appropriated, the habits of the laboring classes; in proportion,
also, to the success of my labor, my demands for labor from others
grew less and less, and my life naturally, without exertion or
privations, approached that simple existence of which I could not
even dream without fulfilling the law of labor.

It proved that my dearest demands from life, namely, my demands for
vanity, and diversion from ennui, arose directly from my idle life.
There was no place for vanity, in connection with physical labor;
and no diversions were needed, since my time was pleasantly
occupied, and, after my fatigue, simple rest at tea over a book, or
in conversation with my fellows, was incomparably more agreeable
than theatres, cards, conceits, or a large company,--all which
things are needed in physical idleness, and which cost a great deal.

In answer to the question, Would not this unaccustomed toil ruin
that health which is indispensable in order to render service to the
people possible? it appeared, in spite of the positive assertions of
noted physicians, that physical exertion, especially at my age,
might have the most injurious consequences (but that Swedish
gymnastics, the massage treatment, and so on, and other expedients
intended to take the place of the natural conditions of man's life,
were better), that the more intense the toil, the stronger, more
alert, more cheerful, and more kindly did I feel. Thus it
undoubtedly appeared, that, just as all those cunning devices of the
human mind, newspapers, theatres, concerts, visits, balls, cards,
journals, romances, are nothing else than expedients for maintaining
the spiritual life of man outside his natural conditions of labor
for others,--just so all the hygienic and medical devices of the
human mind for the preparation of food, drink, lodging, ventilation,