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 THE 
 
 ART OF LIVING LONG 
 AND HAPPILY 
 
 HENRY HARDW1CKE 
 
 of " The Art of Winning Cases, or Modem Advocacy " 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 KBW YORK LONDON 
 
 *T We* Twenty-third Street 24 Bedford Street. Stnnd 
 
 wbe Knickerbocker press 
 1895
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1895 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY HARDWICKE 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London 
 
 ttbe ftnlcfeerbocfeer press, 1Acw iRocbcllc, .
 
 25796 
 
 TO 
 
 MY WIFE
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " Would'st thou fashion for thyself a seemly 
 
 life? 
 
 Then do not fret over what is past and gone, 
 And spite of all thou may'st have lost behind, 
 Live each day as if thy life were just begun. 
 What each day wills, enough for thee to know, 
 What each day wills the day itself will tell. 
 Do thine own task, and be therewith content ; 
 What others do, that shall thou fairly judge. 
 See that thou no brother mortal hate, 
 Then, leave all beside, to the Master Power." 
 
 GOETHE. 
 
 There are many people who believe that 
 the pursuit of happiness, and of health, can- 
 not be reduced to an art ; that man cannot, 
 by exercising his faculties, mitigate his pains 
 and multiply his pleasures. 
 
 To such grave and learned authorities 
 might be opposed counterbalancing authori- 
 ties. From Socrates to our own immortal 
 Franklin, the wisest and best men have be-
 
 preface. 
 
 lieved that men may be directed in the art 
 and instructed in the science of happiness. 
 The men who have entertained this opinion 
 have been the wisest and the best of the 
 human race, and, it may be said, that they 
 were not all surrounded by those happy cir- 
 cumstances which would naturally inspire the 
 same philosophy. They were men who had 
 experienced all the conditions of life. It 
 seems as if nature had studied to prove by 
 great examples that our happiness depends 
 upon our reason more than upon our cir- 
 cumstances. Epictetus lived a slave, in chains, 
 and Marcus Aurelius on a throne. And yet 
 both were supremely happy. 
 
 The illustrious philosophers of Greece 
 have merited the veneration of ages, by in- 
 dicating principles, the practice of which 
 would render men better and more happy. 
 Their glory is not founded on their physics, 
 now known to be full of errors, or their 
 metaphysics, so often puerile, but upon those 
 teachings which conducted their pupils to 
 happiness. 
 
 Socrates chiefly esteemed the science which 
 teaches us how to live as we ought. 
 
 Strange to say, we speak of those sciences 
 which they held in light esteem, with enthu- 
 siasm, while we regard as comparatively un-
 
 preface. 
 
 important those studies which they judged 
 alone worthy of human nature. 
 
 All arts are difficult of acquirement, and 
 this art is not an exception. But teachers 
 do not cease to teach because all their pupils 
 do not become as learned as they could wish. 
 As an excellent writer says : " Suppose it 
 had been said to the ancient philosophers : 
 ' You will never reform the human race ; and 
 instead of profitless dreams about wisdom 
 and happiness you ought to desist from 
 subjects so futile, and consecrate your vigils 
 to sciences more worthy to occupy your 
 thoughts.' Would they not have smiled with 
 pity upon such counsel? Had they deigned 
 to reply, would they not have said : ' We are 
 well aware that we shall not purify the heart 
 of the wicked of its pride, envy, cupidity ; 
 but shall we derive no glory from having 
 confirmed some good men in their career? 
 In the midst of storms we felt our energies 
 invigorated as we perceived that our spirits 
 were in accordance with theirs. However 
 feeble may have been the influence of our 
 writings, affront not humanity by supposing 
 that ours, however partial may have been 
 their circulation, will nowhere find minds 
 worthy to profit by them. Perhaps they will 
 kindle the holy love of virtue in some of
 
 preface. 
 
 those who may read them in the youthful 
 age of unsophisticated and generous resolu- 
 tions. Few, who read, will practise our doc- 
 trine in all its extent. Almost every one 
 will be indebted to it for some solitary prin- 
 ciples. It is possible we may never have 
 numerous disciples. But we shall have some 
 in all countries and in all times. It is a truth 
 that ought to satisfy us, that such discussions 
 are based neither upon exaggeration nor 
 revery. The science of happiness would 
 indeed be chimerical if we expected that 
 it would impart the same charms to all pre- 
 dicaments in which our lot might cast us. 
 Instead of indulging such visionary hopes, if 
 these discussions dissipate the errors which 
 veil the true good from our eyes, if we learn 
 to bring together all the easy and innocent 
 pleasures, and to render the painful moments 
 of life more rapid, we have been taught an 
 art which it is possible to demonstrate and 
 improve to an indefinite extent.' " 
 
 The author has not omitted useful sugges- 
 tions, although they may seem common- 
 place. The didactic form of the work has 
 permitted him to give the facts which he 
 has collected with great condensation and 
 directness.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. HAPPINESS SHOULD BE SYSTEMATI- 
 CALLY PURSUED i 
 
 II. HAPPINESS DERIVED FROM BOOKS 27 
 
 III. CHEERFULNESS .... 38 
 
 IV. THE PLEASURES OF DUTY . . 42 
 
 V. TRANQUILLITY OF MIND . . 47 
 
 VI. COMPETENCE . . . 52 
 
 VII. MEANS OF ACQUIRING AND PRE- 
 SERVING HEALTH 57 
 
 VIII. LIVES OF CENTENARIANS 86
 
 THE ART OF LIVING LONG AND 
 HAPPILY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HAPPINESS SHOULD BE SYSTEMATICALLY 
 PURSUED. 
 
 " I have never spent an unhappy day in my 
 life," said a learned Frenchman, who lived to 
 an advanced age, honored and respected by 
 all who knew him. The experience of this 
 man shows that it is not absolutely impossible 
 to be almost entirely free from sorrow. 
 
 That much rational enjoyment may be ob- 
 tained by the systematic pursuit of happiness, 
 there can be no doubt. It is also true, that 
 many sorrows may be avoided by attending 
 to the precepts of the wise upon the art of 
 living well. And yet, strange to say, there 
 are many people, who believe that all theo- 
 retical discussions of the pursuit of happiness,
 
 2 Systematic pursuit of f>appfness. 
 
 are profitless ; that the world is growing older, 
 but not wiser ; that nothing may be learned 
 from the experience of others ; that men are 
 not more successful in the pursuit of happi- 
 ness now, than they were in the remotest 
 periods of recorded history. They contend 
 that man has always been the sport of acci- 
 dent, the slave of his passions and the creature 
 of circumstances. They insist upon the ineffi- 
 cacy of the lights of reason, philosophy, and 
 religion, judging from the little illumination 
 which they have shed, hitherto, upon the 
 paths of life. 
 
 They might, on the same ground, and on 
 the same reasoning, declaim against every 
 attempt, in any form, to render the world 
 wiser, happier, and better. They might, with 
 equal propriety, say silence the press, close 
 the pulpit, cease from parental discipline, 
 moral suasion, and the training of education. 
 The world will go on as before, do what you 
 will ! The absurdity of such language is ap- 
 parent. Shall we do nothing, because we 
 cannot do everything ? Shall the laws be 
 abolished because they do not entirely pre- 
 vent crime ? As a writer has said : " Because 
 the million float towards the invisible future 
 without any pole star, or guided only by the 
 presumption of general opinion, is it proof
 
 Systematic pursuit of f>appines5. 3 
 
 conclusive that none have been rendered hap- 
 pier in consequence of having followed wiser 
 guidance, and pursued happiness by system ? 
 
