solve. The Arabian Nights were silent on the subject. Aladdin's uncle,
apparently, had both his legs. He was too brisk in villainy to admit a
wooden leg. But then, he was only an uncle. If his history ran out to the
end, doubtless he would go with a limp in his riper days. The story of the
Bible--although it trafficked in such veterans as Methuselah--gave not a
hint. Abraham died full of years. Here would have been a proper test--but
the book was silent.

My grandfather in those days had much leisure time. He still kept an office
at the rear of the house, although he had given up the regular practice
of the law. But a few old clients lingered on, chiefly women who carried
children in their arms and old men without neckties who came to him for
free advice. These he guided patiently in their troubles, and he would sit
an hour to listen to a piteous story. In an extremity he gave them money,
or took a well-meant but worthless note. Often his callers overran the
dinner hour and my mother would have to jingle the dinner bell at the door
to rouse them. Occasionally he would be called on for a public speech, and
for several days he would be busy at his desk. Frequently he presided at
dinners and would tell a story and sing a song, for he had a fine bass
voice and was famous for his singing.

He read much in those last years in science. When he was not reading
Trowbridge to his grandchildren, it was Huxley to himself. But when his
eyes grew tired, he would on an occasion--if there was canning in the
house--go into the kitchen where my mother and grandmother worked, and help
pare the fruit. Seriously, as though he were engaged upon a game, he would
cut the skin into thinnest strips, unbroken to the end, and would hold up
the coil for us to see. Or if he broke it in the cutting it was a point
against him in the contest.