I am afraid I have somewhat belied half the dear old lady's prophecy.
Heaven help me! I have done a good many things that I ought not to
have done, in spite of my laziness. But I have fully confirmed the
accuracy of her judgment so far as neglecting much that I ought not to
have neglected is concerned. Idling always has been my strong point.
I take no credit to myself in the matter--it is a gift. Few possess
it. There are plenty of lazy people and plenty of slow-coaches, but a
genuine idler is a rarity. He is not a man who slouches about with
his hands in his pockets. On the contrary, his most startling
characteristic is that he is always intensely busy.

It is impossible to enjoy idling thoroughly unless one has plenty of
work to do. There is no fun in doing nothing when you have nothing to
do. Wasting time is merely an occupation then, and a most exhausting
one. Idleness, like kisses, to be sweet must be stolen.

Many years ago, when I was a young man, I was taken very ill--I never
could see myself that much was the matter with me, except that I had a
beastly cold. But I suppose it was something very serious, for the
doctor said that I ought to have come to him a month before, and that
if it (whatever it was) had gone on for another week he would not have
answered for the consequences. It is an extraordinary thing, but I
never knew a doctor called into any case yet but what it transpired
that another day's delay would have rendered cure hopeless. Our
medical guide, philosopher, and friend is like the hero in a
melodrama--he always comes upon the scene just, and only just, in the
nick of time. It is Providence, that is what it is.

Well, as I was saying, I was very ill and was ordered to Buxton for a