 Such is the belief of many people. Others, 
 who are wiser, think that such views are er- 
 roneous ; that much suffering may be avoided, 
 and that everyday we meet with visible proofs 
 that men may learn how to be happy ; that 
 we are to blame for the greater portion of 
 human suffering, because of our ignorance 
 and mistaken views, and that it is an unneces- 
 sary mixture of bitterness in the cup of human 
 life, arid one writer goes so far as to say : " I 
 firmly believe that the greater number of 
 deaths, instead of being the result of specific 
 diseases, to which they are attributed, are 
 really caused by a series of imperceptible 
 malign influences, springing from corroding 
 cares, griefs, and disappointments. To say 
 that more than half of the human race die of 
 sorrow, and a broken heart, or in some way 
 fall victims to their passions, may seem like 
 advancing a revolting doctrine; but it is, 
 nevertheless, in my mind, a simple truth." 
 
 "We do not see the operations of grief 
 upon some one or all the countless frail and 
 delicate constituents of human life. But if 
 physiology could look through the infinitely 
 complicated web of our structure with the
 
 4 Systematic pursuit of Ibappiness. 
 
 power of the solar microscope, it would be- 
 hold every chagrin searing some nerve, para- 
 lyzing the action of some organ, or closing 
 some capillary ; and that every sigh draws its 
 drop of life blood from the heart. Nature is 
 slow in resenting her injuries ; but the mem- 
 ory of them is indelibly impressed, and treas- 
 ured up for a late, but certain revenge. 
 Nervousness, lowness of spirits, headache, 
 and all the countless train of morbid and 
 deranged corporeal and mental action, 
 are, at once, the cause and the effect of 
 sorrow and anxiety, increased by a constant 
 series of action and reaction. Thought 
 and care become impressed upon the 
 brow. The bland essence of cheerfulness 
 evaporates. The head becomes shorn of its 
 locks ; and the frosts of winter gather on the 
 temple. These concurrent influences silently 
 sap the stamina of life ; until, aided by some 
 adventitious circumstance, which we call cold, 
 fever, epidemic, dyspepsia death lays his 
 hand upon the frame that by the sorrows 
 and cares of life was prepared for his dread 
 office. The bills of mortality assign a name 
 to the mortal disease different from the true 
 one. 
 
 " Cheerfulness and equanimity are about 
 the only traits that have invariably marked
 
 Systematic pursuit of fjappiness. 5 
 
 tJie life of those who Jiave lived to extreme old 
 age. Nothing is more clearly settled by expe- 
 rience tJian that grief acts as a sltnu poison, 
 iiot only in the immediate infliction of pain, 
 but in gradually impairing the powers of life, 
 and in subtracting from the sum of our days" 
 
 If, then, by any process of instruction, dis- 
 cipline, and mental force, we can influence 
 our circumstances, banish grief and create 
 cheerfulness, we can, in the same degree, re- 
 duce rules for the pursuit of happiness to a 
 system, and make that system a matter of 
 science. Can we not do this? The very 
 million who deride the idea of seeking for 
 enjoyment through the medium of instruc- 
 tion, unconsciously exercise the power in 
 question to a certain extent, though not to 
 the extent of which they are capable. All 
 those wise individuals who have travelled 
 with equanimity and cheerfulness through 
 the diversified scenes of life, making the 
 most of its good, and the least of its evils, 
 bear a general testimony to the truth of this 
 act. We find in them a conviction that 
 they had such power, and a force of charac- 
 ter that enabled them to act according to 
 their convictions. 
 
 No matter how many of the pleasures of 
 life we enjoy, or how rich and elevated we
 
 6 Systematic pursuit of Ibappiness. 
 
 may be, a nameless something is always 
 wanting to our imperfect fortune. All de- 
 sire money. But " a wise man will desire no 
 more than he may get justly, use soberly, 
 distribute cheerfully, and leave contentedly." 
 
 Our most common sufferings come from 
 desires which surpass our ability to satisfy 
 them. An ancient writer relates that Oram- 
 azes appeared to Usbeck, the virtuous, and 
 said : " Form a wish and I will grant it." 
 The sage replied : " Source of light, I only 
 wish to limit my desires by those things 
 which nature has rendered indispensable." 
 
 It should not be supposed, however, that 
 a negative happiness, a condition exempt 
 from suffering, is the most fortunate condi- 
 tion to which we may aspire. The advo- 
 cates for this gloomy system have but poorly 
 studied the nature of man. If he is mis- 
 taken in desiring positive enjoyments, if his 
 highest aim. ought to be, to live free from 
 pain, the caves of the forest are best suited 
 to him for a dwelling-place. 
 
 " Bounded by the present, animals sleep, 
 eat, procreate, live without inquietude, and 
 die without regret ; and this is the perfec- 
 tion of negative happiness. Man, it is true, 
 loses himself in vain projects. His long re- 
 membrances, his keen foresight, create him
 
 Systematic pursuit of fjapginess. 7 
 
 suffering in the past and the future. His 
 imagination brings forth errors, his liberty 
 crimes. But the abuse of his faculties does 
 not disprove their excellence. Let him con- 
 secrate to directing them aright that time 
 which he has hitherto lost in mourning over 
 their aberrations, and he will have reason to 
 be grateful to the Creator for having given 
 him the most exalted rank among sublunary 
 beings. If, on the other hand, he chooses 
 to abandon that rank, of which he ought to 
 be proud, he will degrade his immortal na- 
 ture at his own cost ; and will only add to 
 his other evils the shame of wishing to ren- 
 der himself vile." 
 
 The absence of suffering and a negative 
 happiness are not sufficient for man. His 
 noble faculties refuse the repose of indiffer- 
 ence. 
 
 Created to aspire to whatever may be an 
 element of enjoyment, let him cherish de- 
 sires, if they do not lead him beyond the 
 bounds prescribed by Christianity. 
 
 We should beware, however, of aspiring 
 after perfect happiness. The object of the 
 art of happiness is to indicate desirable situ- 
 ations, to guide us towards them when they 
 offer, and to remove the vexations of life. 
 By far the greater part of mankind might
 
 8 Systematic fmreult of Ibappfness. 
 
 exist in comfort. They fail of this in aiming 
 at impracticable amelioration of their con- 
 dition. It is the essence of folly to contem- 
 plate only the dark side of our lives, and it 
 is a mark of strength and wisdom rather to 
 exaggerate our advantages when indulging 
 in self-communion upon the state of our 
 affairs. 
 
 " The habit of looking on the best side of 
 every event is worth more than one thousand 
 pounds a year," says Dr. Johnson, and it is 
 true. A propensity to hope and joy is bet- 
 ter than wealth, but one to fear and sorrow 
 is worse than poverty. 
 
 We should carefully ascertain what things 
 are necessary to our well-being, and dis- 
 cipline all our desires towards their acquisi- 
 tion. 
 
 In enumerating the essentials of happiness, 
 without the spirit of system, the author 
 would mention cheerfulness, independence, 
 health, competence, friendship, and knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 In this country there are few who cannot 
 reasonably hope to acquire them, and if they 
 fail to do so, the want may be often traced 
 to some neglect of their own. Health, of 
 course, is not always within our power, for 
 we may have inherited a constitution vitiated
 
 Systematic pursuit of fjappiness. 9 
 
 and unhealthy, or we may lose it by some 
 accident, or by the influence of causes be- 
 yond our control. But for one person who 
 is afflicted with want of health, at least a 
 hundred are so from causes which they may 
 trace to their own mismanagement. Any 
 physician of reputation will endorse this 
 statement. 
 
