We, all of us, like to use things; indulgence is enjoyable, but it generally ends with the day. Few of us “take thought of the morrow.” Neglecting, as we do, the _instruments_ of use, their availability for permanent subservience to our wants steadily diminishes, becoming finally lost. Is it that we do not know any better, or is it that we are really so intoxicated with the Present that we simply ignore the well-known claims of the Permanent? Whatever the explanation may be, it is nevertheless passing strange that little or no care is bestowed on either our external or internal servitors, instruments, or organs, which otherwise are ever ready to keep us well filled with the pure wine of joy. Perhaps it is that many of us find Nature so lavish in supplying us with the means of joy that we are naturally equally lavish in wasting them. True economy--that is, the conserving of means for their effective use--is yet to be learned by man. Especially is this the case with our interior means, our flesh, blood, nerves, vital force, etc. Nature seems so ready to recoup and renew the organic loss incurred by our use or indulgence--recuperation seems so easy--that we simply grow careless, reckless, prodigal, and before we are fairly aware of it the disintegrative process gains an ascendency over the restorative, and thenceforward our time will be spent in endeavoring to cure what might have been kept whole or well. Nor is it an organ of the body here and there that we neglect or abuse; it is more especially the entire system of organs called “the body.” The body is the organ of man’s spirit. We give no heed to its tones; perhaps we have never caught its rhythm; certain it is that when but a short time in our perverted hands its chords are more or less jangled, and a minor part is played in the grand symphony of life. The organ of man’s spirit! How rational, nay, how necessary, it would seem to be to keep that instrument keyed to its perfect work!