I believe I am truly cosmopolitan.

I have the deepest sympathy with them.

I lie in a shady place like this and think of adventurous spirits going to the North Pole or penetrating to the heart of the Torrid Zone with admiration.

Mercenary creatures ask, 'What is the use of a man's going to the North Pole?
What good does it do ?' I can't say; but, for anything I CAN say, he may go for the purpose--though he don't know it--of employing my thoughts as I lie here.

Take an extreme case.