 The things indispensable to happiness are 
 far more subject to our command than we 
 sometimes imagine. Undoubtedly happiness 
 pursued upon philosophical principles would 
 free us from half our sorrows here below. 
 
 It is a mistake, too, to suppose that the 
 art of happiness has never been taught. The 
 wise men of Greece investigated the science 
 of happiness as eloquently and profoundly 
 as they studied the other sciences, and they 
 wisely held the latter in estimation only so 
 far as they were subservient to the former. 
 And in all succeeding ages there have been 
 a few men who have regarded all their facul- 
 ties, their advantages of nature and fortune, 
 their studies and acquirements, not as ends 
 in themselves, but as means conducive to 
 the right pursuit of happiness. 
 
 The imaginary ills of life are more trouble- 
 some than those which are real. One of the 
 chief secrets of happiness lies in not suffering
 
 io Systematic pursuit of Ibappfuess. 
 
 trifles to vex us, and in prudently cultivating 
 the small pleasures of life, since great ones 
 are so rare. 
 
 Our Creator, being infinitely good, as well 
 as wise, must have created man to be happy. 
 " Yet the earth resounds with the complaints 
 of the unhappy, although they are encom- 
 passed with the means of enjoyment, of 
 which they appear to know neither the value 
 nor the use. They resemble the shipwrecked 
 mariner, on a desert isle, surrounded with 
 fruits, of the flavors and properties of which 
 he is ignorant, as he is doubtful whether 
 they offer aliment or poison." 
 
 Says the same writer : " I was early impelled 
 to investigate the character and motives of 
 the crowd around me, eagerly rushing for- 
 ward in pursuit of happiness. I soon noted 
 multitudes relinquishing the chase in indo- 
 lent despondency. They affirmed to me 
 that they no longer believed in the existence 
 of happiness. I felt an insatiate craving, 
 and saw life through the illusive coloring of 
 youth. Unwilling to resign my hopes, I in- 
 quired of others, who seemed possessed of 
 greater strength of mind, and more weight 
 of character, if they could guide me to the 
 place of happiness ? Some answered with an 
 ill-concealed smile of derision, and others
 
 Systematic pursuit of 1>appiness. n 
 
 with bitterness. They declared that in their 
 view the pleasures of life were more than 
 counterbalanced by its pains. Because they 
 were disappointed and discouraged, they 
 deemed that their superior wisdom had en- 
 abled them to strip off the disguises of life, 
 and contemplate it with sullen resignation. 
 
 " I remarked others in high places whose 
 restless activity and brilliance dazzled the 
 multitude and inspired envy. I eagerly 
 asked of them the secret of happiness. Too 
 proud and self-satisfied to dissemble, they 
 made little effort to conceal their principles. 
 I saw their hearts contracted by the vileness 
 of egotism, and devoured with measureless 
 ambition. A faithful scrutiny, which pene- 
 trated beyond their dazzling exterior, showed 
 me the righteous reaction of their principles, 
 and convinced me that they suffered accord- 
 ing to their deserts. Weary and disheart- 
 ened, I left them, and repaired to the class 
 of stern and austere moralists. They repre- 
 sented the world to me as a melancholy and 
 mysterious valley, through which the so- 
 journer passes, groaning on his way to the 
 grave. Their doctrines inspired me at once 
 with sadness and terror. I soon resumed 
 the elastic confidence of youth, and replied: 
 ' I will never believe that the Author of my
 
 12 Systematic pursuit of Ibappfness. 
 
 being, who has imaged in my heart such pure 
 and tranquil pleasures, who has rendered me 
 capable of chaste love, and of friendship in 
 its sanctity, who has formed us innocent be- 
 fore we could practise virtue, and who has 
 connected the salutary bitterness of repent- 
 ance with errors, has unalterably willed our 
 misery.' 
 
 " Thence I passed to the opposite extreme, 
 and accosted a gay and reckless throng, 
 whose deportment showed that they had 
 found the object of my pursuit. I discov- 
 ered them to be fickle by character, and 
 vacillating from indifference. They had only 
 escaped the errors of the moralists, by sub- 
 stituting, in place of their austere maxims, 
 enjoyments without any regard to conse- 
 quences. I asked them to point me to 
 happiness. Without comprehending the 
 import of my question, they offered me par- 
 ticipation in their pleasures. But I saw 
 them prodigal of life, dissipating years in a 
 few days, and reserving the remnant of their 
 existence for unavailing repentance. 
 
 " In view of so many observations, I aban- 
 doned the idea of guiding my researches by 
 the counsels of others ; and began to inquire 
 for the secret in my own bosom. I heard 
 the multitude around me complaining, in
 
 Systematic pursuit of t>appiness. 13 
 
 disappointment and discouragement. ,1 re- 
 solved that I would not commence the 
 pursuit of happiness by seriously following in 
 their beaten path. I determined to reflect, 
 and patiently investigate a question of so 
 much moment. I detected at once the error 
 of the common impression, that pleasure and 
 happiness are the same. The former, fickle 
 and fleeting, assumes forms as various as 
 human caprice; and its most attractive 
 charm is novelty. The object which gives 
 it birth to-day, ceases to please, or inspires 
 disgust to-morrow. The perception of hap- 
 piness is not thus changeable and transient. 
 It creates the consciousness of an existence 
 so tranquil and satisfying, that the longer we 
 experience it the more we desire to prolong 
 its duration." 
 
 Another mistaken though common im- 
 pression is, that the more profoundly we 
 reflect, and make the pursuit of happiness a 
 study, the less we shall be likely to enjoy. 
 This is an error not only in regard to happi- 
 ness, but even pleasure. If it be innocent 
 and exempt from danger, to analyze it, and 
 reason upon it, so far from diminishing, pro- 
 longs the delight, and renders it higher. 
 Without reflection we only skim its surface ; 
 we do not penetrate, and enjoy it.
 
 14 Systematic pursuit of Ibappiness. 
 
 Let us observe the few who have acquired 
 the wisdom to enjoy that existence, which 
 the multitude waste. In their festal unions 
 of friendship, let us mark the development 
 of their desire to multiply the happy mo- 
 ments of life. By what ingenious and pleas- 
 ant discussions do they heighten the charms 
 of their conditions? With what delicacy of 
 tact do they analyze their enjoyments, and 
 taste them with a more prolonged and ex- 
 quisite relish ? With what skill do they 
 discipline themselves sometimes to efface the 
 images of the future, that nothing may em- 
 bitter or distract their relish of the present ; 
 and sometimes to invoke remembrances and 
 hopes, to impart to it still brighter embel- 
 lishments? 
 
 Contrary to the prevalent impression, I 
 therefore deem that, to reflect much upon it, 
 is one of the wisest means in the pursuit of 
 happiness. The first analysis of reflection, it 
 is true, dispels the charm with which youth 
 invests existence. It forces the conviction 
 upon us, that the pleasures of life are less 
 durable, and its forms more numerous and 
 prolonged, than we had anticipated. The 
 first result of the process is discouragement. 
 But, as we continue to reflect, objects change 
 their aspect a second time. The evils which
 
 Systematic pursuit of 1>appmess. 15 
 
 at first glance seemed so formidable, lose a 
 portion of their terrific semblance ; and the 
 fleeting pleasures of existence receive new 
 attractions from their analogy to human 
 weakness. 
 
 The motto of the Greek philosopher, 
 " know thyself," was an exceedingly wise one. 
 It is in converse with ourselves that we give 
 a right direction to the mind, elevation to 
 the soul, and gentleness and firmness to the 
 character. 
 
