The Birmingham age-herald., 1916-06-14
The Modern Speed Mania Which
 Loses More For Us Than It Gains
By DOLLY DALRYMPLE

| "HE other day I was rushing down one of the main thoroughfares Of
 \ Birmingham. quickly passing peo- pie I knew, and those I didn't, cutting corners in the face of street cars, and dashing along like the "Black Marie (when have you heard that expression beforeO when suddenly I stopped and said to myself:
 Why am I going so fast? Nothing but life or death ought to make anybody stampede like I'm doing, and what on earth am 1 flying so fast for, as if some friend was chasing me?"
 I had to admit that there was noth-
 ing to warrant my undue haste; that the day was still young, and I might just as well lessen my speed and take little more interest in my surroundings; I be- gan to slow down" and note the women who were passing me, to see if they, too, were tearing like mad as if pursued by furies and devils, and whether I was the only one alive who lacked composure of manner.
 Alas and alack! I may say at once that I was not alone in the mad haste that 1 was making; almost all the women and every one of the men I met, were
 
 just as was doing, and the whole thing looked like a conglomorate muddle of human ants, frsking and running about like something crazy.
 Here and there I saw some sweet girl graduate and her "bestest beau" walking lazily along, going into some popular place for a cool drink or sauntering into a movie but the most of us were staying, rushing, tearing, running, like wild
 The speed mania is more or less of disease; when someone else passes us in hurry, we unconsciously quicken our step, unwilling to be laggard in the race; for it is nothing less than race of life in which we are all apparently engaged. although for what prize we are striving and why we couldn't get it just as well if we only slackened our pace bit, I do not know.
 You can't help wondering what we do with all our saved time;' that which is left over after the mad rush; if we get about so much faster and seemingly accomplish so much more than our an- cestors used to be able to do what on earth becomes of the precious hours that our rushing minutes must gain for us?
 suppose we do accomplish more than our forefathers did, as we have so many more rapid transit facilities, and we ought to be able to do more, because we have so many labor saving devices in our homes-things that accomplish the work faster than anyone could imagine; the various quick transportation methods en- able us to go to more places and in con- sequence we are on the go most of the time instead of staying at home like our mothers used to do.
 What, though, after all, do we gain by so much speed? Do we gain anything; that is the question?
 "a I1xr of Oot lin let us hope we put to some good use, al though the majority of us 1 fancy still say at the close of the day:
 1T haven't accomplished half what expected to-
 What we lose by too much haste seems to be more apparent than what we gain: we cannot be as well physically as those who took life more moderately: we are bound to be more nervous. hurrying as we do, living in the midst of many noises and keeping ourselves at such a high tension causes us automatically to obey the safety first impulse.
 Flying along the countryside in speeding motor, we pass so rapidly that we can't tell a flower from a COW.
 Was that bird that flew out of the thicket just then?" someone asks.
 ''It looked more like thrasher to me-" says someone else
 Wasn't that a wonderful flower?" asks another.
 v'Why that wasn't @ flower; 1t was a washtub," comes the next observation.
 And the funny part of it all is that nobody in the speeding motor will even know what any of the things they passed really were unless they take a day off and SO out quietly and 1eisurely and see.
 I read recently a little poem about an old Scotchman and his horse wherein the man expressed to the dumb companion his opinion concerning the speeding ve- hicles they passed on the road he men