herself, but she bestowed upon us that which a
hired cook might have given.

You remember what Emerson says: "I pray you, O excellent wife, cumber
not yourself and me to get a curiously rich dinner for this man and
woman who have just alighted at our gate. These things, if they desire
them, they can get for a few shillings at any village inn; but rather
let that stranger see, if he will, in your looks, accents and
behavior, your heart and earnestness, your thought and will, that
which he cannot buy at any price in any city, and which he may travel
miles and dine sparely and sleep hardly to behold."

It would indeed be worth your while to study food scientifically, to
know how to prepare dainty and tempting dishes wholesomely, and then
to serve your guests with such beauty of manner, such graciousness of
courtesy, that they will remember the meal they have taken with you as
idyllic in its simplicity, beauty and helpfulness.

CHAPTER IV.

SLEEP.

Shakespeare writes of "Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of
care." The metaphor is striking, but not accurate. To knit up that
which is ravelled implies using the old material in repairing the
damage, but that is not the way in which the body is rebuilt. The old
material is thrown out and new material put in its place, and that
largely takes place during sleep. We have read of brownies who came at
night and swept and churned and baked while the housewife slept. So,
in our bodily dwelling, the vital forces are our brownies, and they
can work more uninterruptedly while we are asleep than when we are
calling on them to move us from place to place, or to aid us in
various activities.

Much of life's processes must remain a mystery to us, but certain
things we have learned, and one is that perfect health cannot be
maintained, strong nerves cannot be constructed, nor a clear brain be
built without plenty of sleep. The baby sleeps almost continually
because he is building so much new structure. The growing child needs
more sleep than the adult; but even after reaching maturity sleep
cannot be materially lessened without injury to the whole
organization.

We appreciate the need of food. We are often very needlessly alarmed
for fear that we shall starve from one meal to the next, but few of us
realize that food cannot be assimilated, built into tissue, without
some hours in which the vital forces can devote themselves wholly to
the work of assimilation. During the