IN CONCLUSION
and Kentucky; of Gladstone's that hour daily, no matter how busy he was, and how exacting even a nation's demands, in his walking-shoes; or, better yet, with his American axe; eliminate from the lives of these men this branch of their preparation for their life's work—its foundation, indeed—and say, if you truthfully can, that their life's work would have ever been heard of. To make a man of bone and muscle alone, and of untutored mind, would give little better than a horse or ox. But to make one whose brain-work so dominates that his body is neglected, and eaten up by it, till at length some vital organ will not longer stand the strain, and the end comes to his usefulness, or to his life, or both—is this so much more sensible than the former plan? It lies in every man's hand and power to educate his own body. Strong men do not much need teachers. They will find a way. How much had teachers to do with the lives of almost any of this distinguished galaxy? Well says one writer: "Every person has two educations—one which he receives from others; and one, more important, which he gives himself."
And so can you get that more valuable one, if you will only look for it, to save your own body.
You who hope to be a professional man—perhaps a lawyer—do you need any louder hint than that already quoted from the lips of a leader of our Bar, who has attained all, and more, in the profession, than you, in your fondest dreams, have ever dared to hope for, when he says: "The sound body is at the bottom of it all. The stomach is indeed the key of all professional eminence. If that goes back on you, you might as well throw up the sponge." You, who are aiming to heal the bodies of others—will you long succeed at your divine art if you do not train and sedulously care for your own body?
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