 We should look upon life as a book in 
 which we read a page every day. Every in- 
 structive incident that passes should be 
 noted. 
 
 Marcus Aurelius, the wise and good phi- 
 losopher, took great delight in converse with 
 himself ; and learned to find enjoyment in 
 the present by extracting from the past 
 lessons for the future. 
 
 No person of sensibility and sense can fail 
 to be affected by the account which he gives 
 of all those persons whose teachings had con- 
 curred to form his character and manners. 
 He says : " I learned of my grandfather, 
 Verus, to be gentle and complaisant. 
 
 " The reputation which my father left, and 
 the memory of his good actions which has 
 been preserved, taught me modesty. My
 
 i6 systematic pursuit of Ibappiness. 
 
 mother formed me to piety, taught me to be 
 liberal, and not even to meditate, still less, to 
 do a wrong. 
 
 " I owe it to my governor that I am patient 
 of labor, indulge few wants, know how to 
 work with my own hands, meddle with no 
 business that does not concern me, and give 
 no encouragement to informers. 
 
 " Diognetus taught me not to be amused 
 with frivolities, to yield no credit to charla- 
 tans and enchanters, and to have no faith in 
 conjurations, demons, and superstitions of 
 that sort. I learned of him to permit every 
 one to speak to me with entire freedom, 
 and to apply myself wholly to philosophy. 
 
 " Rusticus made me perceive that I needed 
 to correct my manners, that I ought to avoid 
 the pride of the sophists, and not use effort 
 to inspire the people with admiration of my 
 patience and austerity of life ; to be always 
 ready to pardon those who had offended me, 
 and to receive them kindly whenever they 
 were disposed to resume their former inter- 
 course. 
 
 " I learned of Appollonius to be at the 
 same time frank and firm in my designs, to 
 follow no guide but my reason, even in the 
 smallest matters, and to be always composed, 
 even under the most acute sufferings. By
 
 Systematic pursuit of fjappfness. 17 
 
 his example, I was instructed that it is possi- 
 ble to be at once severe and gentle. 
 
 " Sextus taught me to govern my house as 
 a good father ; to preserve a simple gravity 
 without affectation ; to attempt to divine and 
 anticipate the wishes and necessities of my 
 friends ; to endure with calmness and 
 patience, the ignorant and presumptuous 
 who speak without thinking what they say ; 
 and to sustain relations of kindness with 
 all. 
 
 " I learned from Alexander, the gram- 
 marian, in disputation to use no injurious 
 words in reply to my antagonist. 
 
 " Pronto taught me to know that kings 
 are surrounded by the envious, by knaves 
 and hypocrites. 
 
 " Alexander, the Platonist, instructed me 
 never to say or to write to any person inter- 
 ceding for my interest, ' I have had no time 
 to attend to your affairs,' nor to allege as an 
 excuse, ' I have been overwhelmed with 
 business,' but to be always prompt to render 
 all those good offices which the bands of 
 society demand. 
 
 " I owe to my brother, Severus, the love 
 which I have for truth and justice. From 
 him I derived the desire to govern my states 
 by equal laws, and to reign in such a manner
 
 is Systematic pursuit ot Dappiuess. 
 
 as that my subjects might possess perfect lib- 
 erty. 
 
 " I thank the Divinity for having given me 
 virtuous ancestors, a good father, a good 
 mother, good preceptors and good friends ; 
 in a word, all the good things I could have 
 desired. In the language of an able writer: 
 
 " 'A crowd of such useful thoughts cannot 
 but flow from such self-converse. Hold 
 every day one of these solitary conversations 
 with yourself. This is the way in which to 
 attain the highest relish of existence ; and, 
 if I may so say, to cast anchor in the river of 
 life.' " 
 
 Throughout the whole course of his life, 
 the wise and good Benjamin Franklin, whom 
 Americans will always delight to honor, 
 made it a practice to commune with himself 
 daily. In his charming Autobiography he 
 tells us how he endeavored to arrive at moral 
 perfection. He says : 
 
 " It was about this time I conceived the 
 bold and arduous project of arriving at moral 
 perfection. I wished to live without com- 
 mitting any fault at any time, and to con- 
 quer all that either natural inclination, 
 custom, or company, might lead me into. 
 As I knew, or thought I knew, what was 
 right and wrong, I did not see why I might
 
 Systematic pursuit of 1>appiness. 19 
 
 not always do the one and avoid the other. 
 But I soon found I had undertaken a task of 
 more difficulty than I had imagined. While 
 my attention was taken up, and care em- 
 ployed in guarding against one fault, I was 
 often surprised by another ; habit took the 
 advantage of inattention ; inclination was 
 sometimes too strong for reason. I con- 
 cluded, at length, that the mere speculative 
 conviction, that it was our interest to be 
 completely virtuous, was not sufficient to 
 prevent our slipping ; and that the contrary 
 habits must be broken, and good ones ac- 
 quired and established, before we can have 
 any dependence on a steady, uniform recti- 
 tude of conduct. For this purpose I there- 
 fore tried the following method. 
 
 " In the various enumerations of the moral 
 virtues I had met with in my reading, I 
 found the catalogue more or less numerous, 
 as different writers included more or fewer 
 ideas under the same name. Temperance^ for 
 example, was by some confined to eating 
 and drinking; while by others it was ex- 
 tended to mean the moderating every other 
 pleasure, appetite, inclination, or passion, 
 bodily or mentally, even to our avarice and 
 ambition. I proposed to myself, for the sake 
 of clearness, to use rather more names, with
 
 20 Systematic pursuit of Ibapptness. 
 
 fewer ideas annexed to each, than a few 
 names with more ideas ; and I included un- 
 der thirteen names of virtues, all that at that 
 time occurred to me as necessary or desira- 
 ble ; and annexed to each a short precept, 
 which fully expressed the extent I gave to 
 its meaning. 
 
 " The names of virtues, with their precepts, 
 were: 
 
 " i. TEMPERANCE. Eat not to dullness ; 
 drink not to elevation. 
 
 " 2. SILENCE. Speak not but what may 
 benefit others or yourself ; avoid trifling con- 
 versation. 
 
 " 3. ORDER. Let all your things have 
 their places ; let each part of your business 
 have its time. 
 
 "4. RESOLUTION. Resolve to perform 
 what you ought ; perform without fail what 
 you resolve. 
 
 " 5. FRUGALITY. Make no expense but 
 to do good to others or yourself ; that is, 
 waste nothing. 
 
 " 6. INDUSTRY. Lose no time; be always 
 employed in something useful ; cut off all 
 unnecessary actions. 
 
 " 7. SINCERITY. Use no hurtful deceit ; 
 think innocently and justly ; and, if you 
 speak, speak accordingly.
 
 Systematic pursuit of tmppiness. 21 
 
 " 8. JUSTICE. Wrong none by doing in- 
 juries, or omitting the benefits that are your 
 duty. 
 
 " 9. MODERATION. Avoid extremes ; for- 
 bear resenting injuries, so much as you think 
 they deserve. 
 
 " 10. CLEANLINESS. Tolerate no unclean- 
 liness in body, clothes, or habitation. 
 
 "ii. TRANQUILLITY. Be not disturbed 
 at trifles, or at accidents common or un- 
 avoidable. 
 
 " 12. CHASTITY 
 
 " 13. HUMILITY. Imitate Jesus and Soc- 
 rates. 
 
