slighted. I was grateful for every such mark of esteem; even for the
telegram from an unknown friend in a distant land, for which I cheerfully
paid the considerable charge which the sender doubtless knew it would
give me pleasure to disburse for such an expression of friendly feeling.

I will not detain the reader any longer from the essay I have promised.

This is the paper read to The Teacups.

It is in A Song of Moses that we find the words, made very familiar to us
by the Episcopal Burial Service, which place the natural limit on life at
threescore years and ten, with an extra ten years for some of a stronger
constitution than the average. Yet we are told that Moses himself lived
to be a hundred and twenty years old, and that his eye was not dim nor
his natural strength abated. This is hard to accept literally, but we
need not doubt that he was very old, and in remarkably good condition for
a man of his age. Among his followers was a stout old captain, Caleb,
the son of Jephunneh. This ancient warrior speaks of himself in these
brave terms: "Lo, I am this day fourscore and five years old. As yet, I
am as strong this day as I was in the day that Moses sent me; as my
strength was then, even so is my strength now, for war, both to go out
and to come in." It is not likely that anybody believed his brag about
his being as good a man for active service at eighty-five as he was at
forty, when Moses sent him out to spy the land of Canaan. But he was, no
doubt, lusty and vigorous for his years, and ready to smite the
Canaanites hip and thigh, and drive them out, and take possession of
their land, as he did forthwith, when Moses gave him leave.

Grand old men there were, three thousand years ago! But not all
octogenarians were like Caleb, the son of Jephunneh. Listen to poor old