New-York tribune., 1881-09-11

we draw with malarious influences. Lung

we draw with malarious influences. Lungs
accustomed to the pure air of the sea or noun
| tains reject the unwholesome dose at first
with nausea of which we were not conscious
when we were used to it. Besides, we presume
on our new-found health eat all the luxuries of
the market from which we have probably
been shut out, the vegetables and fruits often
being stale; we fling the windows wide open
| at night, forgetting that it is not the salt sea
air that is to come in but the dank effiuvia of
countless drains. Is it any wonder that
headaches, indigestion and slow fevers
brskly welcome us home again? A
moments common sense would show any
man that so thorough and radical a change
as that from any pure air. to the atmosphere
of New York or Philadelphia just now cannot
be made without great precaution in diet and
all minor details. Unless imperatively neces-
sary, it should not he made at ALL Men must,
of course return to their work or business at
fixed dates, but there should be no reason
why children should come back to precisely
the same mwholesome conditions of life in
September which they were hurried away i'm
frantic haste to avoid in June. If it is right
TO remove them into pure air for the summer,
do not let their return be based on dates but
on the state of the climate. Even if school is
open and demands the youngsters, give school
the gO-by. Better a child should lose a week
or two of examining than risk the good effect
OF the whole summers vacation on his bodily
health
Perhaps the only way of accounting for the
lethargy and sluggishness with which we creep
back to our routine of work when in soundest
health and refreshed by long recreation in the
country, is that it is only when we are at
home with Nature that we dimly begin to see
how money-making and hard work are not at
all the normal condition of man, but curse
laid on him. After all, idleness hath its
uses and vagabondage its gains. One can
doze on the yellow beach into knowledge
which no book can yield, and in the slow laps
ing courses of a summers day can bring away
loot from river and forest such as no money
could buy.
There must be reason for the unwilling
halt before pull ourselves toget her again
and set about regular work. 1t is not all sloth.
nor yet is it dulness; indeed many men will
work harder in days fishing and show more
cleverness of both brain and hands than years
labor would bring ont of them. When such q
man puts up his rod and line until next sum-
mer it is with the feeling that in that one
month he lives, but in the other eleven he
does his duty. There must be a reason for such
a conviction in any industrious, conscientious
man and the reason is that he has faculties and
forces, undeveloped by his ordinary work, which
struggle to the light in the brief intervals of rest
Ii was not without reason that the men i'm
SYRIA fOdr thousand years ago. who had mes
sage to deliver to the world, went out to the
mountains and widcrnesses to fit themselves
to understand it. The object of a mans exist
ence, nowadays, is popularity supposed to be
to fit into some part of the great CONNER
cial machinery of life: lawyer, grocer, shop-boy.
is there no machinery of life higher than this
man asks such questions as these. left
alone with himself in the solitude of woods
and waters: but the force within which COM
pels an answer there is soon ieered or
deafened into silence in the street
Another point. Our annual holiday prolonrs
itself each year. beginning earlier and lasting
later. More people feel the need of it, and the
need is acknowledged TO be one not only of the
body but the mind. If it be a need at all. why
should not the season of holiday be extended
at intervals throughout the year, not lumped in
the hot, dry middle, when the relaxation of
country life is less than in either spring or
fall man who runs down to the coast with
his family for week in April, or takes them
to Niagara in its awful grandeur of lev robes.
or snatchcs a fortnight's hunting in November.
viii not go to his shorter midsummer rest
worn out in soul and body.