One day, as Schweitzer was dragging great balks of wood in the fierce heat and humidity of Lambarene to the building site where he was constructing his hospital, he saw a well-dressed African sitting in the shade of a tree.

“I suppose you couldn’t lend me a hand?”, he asked.

“I’m afraid not,” said the African; “you see, I’m an intellectual.”

“Ah,” said Schweitzer – “I always wanted to be one of those, but I never quite made it.” And went on lugging the wood.