and the divining rod no longer