 "My intention being to acquire the habitude 
 of all these virtues, I judged it would be well 
 not to distract my attention by attempting 
 the whole at once, but to fix it on one of 
 them at a time ; and when I should be master 
 of that, then to proceed to another ; and so 
 on, until I should have gone on through the 
 thirteen. And, as the previous acquisition 
 of some might facilitate the acquisition of cer- 
 tain others, I arranged them with that view, as 
 they stand above. Temperance first, as it 
 tends to procure that coolness and clearness 
 of head which is so necessary, where constant 
 vigilance was to be kept up, and a guard 
 maintained against the unremitting attrac-
 
 22 Systematic pursuit of f)appfnes3. 
 
 tion of ancient habits and the force of per- 
 petual temptations. This being acquired 
 and established, Silence would be more easy ; 
 and my desire being to gain knowledge, at 
 the same time that I improved in virtue, and 
 considering that in conversation it was ob- 
 tained rather by the use of the ear than of 
 the tongue, and therefore wishing to break a 
 habit I was getting into of prattling, punning, 
 and jesting, which only made me acceptable 
 to trifling company, I gave Silence the second 
 place. This and the next, Order, I expected 
 would allow- me more time for attending to 
 my project and my studies. Resolution, once 
 become habitual, would keep me firm in my 
 endeavors to obtain all the subsequent vir- 
 tues ; Frugality and Industry relieving me 
 from any remaining debt, and producing 
 affluence and independence, would make 
 more easy the practice of Sincerity and Jus- 
 tice, etc., etc. 
 
 " Conceiving, then, . . . that daily examina- 
 tion would be necessary, I contrived the 
 following method for conducting that ex- 
 amination. 
 
 " I made a little book, in which I allotted 
 a page for each of the virtues. I ruled each 
 page with red ink, so as to have seven 
 columns, one for each day of the week, mark-
 
 Systematic pursuit of toappiness. 23 
 
 ing each column with a letter for the day. 
 I crossed these columns with thirteen red 
 lines, marking the beginning of each line 
 
 FORM OF THE PAGES. 
 
 TEMPERANCE. 
 Eat not to dullness; drink not to dan&m. 
 
 Sun. M. T. W. Th. F. 
 
 Tern. 
 
 Oid. 
 
 : 
 
 Fni. 
 
 Ind. 
 
 -: .. 
 
 Mod. 
 
 Clea. 
 
 Tran. 
 
 Horn. 
 
 with the first letter of one of the virtues ; on 
 which line and in its proper column, I might 
 mark, by a little black spot, every fault I
 
 24 Systematic pursuit of 
 
 found upon examination to have been com- 
 mitted respecting that virtue, upon that 
 day. 
 
 " I determined to give a week's strict atten- 
 tion to each of the virtues successively. 
 Thus, in the first week, my great guard was 
 to avoid even the least offence against Tem- 
 perance ; leaving other virtues to their or- 
 dinary chance, only marking every evening 
 the faults of the day. Thus, if in the first 
 week I could keep my first line, marked T, 
 clear of spots, I supposed the habit of that 
 virtue so much strengthened, and its opposite 
 weakened, that I might venture extending 
 my attention to include the next, and for the 
 following week keep both lines clear of spots. 
 Proceeding thus to the last, I could get 
 through a course complete in thirteen weeks, 
 and four courses in a year. And like him, 
 who, having a garden to weed, does not 
 attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at 
 once, which would exceed his reach and his 
 strength, but works on one of the beds at a 
 time, and, having accomplished the first, pro- 
 ceeds to the second ; so I should have, I 
 hoped, the encouraging pleasure of seeing on 
 my pages the progress made in virtue, by 
 clearing successively my lines of their spots ; 
 till in the end, by a number of courses, I
 
 Systematic pursuit of f>appiness. 25 
 
 should be happy in viewing a clean book, 
 after a thirteen weeks' daily examination." 
 
 That Franklin attached great importance 
 to this plan, will be seen from what he says 
 in the following passage : 
 
 " // may be well my posterity sJiould be in- 
 formed, tJiat to this little artifice, with tJie 
 blessing of God, tJteir ancestor owed tJu con- 
 stant felicity of his life, down to his se^'enty- 
 ninth year, in which this is written. What 
 reverses may attend the remainder is in the 
 hand of Providence ; but, if they arrive, the 
 reflection on past happiness enjoyed ought 
 to help his bearing them with more resigna- 
 tion. To Temperance he ascribes his long- 
 continued health, and what is still left to him 
 of a good constitution ; to Industry and 
 Frugality the early easiness of his circum- 
 stances and acquisition of his fortune, with 
 all that knowledge that enabled him to be a 
 useful citizen, and obtained for him some 
 degree of reputation among the learned ; to 
 Sincerity and Justice, the confidence of his 
 country, and the honorable employs it con- 
 ferred upon him ; and to the joint influence 
 of the whole mass of the virtues, even in the 
 imperfect state he was able to acquire them, 
 all that evenness of temper, and that cheer- 
 fulness in conversation, which makes his
 
 26 Systematic pursuit of Ibappiness. 
 
 company still sought for, and agreeable 
 even to his young acquaintance. I hope, 
 therefore, that some of my descendants 
 may follow the example and reap the 
 benefit."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HAPPINESS DERIVED FROM BOOKS. 
 
 The happiness derived from good books, 
 to the intelligent, is incalculably great. Gib- 
 bon said that he would not exchange his love 
 of books for " the wealth of the Indies." 
 
 Wisdom can only be gained by the dili- 
 gent study of books, and Solomon, the wisest 
 of men, expressly promises long life, riches, 
 and honor to the man who finds her, and he 
 sings her praises in language which cannot 
 be repeated too often : 
 
 " Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, 
 And the man that getteth understanding : 
 For the merchandise of it is better than silver, 
 And the gain thereof than fine gold. 
 She is more precious than rubies ; 
 And all the things thou canst desire are not to be 
 
 compared unto her. 
 Length of days is in her right hand, 
 And in her left hand riches and honor. 
 Her ways are ways of pleasantness. 
 And all her paths are peace" 
 27
 
 23 fjappiness Berfvefc from JBoofcs. 
 
 Here we have an epitome of the art of 
 living long and happily, given us by the wis- 
 est of men. 
 
 In the unlearned man the intellectual fac- 
 ulties sleep. When his appetites are satisfied, 
 he sees neither pleasures to desire, nor pains 
 to fear. He is only conversant with the 
 pleasures of the senses. Of the pleasures of 
 the imagination, or those of the intellect, he 
 neither knows nor cares nothing. 
 
 This negative happiness would bring deso- 
 lation to the heart of an educated man. 
 
 Every day he experiences a new craving, 
 which occupation, grave or pleasant, but rap- 
 idly changed and renewed can alone appease. 
 
 Ennui, after vice, is the greatest enemy to 
 happiness. A writer says : " Some escape it 
 without seeming calculation. My neighbor 
 every morning turns over twenty gazettes, 
 the state articles of which are copied the one 
 from the other. Economizing the pleasure 
 of this reading, and gravely reposing in the 
 intervals, he communicates, sometimes with 
 an oracular tone, sometimes with a modest 
 reserve, his reflections to those who surround 
 him ; and, at length, leaves the reading-room 
 with the importance of one who feels that 
 he has discharged a debt to society." 
 
 A man may date defiance to the fear of the
 
 Dappiness BerfveD from JSoofcs. 29 
 
 weight of time from the moment in which he 
 feels sincere pleasure in cultivating his mind. 
 He has the magic key which unlocks the ex- 
 haustless treasury of happiness. He may 
 then live in the age and country which he 
 prefers without regard to time and space. 
 He questions, and receives satisfactory an- 
 swers, from the wise and good of all ages 
 and countries. 
 
