olations afforded by literature to statesmen
wearied with the toils of public life. Though the door of office may
be closed, that of literature stands always open, and men who are at
daggers-drawn in politics, join hands over the poetry of Homer and
Horace. The late Earl of Derby, on retiring from power, produced his
noble version of 'The Iliad,' which will probably continue to be read
when his speeches have been forgotten. Mr. Gladstone similarly occupied
his leisure in preparing for the press his 'Studies on Homer,' [1324] and
in editing a translation of 'Farini's Roman State;' while Mr. Disraeli
signalised his retirement from office by the production of his
'Lothair.' Among statesmen who have figured as novelists, besides Mr.
Disraeli, are Lord Russell, who has also contributed largely to history
and biography; the Marquis of Normandy, and the veteran novelist,
Lord Lytton, with whom, indeed, politics may be said to have been his
recreation, and literature the chief employment of his life.

To conclude: a fair measure of work is good for mind as well as body.
Man is an intelligence sustained and preserved by bodily organs, and
their active exercise is necessary to the enjoyment of health. It is
not work, but overwork, that is hurtful; and it is not hard work that is
injurious so much as monotonous work, fagging work, hopeless work. All
hopeful work is healthful; and to be usefully and hopefully employed is
one of the great secrets of happiness. Brain-work, in moderation, is
no more wearing than any other kind of work. Duly regulated, it is as
promotive of health as bodily exercise; and, where due attention is paid
to the physical system, it seems difficult to put more upon a man than
he can bear. Merely to eat and drink and sleep one's way idly through
life is vastly more injurious. The wear-and-tear of rust is even faster
than the tear-and-wear of work.

But overwork is always bad economy. It is, in fact, great waste,
especially if conjoined with worry. Indeed, worry kills far more than
work does. It frets, it excites, it consumes the body--as sand and grit,
which occasion excessive friction, wear out the wheels of a machine.
Overwork and worry have both to be guarded against. For over-brain-work
is strain-work; and it is exhausting and destructive according as it is
in excess of nature. And the brain-worker may exhaust and overbalance
his mind by excess, just as the athlete may overstrain his muscles and
break his