scorn the good the gods
provide us. In Mr. Reade's book on _Study and Stimulants_, Matthew
Arnold says, a moderate use of wine adds to the agreeableness of life,
and whatever adds to the agreeableness of life, adds to its resources and
powers. There cannot be a doubt that the bodily frame is capable of
being wearied, and that it needs repose and refreshment, and this is a
law which a man trifles with at his peril. The same is true of the
intellectual and moral faculties. They claim rest and refreshment; they
must have comfort and pleasure or they will begin to flag. It must also
be always remembered that in the every-day work of this world the body
and the mind have to go through a great deal which is depressing and
taxing to the energy, and a certain amount of "set off" is required to
keep the balance even. We must remember this especially with respect to
the poor. Pipes and cigars may be a luxury to the idle and rich, but we
ought not to grudge a pipe to a poor man who is overworked and miserable.
Some degree of comfort we all feel to be at times essential when we have
a comfortless task to perform. With good food and sleep, for instance,
we can get through the roughest work; with the relaxation of pleasant
society we can do the most tedious daily work. If, on the other hand, we
are worried and uncomfortable, we become unfitted for our business. We
all have our troubles to contend against, and we require comfort,
relaxation, stimulation of some sort to help us in the battle. There are
certain duties which most of us have to perform, and which, to use a
common expression, "take it out of us." Thus most of us are compelled to
travel more or less. An old gentleman travelling by coach on a long
journey wished to sleep off the tediousness of the night, but his
travelling companion woke him up every ten minutes with the inquiry,
"Well, sir, how are you by this." At last the old gentleman's patience
was fairly tired out. "I was very well when I got into the coach, and
I'm very well now, and if any change takes place I'll let you know." I
was coming from London to Beckenham, and in the carriage with me was a
gentleman quietly and attentively reading the newspaper. A lady opposite
to him, whenever we came to a station, cried out, "Oh, what station's
this, what station's this?" Being told, she subsided, more or less, till
the next station. The gentleman's patience was at last exhausted. "If
there is any _part