 In the republic of letters men of genius 
 are chiefs. Every man stands upon his merit, 
 and receives his just meed of praise. As a 
 reward for their toils in behalf of their kind, 
 they have pleasures reserved for themselves 
 alone. What a sublime sentiment must have 
 elevated the spirit of Newton when a part of 
 the mysterious laws of the universe first 
 dawned on his mind ! 
 
 Books are the legacies which men of talent 
 bequeath to mankind, to be handed down 
 from generation to generation, as rich gifts 
 to those unborn. 
 
 Books of a scientific character add greatly 
 to the interest and variety of life. It is a 
 great mistake to suppose the sciences dry, 
 difficult or prosaic. Many of them may be 
 easily acquired, and they will be found of 
 great interest even to the general reader. 
 We should endeavor to know something of
 
 30 "fcappiness Derives from JBoofcs. 
 
 all the arts and sciences, and everything of 
 the one which is most important to us in our 
 professions or occupations. 
 
 The debt which we owe to science was 
 eloquently described by Archdeacon Farrar, 
 in his address at Liverpool College, some 
 years ago. He said : 
 
 "In this great commercial city, where you 
 are surrounded by the triumphs of science 
 and of mechanism, you, whose river is 
 plowed with the great steamships whose 
 white wake has been called the fittest avenue 
 to the palace front of a mercantile people 
 you know well that in the achievements of 
 science there is not only beauty and wonder, 
 but also beneficence and power. It is not 
 only that she has revealed to us infinite space 
 crowded with unnumbered worlds ; infinite 
 time peopled by unnumbered existences ; 
 infinite organisms hitherto invisible but fullof 
 delicate and iridescent loveliness ; but also 
 that she has been, as a great Archangel of 
 Mercy, devoting herself to the service of 
 man. She has labored, her votaries have 
 labored, not to increase the power of despots 
 or add to the magnificence of courts, but to 
 extend human happiness, to economize hu- 
 man effort, to extinguish human pain. Where, 
 of old, men toiled, half blinded and half
 
 f>appfnes3 Derived from JSoofts. 31 
 
 naked, in the mouth of the glowing furnace 
 to mix the white-hot iron, she now substi- 
 tutes the mechanical action of the viewless 
 air. She has enlisted the sunbeam in her ser- 
 vice to limn for us, with absolute fidelity, the 
 faces of the friends we love. She has shown 
 the poor miner how he may work in safety, 
 even amid the explosive fire-damp of the 
 mine. She has, by her anaesthetics, enabled 
 the sufferer to be hushed and unconscious 
 while the delicate hand of some skilled oper- 
 ator cuts a fragment from the nervous circle 
 of the unquivering eye. She points not to 
 pyramids built during weary centuries by the 
 sweat of miserable nations, but to the light- 
 house, and the steamship, to the railroad and 
 the telegraph. She has restored eyes to the 
 blind and hearing to the deaf. She has 
 lengthened life, she has minimized danger, 
 she has controlled madness, and trampled 
 on disease. And on all these grounds, I think 
 that none of our sons should grow up wholly 
 ignorant of studies which at once train the 
 reason and fire the imagination, which fash- 
 ion as well as forge, which can feed as well 
 as fill, the mind." 
 
 The variety of knowledge is endless, and 
 the student is never at a loss for mental 
 aliment.
 
 32 Ibappfness Derives from JBoofes. 
 
 " We may sit in our library and yet be in 
 all quarters of the earth. We may travel 
 round the world with Captain Cook or Dar- 
 win, with Kingsley or Ruskin, who will show 
 us much more perhaps than ever we should 
 see for ourselves. The world itself has no 
 limits for us ; Humboldt and Herschel will 
 carry us far away to the mysterious nebulae, 
 far beyond the sun and even the stars ; time 
 has no more bounds than space ; history 
 stretches out behind us, and geology will 
 carry us back for millions of years before the 
 creation of man, even to the origin of the 
 material Universe itself. We are not limited 
 even to one plane of thought. Aristotle and 
 Plato will transport us into a sphere none 
 the less delightful because it requires some 
 training to appreciate it. We may make a 
 library, if we do but rightly use it, a true 
 paradise on earth, a garden of Eden without 
 its one drawback, for all is open to us, includ- 
 ing and especially the fruit of the tree of 
 knowledge of which we are told that our first 
 mother sacrificed all the rest. Here we may 
 read the most important histories, the most 
 exciting volumes of travels and adventures, 
 the most interesting stories, the most beau- 
 tiful poems ; we may meet the most eminent 
 statesmen and poets and philosophers, bene-
 
 fcappiness 2>erix>eD from JSoofcs. 33 
 
 fit by the ideas of the greatest thinkers, and 
 enjoy all the greatest creations of human 
 genius.'' 
 
 By reading the experiences recorded in 
 the biographies of individuals and the history 
 of nations, a young man may become old 
 without wrinkles or gray hairs, and he has 
 all the privileges of age without the infirmi- 
 ties and inconveniences incident to that 
 period of life. 
 
 Isaac Walton says : " He that loveth a 
 book will never want a faithful friend, a 
 wholesome counsellor, a cheerful companion, 
 an effectual comforter. By study, by read- 
 ing, by thinking, one may innocently divert 
 and pleasantly entertain himself, as in all 
 weathers, so in all fortunes." 
 
 Macaulay's love of reading is well known. 
 It was one of the chief elements of happiness 
 in his life. 
 
 Sir G. Trevelyan says of his love of read- 
 ing : " Of the feelings which Macaulay en- 
 tertained toward the great minds of bygone 
 ages it is not for any one except himself to 
 speak. He has told us how his debt to them 
 was incalculable ; how they guided him to 
 truth ; how they filled his mind with noble 
 and graceful images ; how they stood by 
 him in all vicissitudes comforters in sorrow,
 
 34 Ibapptness Derives from 3J3oohs. 
 
 nurses in sickness, companions in solitude, 
 the old friends who are never seen with new 
 faces ; who are the same in wealth and in 
 poverty, in glory and in obscurity. Great as 
 were the honors and possessions which 
 Macaulay acquired by his pen, all who knew 
 him were well aware that the titles and re- 
 wards which he gained by his own works 
 were as nothing in the balance as compared 
 with the pleasure he derived from the works 
 of others." 
 
 As long ago as 1473, Richard de Bury, 
 Bishop of Durham, wrote in praise of books : 
 " These are the masters who instruct us 
 without rods and ferules, without hard words 
 and anger, without clothes or money. If you 
 approach them, they are not asleep ; if inves- 
 tigating you interrogate them, they conceal 
 nothing ; if you mistake them, they never 
 grumble ; if you are ignorant, they cannot 
 laugh at you." 
 
 Petrarch had such a love of books that he 
 regarded them as real friends. He says of 
 them : " I have friends whose society is ex- 
 tremely agreeable to me ; they are of all 
 ages and of every country. They have dis- 
 tinguished themselves both in the cabinet 
 and in the field, and obtained high honors 
 for their knowledge of the sciences. It is
 
 Derived from JBoofcs. 35 
 
 easy to gain access to them, for they are 
 always at my service, and I admit them to 
 my company, and dismiss them from it, 
 whenever I please. They are never trouble- 
 some, but immediately answer every ques- 
 tion I ask them. Some relate to me the 
 events of past ages, while others reveal to 
 me the secrets of Nature. Some teach me 
 how to live, and others how to die. Some 
 by their vivacity drive away my cares and 
 exhilarate my spirits ; while others give for- 
 titude to my mind, and teach me the impor- 
 tant lesson how to restrain my desires, and 
 to depend wholly on myself. They open to 
 me, in short, the various avenues of all the 
 arts and sciences, and upon their information 
 I may safely rely in all emergencies. In re- 
 turn for all their services, they only ask me 
 to accommodate them with a convenient 
 chamber in some corner of my humble 
 habitation, where they may repose in peace ; 
 for these friends are more delighted by the 
 tranquillity of retirement than with the 
 tumults of society." 
 
