leaning back in his chair, with the tips of his fingers stuck into his waistcoat pockets. He had been observing the Provst narrowly while he spoke. He now crossed his arms, and with his head slightly on one side said, with an ironical little smile—
"What you say there, Provst, reminds me of a man who declines to use his left arm to work with, because the right has been designed by nature to do it—or has been used more—and is, therefore, stronger—he ties up his left arm so that it may not get in his way—till it dwindles away, and at last becomes quite useless. Such a proceeding—am I not right—would be looked upon as highly peculiar—not to say indefensible. Why, therefore, should the state not use both its right and its left side, even if the former—either because of natural or other causes—is, at present, the most developed? Would it not be reasonable if, in public life, we acted like a sensible man, who when he has a heavy burden to carry for a long distance moves it during the walk from one hand to the other. By so doing, you ensure yourself against exhaustion, and procure a uniform development of every part of the organism."
"Oh, I am sure there is no reason to fear any paralysis of the left side of the state," remarked Tönnesen. "It appears to me, on the contrary, that there is a good deal of left-handedness in our public life just now."
