had the gout.

The folks who come my way, indeed, seem to remember their physical
ailments very distinctly, to judge by the way they talk of them;
and are exceedingly apprehensive of their recurrence. Nay, it is
curious to see how some old men will resent the compliments of
their juniors on their state of health or appearance. 'Stuff and
nonsense!' cried old Sam Rogers, grimly; 'I tell you there is no
such thing as a fine old man.' In a humbler walk of life I remember
to have heard a similar but more touching reply. It was upon the
great centenarian question raised by Mr. Thorns. An old woman in a
workhouse, said to be a hundred years of age, was sent for by the
Board of Guardians, to decide the point by her personal testimony.
One can imagine the half-dozen portly prosperous figures, and the
contrast their appearance offered to that of the bent and withered
crone. 'Now, Betty,' said the chairman with unctuous patronage,
'you look hale and hearty enough, yet they tell me that you are a
hundred years old; is this really true?' 'God Almighty knows, sir,'
was her reply, 'but I feel a thousand.'

And there are so many people nowadays who 'feel a thousand.'

It is for this reason that the gift of old age is unwished for, and
the prospect of future life without encouragement. It is the modern
conviction that there will be some kind of work in it; and even
though what we shall be set to do may be 'wrought with tumult of
acclaim,' we have had enough of work. What follows, almost as a
matter of course, is that the thought of possible extinction has
lost its terrors. Heaven and its glories may have still their
charms for those who are not wearied out with toil in this life;