There is, in the first place, the joy of self-love. We all experience joy when we have accomplished something; when we have succeeded in a difficult work, and the more difficult it was, the prouder we are of it. Besides, the exercise which accompanies activity is in itself a great good. The unfolding of strength, physical or moral, is the source of the truest pleasures. Activity is life itself: to live, is to act. Work, again, gives us the pleasure which accompanies any kind of struggle: in working we struggle against the forces of nature, we subdue them, discipline them, we teach them to obey us. Unquestionably the first efforts are painful: but when once the first difficulties are overcome, work is so little a fatigue that it becomes a pleasant necessity. One is even obliged to make an effort to take rest. Yes, after having in childhood had trouble to get accustomed to work, what in the long run becomes the most difficult, is not to work. One is almost obliged to fight against himself, to force himself to recreation and rest. Leisure in its turn becomes a duty to which we almost submit against our will, and only because reason bids us to submit to it; for we know that we must not abuse the strength Providence has entrusted to us. It is not necessary to dwell long on this point to fix in our memory that work alone insures security and comfort. Certainly it does not always secure them; this is unfortunately too true; but if we are not quite sure that by working we can provide for wife and children, and secure a legitimate rest for our old age, we may, on the other hand, be quite sure that without work we shall bring upon ourselves and our family certain misery. There have not yet been found any means whereby wealth may be struck out of the earth without work. This wealth which dazzles our eyes; these palaces, carriages, splendid dresses, this furniture, luxury, all these riches and others more substantial: machinery, iron-works, land produce, all this is accumulated work. Between the condition of savages that wander about famished in the forests of America, and the condition of our civilized societies, there is no other difference but work. Suppose (a thing impossible) that in a society like this our own, all work should all at once be stopped: distress and hunger would be the immediate and inevitable consequence. Spain, on discovering the gold mines of America, thought herself enriched forever; she ceased work; it was her ruin; for from being Europe's sovereign mistress, as she then was, she fell to the rank we see her occupy to-day. Laziness brings with it misery; misery beggary, and beggary is not always satisfied with asking merely--it steals.