The Problem to be Solved 3 



after year I dreamed of the day when my bank 

 account should be large enough to allow me at 

 least a few months for that out-door work and 

 sport I love so well ; yet the day of rest seemed 

 to grow more distant rather than nearer. 

 Gradually this idea took possession of me: 

 Why is it not possible for a healthy man, yet 

 strong and in the enjoyment of youth, to make 

 bread and butter for his little ones and himself 

 without chaining himself down to a life of 

 drudgery, without passing most of his time 

 away from those he loves, without devoting 

 his life to work which is drudgery, which is 

 hard, which tells upon a man's vitality day 

 by day? What am I good for? At what 

 work which does not require a daily routine 

 in a city office can I make enough money 

 for our simple life? By degrees these ques- 

 tions began to assume a personal importance. 

 Was it possible that I, with my horror of the 

 city, its bustling monotony, its petty con- 

 cern for inanities, could find work which would 

 offer me freedom and bread and butter? I 

 wanted no work which would keep me in- 

 doors from the beginning of April to the end 



