cannot be done honestly. For a hundred men whose appetite for work
can be driven on by vanity, avarice, ambition, or a mistaken notion
of advancing their families, there is about one who is desirous of
expanding his own nature and the nature of others in all directions,
of cultivating many pursuits, of bringing himself and those around
him in contact with the universe in many points, of being a man and
not a machine.

It may seem as if the preceding arguments were directed rather
against excessive work than in favour of recreation. But the first
object in an essay of this kind should be to bring down the absurd
estimate that is often formed of mere work. What ritual is to the
formalist, or contemplation to the devotee, business is to the man
of the world. He thinks he cannot be doing wrong as long as he is
doing that.

No doubt hard work is a great police agent. If everybody were
worked from morning till night and then carefully locked up, the
register of crimes might be greatly diminished. But what would
become of human nature? Where would be the room for growth in such
a system of things? It is through sorrow and mirth, plenty and
need, a variety of passions, circumstances, and temptations, even
through sin and misery, that men's natures are developed.


Again, there are people who would say, "Labour is not all; we do not
object to the cessation of labour--a mere provision for bodily ends;
but we fear the lightness and vanity of what you call recreation."
Do these people take heed of the swiftness of thought--of the
impatience of thought? What will the great mass of men be thinking