has for its object the enlargement of certain muscles, and the performance of the feats of the "strong men." All this is unnatural. The perfect system of physical culture is that one which tends to produce a uniform development of the entire body—the employment of all the muscles—the nourishment of every part, and which adds as much interest as possible to the exercise, and which keeps its pupils out in the open air.
The Yogis, in their everyday life, do their own work, and get much exercise in this way. They also take long walks through the woods (if they are near woods, and they usually are, for they prefer mountainous country and keep away from the plains and large cities so far as is possible), and over the hills. But they also have a number of forms of mild exercise with which they vary their hours of study and meditation. There is nothing especially novel or new about their exercise, and they bear a very close resemblance to the calisthentic exercises and Delsarte movements in favour in the West. The principal and important point of difference, however, lies in the fact that they use the mind in connection with the bodily movements. Just as the interest in the work, and the game, brings the mind into play, so does the Yogi allow his exercise to call into operation his mind. He takes an interest in the exercises, and by an effort of the will sends an increased flow of prana to the part brought into motion. He thus obtains a multiplied benefit, and a few minutes' exercise do him as much good as would ten times that amount of exercise, if performed in the usual indifferent, uninterested way.
