tions a wheel-treader every now and then steps down and out with the unfeigned symptoms of complete exhaustion. "I tried it, for the fun of it," says Sir Samuel Baker, "but was unable to persist for more than ten minutes, though I am pretty sure that in my Ceylonese mountain camp the excitement of a boar-chase often enabled me to exert the tenfold amount of muscular effort without any conscious trace of fatigue."
Every well-arranged household, in fact, should have an indoor sanitarium in the form of a general repair-shop, or Jack-of-all-trades resort. From an artistic point of view the products of the establishment may prove shameful failures, but they will save doctor's bills and perhaps police-court fines.
"In freeing themselves from the bonds of an unworthy attachment," says Madame de Sévigné, "men have one great advantage: they can plunge into business, and forget;"—and a rush into a convenient workshop will often solve the problem of fighting down minor temptations that cannot be exorcised by study.
Combined with wholesome food and steady habits, indoor work has more than once enabled city-dwellers to emulate the physical prowess of
