weeds grow. It is in the stagnant water that disease germs waken to
horrid life. Ennui palls upon a brave heart. Ennui is like a
long-winded, amiable, but watery-idea'd friend who drops in to see us
and dribbles platitudes until every nerve is tapped. Ennui is like
being forced to drink tepid water or to eat soup without salt. Labor,
on the contrary, is like a friend with grit and tonic in his make-up.
It comes to us as a wind visits the forest, and sets our faculties
stirring as the wind rustles the leaves and sets the wood fragrance
flying. It puts spice in our broth and ice in our drink. It puts a
flavor in life that starts an appetite, or, in other words, awakens
ambition. Although the world is full of toilers it would be worse off
were it full of idlers. Good, hard workers find no time to make
mischief. Your anarchists and your breeders of discord are never found
among busy men; they breed, like mosquitoes, out of stagnant places.
It is the idle man that quickens hatred and contention, as it is the
setting hen and not the scratching one that hatches out the eggs.




XLVI.

PAINTING THE OLD HOMESTEAD.

It had been a battle renewed for more years than there are dandelions
just now in the front yard. Various members of the family had declared
from time to time that if the old house was not painted it would fall
to pieces from sheer mortification at its own disreputable appearance.

"Why, you can put your toothpick right through the rotten shingles,"