end as the man or woman who is
holding it will permit. The knees are drawn up, the muscles of the legs
tense, the hands and arms contracted, and the fingers clinched, either
holding the pillow or themselves.

The head, instead of letting the pillow have its full weight, holds
itself onto the pillow. The tongue cleaves to the roof of the mouth,
the throat muscles are contracted, and the muscles of the face drawn up
in one way or another.

This seems like a list of horrors, somewhat exaggerated when we realize
that it is of sleep, "Tired Nature's sweet restorer," that we are
speaking; but indeed it is only too true.

Of course cases are not in the majority where the being supposed to
enjoy repose is using _all_ these numerous possibilities of
contraction. But there are very few who have not, unconsciously, some
one or two or half-dozen nervous and muscular strains; and even after
they become conscious of the useless contractions, it takes time and
watchfulness and patience to relax out of them, the habit so grows upon
us. One would think that even though we go to sleep in a tense way,
after being once soundly off Nature could gain the advantage over us,
and relax the muscles in spite of ourselves; but the habits of
inheritance and of years are too much for her. Although she is so
constantly gracious and kind, she cannot go out of her way, and we
cannot ask her to do so.

How simple it seems to sleep in the right way; and how wholesome it is
even to think about it, in contrast to the wrong way into which so many
of us have fallen. If we once see clearly the great compensation in
getting back to the only way of gaining restful sleep, the process is
very simple, although because we were so far out of the right path it
often seems slow. But once gained, or even partially gained, one great
enemy to healthful, natural nerves is conquered, and has no possibility
of power.

Of course the mind and its rapid and misdirected working is a strong
preventive of free nerves, relaxed muscles, and natural sleep. "If I
could only stop myself from thinking" is a complaint often heard, and
reason or philosophy does not seem to touch it. Even the certain
knowledge that nothing is gained by this rapid thought at the wrong
time, that very much is lost, makes no impression on the overwrought
mind,--often even excites it more, which proves that the trouble, if
originally mental, has now gained such a hold upon the physique that it
must be