Epictetus described himself as "a spirit bearing about a corpse." That
seems to me an ungrateful description. Surely we ought to cherish the
body, even if it be but a frail and humble companion. Do we not own to the
eye our enjoyment of the beauties of this world and the glories of the
Heavens; to the ear the voices of friends and all the delights of music;
are not the hands most faithful and invaluable instruments, ever ready in
case of need, ever willing to do our bidding; and even the feet bear us
without a murmur along the roughest and stoniest paths of life.

With reasonable care, then, most of us may hope to enjoy good health. And
yet what a marvellous and complex organization we have!

We are indeed fearfully and wonderfully made. It is

"Strange that a harp of a thousand strings,
Should keep in tune so long."

When we consider the marvellous complexity of our bodily organization, it
seems a miracle that we should live at all; much more that the innumerable
organs and processes should continue day after day and year after year
with so much regularity and so little friction that we are sometimes
scarcely conscious of having a body at all.

And yet in that body we have more than 200 bones, of complex and varied
forms, any irregularity in, or injury to, which would of course grievously
interfere with our movements.

We have over 500 muscles; each nourished by almost innumerable blood
vessels, and regulated by nerves. One of our muscles, the heart, beats