his motor, his late hours. His cigars have been good, but he has never
enjoyed them so much as he did the old pipe at camp. His dinners and
late suppers can't compare with the fish and bacon of the woods.

What a fool he has been!

Perhaps he has caught himself in time. If so he is in luck and Nature
may partially forgive him and give him a chance to "come back." He is
well scared and he means to be good. But the scare wears off, and then,
too, "business" presses him on again. And finally, still well this side
of sixty, perhaps, Nature taps him on the shoulder and says, "Stop!"

"But," he pleads, "I'll be good!"

"You are in the way," she replies, "and the sooner you make place for
wiser men the better I shall have my work done."

But it is not alone the business world that is full of these untimely
breakdowns. We lose many a man in the professional ranks with ten years
of his best work before him, the man of ripened intellect, with his
store of reading and experience--stopped oftentimes in the very midst of
that masterpiece whose volumes would be read by future generations.

Executives whose value to corporations is increasing in a compound
degree suddenly receive notice that the continually bent bow is
cracking; almost immediately they lose their ambition and initiative,
they become prematurely aged. These are indeed expensive losses!

And all this could be saved at an expenditure of a few paltry hours a
week devoted to the repair of the physical man; given that and we may