CHAPTER X.
LABOR AND REST.
Among the troubles of life I do not, of course, reckon the necessity of labor.
Work indeed, and hard work, if only it is in moderation, is in itself a rich source of happiness. We all know how quickly time passes when we are well employed, while the moments hang heavily on the hands of the idle. Occupation drives away care and all the small troubles of life. The busy man has no time to brood or to fret.
"From toil he wins his spirits light,
From busy day the peaceful night;
Rich, from the very want of wealth,
In Heaven's best treasures, peace and health." [1]
This applies especially to the labor of the field and the workshop. Humble it may be, but if it does not dazzle with the promise of fame, it gives the satisfaction of duty fulfilled, and the inestimable blessing of health. As Emerson reminds those entering life, "The angels that live with them, and are weaving laurels of life for their youthful brows, are toil and truth and mutual faith."
Labor was truly said by the ancients to be the price which the gods set upon everything worth having. We all admit, though we often forget, the marvellous power of perseverance, and yet all Nature, down to Bruce's spider, is continually impressing this lesson on us.
Hard writing, it has been said, makes easy reading; Plato is said to have rewritten the first page of the Republic thirteen times; and Carlo Maratti, we are told, sketched the head of Antinoüs three hundred times before he wrought it to his satisfaction.
It is better to wear out than to rust out, and there is "a dust which settles on the heart, as well as that which rests upon the ledge." [2]
But though labor is good for man, it may be, and unfortunately often is, carried to excess. Many are wearily asking themselves