No doubt the price of a vacation, particularly for saints, is perpetual vigilance. The force of habit is very great, and those who most need rest from their daily mission will require constant watchfulness lest they relapse into good works. The taste for serving on committees, in particular, is like the taste for blood, it is almost impossible to overcome it; the utmost that can be secured is temporary removal from danger. The patient may break from the keepers at any time, and be found ascending some stairway in search of some “Central office,” or other headquarters of dangerous philanthropy. After all, there is probably no complete vacation for overworked saints except an ocean voyage. True, they may be sea-sick, but even that may have its mission. For the real object of the whole enterprise is to induce our saint to be a little selfish ; and if even the pangs of sea-sickness fail to bring about that result, nothing else ever will, and the case is incurable.