non-commercial game of cards), when I heard a voice, one of a group
outside, belonging to a wholesome, smooth-faced young fellow, with good
tastes and instincts, say:--

"'I don't know what happened to the old boy when he took that unheard-of
vacation of his last fall, or where he went, but one thing's very sure,
since his return Cortright's grown _pudgy_ and he's waked bang up. Wonder
if he's finished that Colonial History, that's to be his monument, he's
been working on all his life, or if he's fallen in love?'

"'If he'd fall in love, he might stand more chance of finishing his
history,' replied a graybeard friend in deep didactic tones; 'he has
material in plenty, but no vital stimulus for focussing his work.'

"I gave an unpremeditated laugh that dwindled to a chuckle, as if it were
produced by a choking process. Two heads appeared a second at the doorway
of the room they had thought empty, and then vanished!

"When I came home I sat a long while before my den fireplace thinking.
They were right in two things, though not in the falling in love--that
was done thirty-five years ago once and for all. I wondered if I had
grown _pudgy_, dreadful word; _stout_ carries a certain dignity, but
pudgy suggests bunchy, wabbling flesh. I've noticed my gloves go on
lingeringly, clinging at the joints, but I read that to mean rheumatism!

"That night I stood before the mirror and studied my face as I unbuttoned
my vest and loosened my shirt band at the neck. Suddenly I experienced
great relief. For several months past I have felt a strange asphyxiation
and a vertigo sensation when wearing formal clothes of any kind, enjoying
complete comfort only in the loose neckcloth and wrapper of my private