power. "As contradistinguished from the hothouse care of sanitaria, we are realizing more and more that the sufferer must be encouraged to get back into real life, which is the best of all teachers and doctors. Nothing less fruitful will nourish body and soul."

"Real life" he defines as more satisfying and interesting occupation, more recreation or refreshment through art, play, or natural beauty, deeper and more intensive affection; and if a fourth resource, worship, gets into life, so much the better, though it has become today so unfashionable a habit that one must be prepared to shock the modern ear and to violate all the scientific proprieties if one confesses to a belief in it. The interplay of these four inexorable blessings — responsibility, recreation, affection, and through them a glimpse of God is the end of life, and the sole worthy end in my creed, says he; and continues:

'I came to the belief first from a doctor's point of view and as a result of a search for the essential principles of healing within a special field. This is the end of all education, all moral training, the food of the soul in health or in disease, needed by all, to feed our own souls as well as to cure and to prevent social ills. This is the vital nourishment without which all material relief soon becomes a farce or a poison, just as medicine in most chronic diseases is a farce or a poison. Every human being, man,

woman, and child, hèro and convict, neurasthenic and deep-sea fisherman, needs the blessing of God through these four gifts. It is not often, I believe, that a whole life is possessed by any one of the elements of play, work, or drudgery. Work usually makes up the larger part of life, with play and drudgery sprinkled in. I have rarely seen drudgery so overwhelming as to crush out altogether the play of humor and good-fellowship during the day's toil as well as after it.'

So this book has particularly to do with refreshment through the play that is sprinkled in," through the contact with art since the building of a bamboo fly-rod and the skilled use thereof both are arts and with the beauty of nature and its incentive to truest worship of God; and all of this naturally enough is of interest to the medical-man from the viewpoints both of outdoor recreation and of indoor handicraft.

In some way, and at stated intervals, all of us should divert from our routine work, and do something spontaneously -whole-heartedly, with the zest and abandonment of the boy we used to be, and still should be on occasion. For

"He that works, then runs away,

Will live to work another day."

Very few of us indeed are so placed as never to find it possible either to "break out" or to "break

away"; none incessantly so situated as was that unknown ancient and most unfortunate author of this pathetic pair of couplets:

See I a dog? there 's ne'er a stone to throw!
Or stone? there 's ne'er a dog to hit I trow!
Or if at once both stone and dog I view -

It is the king's dog! Damn! What can I do?

Says Dr. A. T. Bristow in The World's Work magazine, "The man who wishes to secure the best results from the days which he spends in search of rest and renewed vigor, will not seek the artificial life of our great hotels with all the attendant excitement, false standards of living, and a table which is an invitation to gluttony. So we in our struggle with the gigantic forces which make up modern civilization must return to nature for refreshment and renewed strength. The forest, the mountains, and the streams hide the elixir of life. We need to get away from the crowds, from idle gossip, from the trivial observances of society, the fetters of custom. There is no rest like that which is hid for the weary within the shady recesses of the great woods, and camp life is far preferable to that counterfeit of camp life, a hotel in the mountains. You can sleep as soundly in a bark camp on a thick bed of balsam as on the softest mattress in a hotel bedroom. A tramp through the woods is what you need for mind and body. The fatigue will bring to your tired eyes sleep far more refreshing than the stuporous slumber

you have experienced in a hotel, superinduced by late hours and the plethora of over-eating without sufficient exercise.

"Remember that there is no better exercise for anyone than walking. It gives the rambler time to learn needed lessons from nature, and it is free from the excitement of high speed, which is the very thing that a vacation should avoid. The man who hurls himself through space in a high-powered automobile is not resting. He simply is substituting one form of mental stimulation for another. He is like those unfortunate victims of the drug habit who go from morphine to cocaine and from both to whisky. Their diseased nerves crave some sort of artificial stimulus. So it often is with our business-men in their relaxations.'

"What these men need is the repose of the woods, the calmness of spirit that comes to the tired mind only amidst mountain solitudes. To invite a man of active mind to a ramble through the forest without an incentive is, however, almost as bad as to advise him to saw wood for exercise. Such an occupation affords exercise, but it is a nauseous dose which is too often taken submissively if not with. cheerfulness. There is no better motive for the forest wanderer, whether his paths be by mountain stream or highland tarn, than the time-honored sport of good old Izaak Walton. Go a-fishing.

"The angler's art is but a pretext or rather the