It is objected that one should be guided by his instincts and should not go to bed until he desires to. It is claimed that when we ignore our instincts we must pay the associated penalties. This objection is offered by those who advocate exercising even when one is disinclined to; and who advocate drinking so many glasses of water a day and ignoring one's instinct of thirst. It is advocated by those who advocate mixing a little intelligence with one's eating, by those who would put the same patient on a fast without waiting for instinct to demand a fast and who insist that the demands of appetite that persist during the first two to four days of a fast be ignored; who give cold baths when there is a dread of these; who seek means of forcing sleep when nature does not give sleep voluntarily. The inconsistency of such advice and such practices must be readily apparent.

To demand instinctive living on the one hand and reject it on the other is simply ridiculous. The argument that one should be guided by his instinct would be good if those instincts were normal. But if they are not normal, knowledge and intelligence may rightly be called upon to help them out. People who keep their bodies lashed with stimulation do not know when they feel like going to bed. Withdraw their stimulants and notice the "let-down," the languor and lassitude that reveal the true condition of their system and their need for recuperation.

It is nest objected that the ordinary daily activities "materially stimulate the functions of the body." When one goes to bed he is deprived of this mechanical stimulation. Metabolism is less active. Elimination is retarded. The circulation is slowed down. It is insisted that poisons are driven out of the body more rapidly if one is active.

If these objections possess any validity the proper way to treat a sick man is to make him run at top speed until he is well. If this mechanical stimulation is not an exhausting thing, then the longer he runs the stronger he should become. If the activity purifies the blood, by stimulating elimination, then the more active one is and the longer he is active the purer his blood should become. Instead of a marathon runner dropping within sight of his goal because of the fatigue poisons that accumulate in his body, he should be fresher at the end of the race than at its beginning. We can recognize the basis of fact that exists in the above superficial objections to rest without endorsing the extremes to which the objections themselves would logically lead.

The success of the work of the vital force is inversely to the degree of its activity. Men go to bed at night tired and worn out from a day of active toil. A night of rest recuperates and restores them. The "rest-cure" is only a prolongation of this same normal period in bed in order that the patient may recuperate from a more profound enervation and be restored from a more injured state of his or her tissues.

It is objected, also, that if a healthy man, a strong man, is confined to bed for a few days he will lose part of his strength and if he remains there for several weeks he will be unable to walk. All of this objection arises out of the fallacy that "strength comes as the result of exercising the muscles," It mistakes the muscular machine that is built up when exercise is indulged in, for the power back of the machine. Large, well-trained muscles are better able to manifest power, providing there is power to be manifest, but in doing so they expend the power. Exercise does not give us power--it expends power. It consumes energy, tears down tissue and, if continued long enough, produces exhaustion. If exercise were the source of strength, then the more we exercise the stronger should we become. It should recuperate us and not exhaust us. But the reverse is true; exercise exhausts and we must go to bed for recuperation.

The farmer who turns his well-fed horses out on the pasture after the crops are laid-by, knows well that the rest and grass diet will weaken (soften) his horses and that when he again puts them to work they will not be able to do as much work as before going to the pasture. Their formerly hard muscles will have become soft and flabby. Their tough shoulders will have become tender. But the farmer knows, also, that after a few days of work, his horses are stronger and can do more work than before he sent them out to rest. They are all the better for the rest. He also knows that he cannot work them indefinitely. He would soon kill his horses.

I know a strong man, a weight lifter, who is a careful liver. He spent the summer of 1921 in a summer cottage on a lake in Ohio. The summer was spent in the water. He stuffed himself with milk. He was over two years getting to the point where he could lift as much weight as before he went to the lake. He took plenty of exercise and little rest. The results speak for themselves. He maintained the condition of his muscles, but depleted his nervous energies.

One writer, who calls the conclusion that going to bed conserves one's energy for the work of "disease" the "silliest conclusion that has ever been promulgated," fully recognizes the value of that form of rest that is secured by fasting and insists that a prolonged rest of this kind improves and does not weaken digestion. The contradiction is apparent.

The strong man confined to bed does grow muscularly weaker. His muscles become soft and flabby. He is unable to lift as much weight or run as fast and as far. But muscular strength is not the thing we use in overcoming the causes of "disease." The kidneys need nervous energy, not muscular strength if they are to increase their functions. Nothing increases elimination like rest--not even exercise. Exercise does increase elimination temporarily, but at the same time it creates more waste to be eliminated, while, in the reaction, elimination is decreased.

It is admitted that if one is "so weak and depleted that he desires to remain in bed" he should do so. This admission is fatal to the above objections. If strength comes from exercise, the weak and depleted should exercise vigorously and often. If going to bed really weakens one, I mean, if it really subtracts from one's fund of vital power, then the weak and depleted would commit suicide by going to bed.

All these objections are further offset by the fact that we do not, except in cases where exercise would aggravate the condition, permit the chronic sufferer to lie in bed without taking some exercise. The human body does not require to be physically active, at work, play or exercise, twelve hours a day in order to maintain structural and functional integrity. Those who attempt to discredit the "rest-cure" should first take the trouble to acquaint themselves with it, for patients get well through rest, and recoveries are more satisfactory than through the methods advocated by physical culturists.

In previous chapters it has been clearly shown that the living organism, in "disease," reduces activity in some of its' organs in order that the power ordinarily expended through these channels may be utilized where its need is more urgent. This is not merely true of acute or primary "disease," but of chronic or secondary "disease" as well. The chronic sufferer is tired, dull, listless, feeble, lacks energy and "pep"; his appetite is frequently lacking. He does not awake refreshed after a night of sleep. Very little physical or mental effort is required to exhaust him. He gives every evidence of the need of rest and when he secures this he begins to improve.