The Drift to Cities.
In the closing chapter of this book it may be permissible to glance for a moment at a few of the social and national consequences of invention. While, as we have seen in earlier chapters, the economic gains of ingenuity surpass computation, the work of the inventor has brought in its train evil as well as good, and this evil, with the further march of invention, is being plainly lessened year by year. A century ago about one tenth of the people in North America lived in cities and towns; to-day these centers of population hold nearly one half the families of the continent. Many observers regard this drift from country to city and town with dislike and alarm, without recognizing it to be inevitable. They paint pictures of country folk attracted by the superficial allurements of the city, a poor exchange for the wholesomeness and freedom of life in the country. They argue that with wise education the boys and girls reared on the farm will remain there, greatly to the gain of themselves and the nation. These critics leave out of view the feats of the inventor. Between 1870 and 1880 the self-binding harvester was perfected and introduced. Before its advent six or seven men followed every harvester to tie its shocks of grain. After the self-binder came into vogue, five of these men were no longer needed. Other inventions, planters, corn-shellers, and the like, as economical of labor, have been placed in the farmer’s hands within the past thirty years. The result being that to raise on farms the food for a million men, women and children, a greatly reduced staff in the field suffices to-day in comparison with the number required thirty or forty years ago. And what has become of the country population thus thrown out of work by thews of steel and brass? It has quietly betaken itself to towns and cities where, for the most part, it is manufacturing new comforts and luxuries for all the people, whether in town or country. In 1870 out of 100 wage-earners in the United States, 29 were engaged in manufactures, trade and transportation; in 1900 the corresponding figure had risen to 40. Enter this morning the house of a thrifty farmer or mechanic: you tread on a neat carpet, you see good furniture, a piano in the parlor, a bicycle in the barn. On the walls are attractive pictures, flanked by shelves of books and magazines. In not a few such houses one may find a telephone and electric lamps. As recently as 1870 some of these things did not exist at all, even for the rich. To-day they are enjoyed by millions. So with clothing: it is to-day better and cheaper than ever before. Food, too, is more varied and more wholesome than of yore, thanks to the express train, the quick steamer, the cold storage warehouse. All these agencies of betterment, and many more, are conducted in cities as the centers of capital, industry and population. While invention has, in the main, tended to make cities bigger than ever, it is now modifying that tendency by its rapid trolley lines to suburbs, its steamboat and railroad services constantly quickened in pace and lowered in fares. On the outskirts of Greater New York it is still possible for a wage-earner to buy land for a house and small garden, the burden of rent, liable to yearly increase, being escaped for good and all.