 If books of a moral and religious character 
 are not circulated more widely in this coun- 
 try among the masses, and the people do not 
 become more moral and religious, it is diffi- 
 cult to tell what will become of us as a
 
 36 "fcappfness Derived from JBoofes. 
 
 nation. If the Bible and other good books 
 do not reach every home, literature of a 
 licentious character will. If the power of the 
 gospel is not felt throughout the country, 
 anarchy and misrule, misery and corruption 
 will assuredly reign. 
 
 The best books may now be had for such a 
 small price that the poorest mechanic should 
 be able to have a library. 
 
 Many of our young people think they are 
 educated when they leave school or college. 
 The collegiate training which they have re- 
 ceived, has, on the contrary, only prepared 
 them to become educated. As Carlyle truly 
 says : " After all manner of professors have 
 done their best for us, the place we are to 
 get knowledge is in books. The true univer- 
 sity of these days, is a good collection of 
 books." Education is to the human soul, 
 what sculpture is to a block of marble. The 
 wise, the great, the good, the statesman, the 
 hero and the saint, very often lie concealed 
 and hid in a man of obscure origin, which a 
 proper education might have disinterred and 
 brought to light. We have no material which 
 should be wasted. There is still room for 
 men like Lincoln and Garfield and the host 
 of great men who have preceded them. 
 
 There can be no greater and nobler work in
 
 Berired trom JSoofis. 37 
 
 the world, and no greater political wisdom, 
 than to rear and build up man, and to form 
 and fashion him to piety, justice and tem- 
 perance, and all kinds of honest and worthy 
 actions. 
 
 Our common school system of public in- 
 struction should be the first object of our 
 state governments. The greater the number 
 of schoolhouses, the fewer will be the jails 
 and almshouses.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHEERFULNESS. 
 
 King George the Third was deeply inter- 
 ested in the study of longevity, and he made 
 its causes a subject of careful investigation. 
 On one occasion he procured two persons, 
 each considerably more than a hundred years 
 of age, to dance in his presence. He then 
 asked them to relate their modes of living, 
 that, if possible, he might draw from them 
 some clue to the causes of their vigorous old 
 age. The one had been a shepherd, remark- 
 ably temperate and circumspect in his diet 
 and regimen ; the other a hedger, equally 
 noted for the irregularity, exposure and in- 
 temperance of his life. The monarch could 
 draw no inferences, to guide his inquiries, 
 from such different modes of life, terminat- 
 ing in the same result. On further inquiry, 
 however, he learned, that they were alike dis- 
 tinguished by a tranquil easiness of temper, 
 active habits, and early rising.
 
 Cbecttulness. 39 
 
 So far as the author's observation and 
 reading extend, there are three circumstances 
 which have almost invariably accompanied 
 health and longevity. These aged persons 
 have lived in elevated, rather than in low 
 and marshy situations ; have been possessed 
 of a cheerful and tranquil temperament, and 
 active habits; and have been early risers. 
 People who are cheerful and light-hearted, 
 undoubtedly live longer and more happily 
 than those of a sorrowful and melancholy 
 disposition. 
 
 Shakespeare says: "A light heart lives 
 long," and we are told by the Bible that, " a 
 merry heart doeth good like a medicine, 
 but a broken spirit drieth up the bones." 
 The lives of centenarians proves conclusively 
 the truth of the scriptural observations. 
 Lord Bacon also observes, that, " to be free- 
 minded and cheerfully disposed at hours of 
 meals, and of sleep, and of exercise^ is one of 
 tJte best precepts of long lasting" 
 
 Fortunately cheerfulness may be culti- 
 vated, and no matter how sad or morose a 
 man may be, he can become happy and 
 cheerful if he will only try, and when once 
 acquired it is a jewel of inestimable value. 
 Montaigne says : " The highest wisdom is con- 
 tinual cheerfulness, and that such a state, like
 
 40 Cheerfulness. 
 
 the region above the moon, is always clear 
 and serene." 
 
 Sadness is unnatural ; cheerfulness natu- 
 ral. Ruskin says : " Cheerfulness is as 
 natural to the heart of a man in strong 
 health, as color to his cheek ; and wherever 
 there is habitual gloom, there must be either 
 bad air, unwholesome food, improperly severe 
 labor, or erring habits of life." 
 
 We should be cheerful always. There Is no 
 road but will be easier travelled, no work but 
 will be better done, no load but will be lighter, 
 no shadow on heart and brain but will lift 
 sooner for a person of determined cheerful- 
 ness. 
 
 We must often console ourselves with the 
 words of the poet, 
 
 " Be still, sad heart, and cease repining, 
 Behind the cloud, the sun's still shining, 
 Thy fate is the common lot of all, 
 Into each life some rain must fall." 
 
 The habit of looking for the silver lining of 
 the cloud, and when it is found, of continuing 
 to look at it, rather than at the leaden gray 
 in the middle, will help us over many hard 
 places. 
 
 Even the sad, dyspeptic Carlyle, rec-
 
 Cheerfulness. 41 
 
 ognized the value of cheerfulness, for he 
 says of it: "Wondrous is the strength of 
 cheerfulness, altogether past calculation its 
 powers of endurance. Efforts to be perma- 
 nently useful, must be uniformly joyous ; a 
 spirit all sunshine, graceful from very glad- 
 ness, beautiful because bright." 
 
 "Again he says: "Wondrous is the strength 
 of cheerfulness, and its power of endurance 
 the cheerful man will do more in the same 
 time, will do it better, will persevere in it 
 longer, than the sad or sullen." 
 
 He says also : " Oh, give us the man who 
 sings at his work."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE PLEASURES OF DUTY. 
 
 There is no nobler word in the English 
 language than duty. Without the perform- 
 ance of duty, there can be no happiness. 
 We can face or fly from every evil, except 
 the consciousness of duty unperformed. As 
 Sir John Lubbock says : " We ought not to 
 picture Duty to ourselves, or to others, as a 
 stern task-mistress. She is rather a kind and 
 sympathetic mother, ever ready to shelter us 
 from the cares and anxieties of this world, 
 and to guide us in the paths of peace." 
 
 The violation of duty has been punished 
 in every age of the world. It has been well 
 said, by. Colton, that: "Anthony sought for 
 happiness in love ; Brutus, in glory ; Caesar, 
 in dominion ; the first found disgrace, the 
 second disgust, the last ingratitude, and each 
 destruction." The soul is immediately con- 
 scious of the presence of God, when it resolves 
 to perform every duty. 
 42
 
 C be pleasures of But?. 43 
 
 We should do the duty that lies nearest at 
 hand. The justly celebrated Dr. Cuyler 
 wisely says : " The best things are nearest : 
 light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties 
 at your hand, the path of God just before 
 you. Then do not grasp at the stars, but do 
 life's common work as it comes, certain that 
 daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest 
 things of life." 
 
 Again he says : " God always has an angel 
 of help for those who are willing to do their 
 duty." 
 
