Chapter XII.
SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE TANK—JACK'S WISDOM AND PETERKIN'S IMPERTINENCE—WONDERFUL BEHAVIOR OF A CRAB—GOOD WISHES FOR THOSE WHO DWELL FAR FROM THE SEA—JACK COMMENCES TO BUILD A LITTLE BOAT.
Rest is sweet as well for the body as for the mind. During my long experience, amid the Vicissitudes of a checkered life, I have found that periods of profound rest at certain intervals, in addition to the ordinary hours of repose, are necessary to the well-being of man. And the nature as well as the period of this rest varies, according to the different temperaments of individuals, and the peculiar circumstances in which they may chance to be placed. To those who work with their minds, bodily labor is rest. To those who labor with the body, deep sleep is rest. To the downcast, the weary, and the sorrowful, joy and peace are rest. Nay, further, I think that to the gay, the frivolous, the reckless, when sated with pleasures that cannot last, even sorrow proves to be rest of a kind, although, perchance, it were better that I should cal it relief than rest. There is, indeed, but one class of men to whom rest is denied. There is no rest to the wicked. At this I do but hint, however, as I treat not of that rest which is spiritual, but more particularly, of that which applies to the mind and to the body.
Of this rest we stood much in need on our return home, and we found it exceedingly sweet, when we indulged in
8
