Hammers in the Fire [antikvár]

HAMMERS IN THE FIRE Life is full of surprises in the matter of strength and weakness. The wood breaks the saw, and the fabric the needle. The bridge condemned is the bridge that survives the flood. The hurricane sweeps away the split-level and leaves the shack. The unsinkable Titanic succumbs to the iceberg. The boasted weapon fails to fire. Most of you who hold these pages in your hands have never seen a blacksmith. You know more about nuclear fission than about shoeing a horse. But it isn't difficult to get the point of these time-worn words: 'Last eve I stood beside a blacksmith's door, And heard the anvil ring the vesper chime; Then, looking in, I saw upon the floor Old hammers, worn with beating years of time. 4 "How many anvils have you had," said I, 'To wear and batter all these hammers so?" "Just one," said he; and then with twinkling eyes, 'The anvil wears the hammers out, you know." ' The hammers - not the anvil - wearing out? No surprise to the blacksmith - but a mystery to the passerby. And hereby hangs a tale. This is the story of hammers. Hammers in the fire of a long and still unfinished controversy. Hammers in the fire of test and trial and time. It is alsó the story of an anvil that through the centuries, quietly but persistently, has been wearing the hammers out one by one. Wearing them out with the help of 3