‘Because in this case the centre of gravity is supported by keeping the hand in a proper position under it. When the weight is at the top of the stick, it has a larger arc to traverse in falling from the perpendicular than if it were lower down, and the person who balances it has a proportionately longer time to move his hand so as to give it the necessary support. In other words, the higher the centre of gravity is, the farther it has to fall, and the more time there is to check it while falling.
‘Do you ever walk on stilts? If so, you will know that it is much easier to keep the balance upon high stilts than on low ones. In some parts of France the people are in the constant habit of walking about on stilts. The elevation enables them to see farther across the level plains, and to observe where their flocks are feeding. If they were to fall they would describe a large arc, and come down with great force, but they do not fall. A very slight movement of the stilt is sufficient to keep it under their centre of gravity. If they were lower down, greater exertion and a swifter movement would be necessary to correct every unsteadiness. Men cannot stand still upon stilts, because there are no muscles at the foot of the stilt to play upon the ground and react upon the body. Observe, then, that when the base is movable, as in balancing a ladder with a donkey on it, or in walking upon stilts, the higher up the weight is the better. But when the base is not movable, the lower down the centre of gravity is, the less risk there will be of an upset. Boats have often been capsized by timid people standing up in a moment of alarm, and so raising the centre of gravity, and coaches by having too great a load of passengers and luggage on the roof, with no “insides.” The great thing is to keep the centre of gravity supported, and then, though it be but a pin’s point resting upon that of a needle, there can be no fall.’
‘Yes; but one can’t always be thinking about one’s centre of gravity.’
‘It is not necessary. Habit or instinct supplies all that is wanted. You balance yourselves from the time you get out of bed in the morning till you go to bed again at night, without ever thinking about it. Only when you stand on one leg, or go into dangerous places, are you conscious of the effort you are making. Your Maker has ordered it thus, that you may guard against accidents, and yet be free from constant care and trouble in doing so. Even the birds are taught to place their heads under their wings when sleeping, so as to render their form more compact and their balance more perfect.
‘Walking has to be acquired in infancy, and until the foot has learnt to use its muscles unconsciously and rightly, the child has many a fall. There are also two ways of walking, a right and a wrong way. Some men sway from side to side as they walk, altering the centre of gravity at every step, and being obliged to straggle their feet accordingly to support it. A well-drilled soldier, on the contrary, keeps his body steady, and uses his legs for the forward movement only. Of course he gets over the ground much faster and with less exertion than the sloucher. Balancing, like everything else, has to be learnt, and, when learnt, is practised without any trouble. There was a man once who had been a cripple from his mother’s womb, and who never had walked. Suddenly the use of his limbs was given him—“his feet and ankle bones received strength.” If that had been all, it might have taken him days or weeks to learn the right use of his muscles; he would not have been able, without much practice, even to stand upright. But the miracle was carried beyond this. St. Peter’s words to the cripple were, “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk. And he leaping up stood, and entered with them into the temple, walking, and leaping, and praising God.” Not only was strength given him, but skill to use it; he was to “rise and walk,” and was enabled to do so at once.
‘That completeness of cure was intended to teach what the power of the Saviour can do for the soul in all ages, as then for the body. Our strength, and the instinct by which we apply it, come to us gradually, and not by a miracle: but let us think about it sometimes, and be thankful for it all the same.’
Transcriber’s Notes
This transcription follows the original printed work; inconsistencies in spelling, lay-out, hyphenation, etc. have been retained, except as mentioned below.