some one who has too much work, but too little time and powers, in return for a definite pay; that is called serving.  But it was an unfortunate thing, he said, that most servants regarded this serving as a misfortune and their employers as their enemies or at least their oppressors; that they regarded it as an advantage to do as little as possible for them, to be able to waste as much time as possible in chattering, running, and sleeping; that they became unfaithful, for they withheld in this way from their masters what they had lent and sold to them—­time.  But as every disloyalty punished itself, so this also caused very direful consequences; for betrayal of the master was betrayal of oneself.  Every action tended imperceptibly to form a habit which we could never get rid of.  When a maid-servant or a man-servant had for years done as little as possible, worked as slowly as possible, always grumbled at each new task, and either run away, heedless of the outcome, or dawdled over it so that the very grass grew under their feet, had taken no pains with anything, spoiled as much as possible, never been careful but always indifferent to everything—­this soon formed a habit, and after a while it couldn’t be shaken off.  Such a habit would be carried along into each employment, and if in time independence came and marriage, then who had to bear these habits—­laziness, sloth, insubordination, discontent?  The man himself had to bear them and all their consequences, distress and calamity, until death, through death, and before God’s judgment seat.  He told us to look and see how many thousands were a burden to their fellows and an offense to God, dragging themselves around as repulsive creatures, visible witnesses to the thoughtful, how unfaithfulness punishes itself.”

“But as a man formed a habit by his acts, so also he made a name for himself among others.  For this name, for his reputation or esteem among men, every man worked from childhood to the grave; every little act, yes, every single word, contributed to this name.  This name opens or closes hearts to us, makes us worthy or unworthy, desired or rejected.  However humble a man, he has his name, and his fellows judge his value to them by it.  So every man-servant and maid-servant involuntarily creates a name, and the amount of their wages is determined by it; it opens a way to them or closes it.  Then it’s no use for a man to make long speeches and complain about former employers; that won’t give him a good name, for his actions have already given him a bad one.  His reputation would be known for miles around, one scarcely knew how.  This name was a wonderful thing, and yet people gave much too little thought to it, especially those with whom it was only second in importance to their habits of mind; with these two things they wished to gain a third, a good living in the world, wealth; and a fourth—­Heaven and its treasures.  What a wretched wight he was, then, who had bad habits and a bad name, and who was losing Heaven and earth!