lives, than these too wise individuals; and that something is best to be found in athletic sports.  It was a genuine impulse which led Sir Humphrey Davy to care more for fishing than even for chemistry, and made Byron prouder of his swimming than of “Childe Harold,” and induced Sir Robert Walpole always to open his gamekeeper’s letters first, and his diplomatic correspondence afterwards.  Athletic sports are “boyish,” are they?  Then they are precisely what we want.  We Americans certainly do not have much boyhood under the age of twenty, and we must take it afterwards or not at all.

Who can describe the unspeakable refreshment for an overworked brain, of laying aside all cares, and surrendering one’s self to simple bodily activity?  Laying them aside!  I retract the expression; they slip off unnoticed.  You cannot embark care in your wherry; there is no room for the odious freight.  Care refuses to sit behind the horseman, despite the Latin sentence; you leave it among your garments when you plunge into the river, it rolls away from the rolling cricket-ball, the first whirl in the gymnasium disposes of it, and you are left free, as boys and birds are free.  If athletic amusements did nothing for the body, they would still be medicine for the soul.  Nay, it is Plato who says that exercise will almost cure a guilty conscience,—­and can we be indifferent to this, my fellow-sinner?

Why will you persist in urging that you “cannot afford” these indulgences, as you call them?  They are not indulgences,—­they are necessaries.  Charge them, in your private account-book, under the heads of food and clothing, and as a substitute for your present enormous items under the head of medicine.  O mistaken economist! can you afford the cessation of labor and the ceaseless drugging and douching of your last few years?  Did not all your large experience in the retail-business teach you the comparative value of the ounce of prevention and the pound of cure?  Are not fresh air and cold water to be had cheap? and is not good bread less costly than cake and pies?  Is not the gymnasium a more economical institution than the hospital? and is not a pair of skates a good investment, if it aids you to elude the grasp of the apothecary?  Is the cow Pepsin, on the whole, a more frugal hobby to ride than a good saddle-horse?  Besides, if you insist upon pecuniary economy, do begin by economizing on the exercise which you pay others for taking in your stead,—­on the corn and pears which you buy in the market, instead of removing to a suburban house and raising them yourself,—­and in the reluctant silver you pay the Irishman who splits your wood.  Or if, suddenly reversing your line of argument, you plead that this would impoverish the Irishman, you can at least treat him as you do the organ-grinder, and pay him an extra fee to go on to your next neighbor.