can hardly have in excess. I would make the broadest and most emphatic distinction between pleasure derived from these amusements, and enjoyment drawn from other sources. I mean, by this distinction, getting our own natures at work in simple and pleasurable ways instead of looking for external excitement. I may seem to have reached a very prosaic conclusion, but I claim that motion in the open air, under clear skies, and in close contact with nature, is the finest and keenest recreation possible to a healthy-minded, fullblooded man. When it is not so regarded, it is because neither mind nor body are in normal condition. The distinguishing mark of those who are devoted to the amusements, as contrasted with those who delight in openair recreation, is listlessness, a very common thing as we note the gait, air, and voice of many young men. The grandest figure of a man seen in Great Britain for a hundred years was Christopher North. In the chapter on Health we described him as running among the Highlands for hours, exulting in what De Quincey calls "the glory of motion." Wilson knew what pleasure was in other forms, but he knew nothing higher than this, a glorious manhood intoxicated with the wine of overflowing life. When Dr. Wayland was asked what pleasures he would recommend, he said, "Take a walk." It was not very prosy advice, nor will it seem such to one who has not sunk into a prosy state of mind and body. Thoreau considered a walk the height of felicity. My point is, if you would get into close contact with nature and cultivate the intimacies and sympathies which look in that direction, you would win an enjoyment far finer than that to be got from the technical amusements, with their feverish accessories. 'Climb the hills about you,- West Rock, Holyoke, Wachusett, Greylock, the Palisades. What do you know of the ravines and waterfalls within a ten-mile radius? Do you know the haunts and habits of the animals in the forests? Do you know the trees, the flowers, and their times? Do you know the exultation that comes with standing on mountain tops, and the tender awe that dwells in thick woods and deep glens, and the music of waters in these still heights? And do you know how profound and sweet is sleep after a day in the woods? An hour or a day, spent in the open air, in saddle, or better on foot, with cheery company or alone with an easy, care-discarding mind, yields recreation that is satisfying just in the degree in which the nature is sound. If any say this is well, but not enough, or, it is not practicable, let me suggest that they find a hobby. There is a provision for one in almost every man; seek it out, and gratify it wisely. If a horse, let it be that, - steering wide of all jockeying and the vulgarity of the race-course; if animal pets, nothing is more wholesome. And there are the athletic sports and the broader field of the arts, fine and mechanical, the turninglathe, the garden, music, pictures, books, science, the keen and unanxious joy of the amateur awaits you in each. Every young man, remembering Shakespeare's wise words, "Home-bred youths have ever homely wits," should now and then travel. You say traveling is expensive; but reckon what possibly you may have spent the last year in cigars, beer, balls, theatricals, confectionery, and dress beyond your need, and see how far the sum would have taken you, to Washington, or Niagara, or Quebec, or London perchance. As our last and weightiest word on the subject, I would press the distinction between amusement and enjoyment. One is pleasure manufactured and served up for us; the other is the satisfaction that flows from the sportive action of our own faculties. In other words, amuse yourself instead of depending upon others. Learn the joy of the exercise of your own powers rather than offer yourself to be played upon from without for the sake of a new sensation. From within out is the order of all life, from smallest plant to man. And because it is the order of life, it is also the order of joy. |