The pattern of a newspaperman's life is like the plot of 'Black Beauty.' Sometimes he finds a kind master who gives him a dry stall and an occasional bran mash in the form of a Christmas bonus sometimes he falls into the hands of a mean owner who drives him in spite of spavins and expects him to live on potato peelings.
You can't stop technology or science and it is snowballing quicker than ever. Something's got to come to a head. How? Who knows? But it will.