 These words are worthy of great consid- 
 eration. We are too apt to waste our time 
 in looking out of the way for occasions to 
 exercise rare and great virtues, and in doing 
 this we step over the ordinary ones that lie 
 directly in the path before us. 
 
 He only is truly wise who, in all the rela- 
 tions of life, does his duty according to the 
 light he has before him, and then leaves all 
 beside to God. 
 
 It is a good rule to ask ourselves what we 
 shall wish on the morrow that we had done, 
 if we are in doubt what to do. 
 
 Few persons, however, are endowed with 
 that strength of mind which enabled Epicte- 
 tus to say : " I am always content with that 
 which happens, for I think that what God
 
 44 tlbe pleasures of Dutg. 
 
 chooses is better than what I choose." The 
 same great writer advises us to practise self- 
 control in the following language : " You are 
 not Hercules, and you are not able to purge 
 away the wickedness of others ; nor yet are 
 you Theseus, able to purge away the evil 
 things of Attica. Clear away your own. 
 From yourself, from your thoughts ; cast 
 away, instead of Procrustes and Sciron, sad- 
 ness, fear, desire, envy, malevolence, avarice, 
 effeminacy, intemperance. But it is not pos- 
 sible to eject these things otherwise than by 
 looking to God only, by fixing your affec- 
 tions on Him only, by being consecrated by 
 His commands." 
 
 And concerning the cure of anger he says : 
 " If, then, you wish not to be of an angry 
 temper, do not feed the habit ; throw 
 nothing on it which will increase it ; at first 
 keep quiet, and count the days on which 
 you have not been angry. I used to be in a 
 passion every day ; now every second day ; 
 then every third ; then every fourth. But 
 if you have intermitted thirty days, make a 
 sacrifice to God. For the habit at first be- 
 gins to be weakened, and then is completely 
 destroyed. When you can say : ' I have not 
 been vexed to-day, nor the day before, nor 
 yet on any succeeding day during two or
 
 pleasures of 2>utg. 45 
 
 three months; but I took care when some 
 exciting things happened,' be assured that 
 you are in a good way." 
 
 We cannot read too often the instructive 
 lesson drawn for us by Marcus Aurelius in 
 his character of Antoninus : " Do everything 
 as a disciple of Antoninus. Remember his 
 constancy in every act which was conform- 
 able to reason, and his evenness in all things, 
 and his piety, and the serenity of his coun- 
 tenance, and his sweetness, and his disregard 
 of empty fame, and his efforts to understand 
 things ; and how he would never let any- 
 thing pass without having first most care- 
 fully examined it and clearly understood it ; 
 and how he bore with those who blamed 
 him unjustly without blaming them in re- 
 turn ; how he did nothing in a hurry ; and 
 how he listened not to calumnies, and how 
 exact an examiner of manners and actions 
 he was ; not given to reproach people, nor 
 timid, nor suspicious, nor a sophist ; with 
 how little he was satisfied, such as lodging, 
 bed, dress, food, servants ; how laborious 
 and patient ; how sparing he was in his diet ; 
 his firmness and uniformity in his friend- 
 ships ; how he tolerated freedom of speech 
 in those who opposed his opinions ; the 
 pleasure that he had when any man showed
 
 46 Gbe pleasures of Dutg. 
 
 him anything better ; and how pious he was 
 without superstition. Imitate all this that 
 thou mayest have as good a conscience, 
 when thy last hour comes, as he had." 
 
 When we realize that every moment has 
 its duty, and that there can be no true 
 pleasure unless it is performed ; that the 
 highest, most delicate, the most sensible of 
 all pleasures, consists in promoting the hap- 
 piness of others, we will have made consid- 
 erable progress in the art of being happy.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TRANQUILLITY OF MIND. 
 
 Tranquillity of mind is, of course, essential 
 to happiness. By tranquillity is meant that 
 state of the mind in which, estranged from 
 the weaknesses of life, it tastes that happy 
 calm which it owes to its own power and 
 elevation. Inaccessible to the storms of 
 life, it still admits those emotions which 
 give birth to pure pleasures, and yields to 
 the generous movements which the virtues 
 inspire. To the ignorant only does tranquil- 
 lity seem indifference. It is accompanied by 
 a delightful consciousness of existence. We 
 may reflect with a just pride upon the causes 
 which produce it. Without reasoning we re- 
 spire and enjoy it. It is one of the appro- 
 priate pleasures of the sage. 
 
 A good conscience is the profoundest 
 source of this delightful calm. We shall at- 
 tempt in vain to veil our faults from our- 
 selves without it, or to listen only to the 
 47
 
 48 {Tranquillity of dlMn&. 
 
 voice of adulation. An interior witness 
 must testify that we have endeavored to lead 
 useful lives, and that we have always wel- 
 comed those who offered opportunities to do 
 good. But, unfortunately, this feeling of 
 calm content, which is the effect of duty per- 
 formed, does not take possession of us until 
 many years of our lives have been thrown 
 away in a vain search for the beautiful and 
 the good. But how truly happy should 
 we be, when we can truthfully repeat the 
 words put into the mouth of Wolsey by 
 Shakespeare, after the haughty prelate had 
 been sobered by his fall from power : 
 
 " I know myself now, and I feel within me 
 A peace above all earthly dignities ; 
 A still and quiet conscience." 
 
 To the evil-doer, on the contrary, con- 
 science gives no peace, no tranquillity of mind. 
 Shakespeare has finely portrayed the punish- 
 ment inflicted upon the guilty, by conscience, 
 in the following passages : 
 
 "My conscience hath a thousand several 
 
 tongues, 
 
 And ev'ry tongue brings in a sev'ral tale, 
 And ev'ry tale condemns me for a villain."
 
 Sranqulllitg of dfcin&. 49 
 
 Again : 
 
 ' O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! 
 The lights burn blue. Is it not dead midnight ? 
 Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh." 
 
 Unfortunately the consciences of the most 
 hardened villains become seared, and they 
 become indifferent to its censure or its praise. 
 As an example in point, it is said that a mer- 
 cenary Irishstatesman,uponbeing reproached 
 with having sold his country, said he thanked 
 God he had a country to sell ! 
 
 Nothing is more fatal to tranquillity of 
 mind than unregulated ambition. As Bur- 
 ton wisely says : " As dogs in a wheel, or 
 squirrels in a cage, ambitious men still climb 
 and climb, with great, labor and incessant 
 anxiety, but never reach the top." 
 
 The world on the other hand says : " Shine 
 ascend high places bind fortune to your 
 chariot wheels " ; the multitudes listen, and 
 consume life in tormenting desires which end 
 in disappointment. He who wishes to be 
 truly happy, then, should never renounce the 
 pleasures, quiet and peaceful in their nature, 
 which family, friends, and free pursuits daily 
 renew, except to do his duty to his country; 
 but when the land of his birth calls for his 
 aid, he must be ready, for her good, to be
 
 50 {Tranquillity of dfcinfc. 
 
 prodigal of his blood and treasure, and fly 
 privacy and his retreat, emulating the ex- 
 ample of him, of whom it was said by Byron : 
 
 " Yes, one the first the last the best, 
 The Cincinnatus of the West, 
 Whom envy dared not hate 
 Bequeathed the name of Washington, 
 To make men blush there was but one." 
 
 He should, then, when his country is in 
 danger, shun ignoble ease, and be animated 
 by the spirit of Nathan Hale, that glorious 
 martyr, who regretted that he could die but 
 once to serve his country. 
 
 The proud positions of the great, and the 
 fortunes of the rich, are not to be envied, for 
 it is true now as in the olden time, that the 
 head is uneasy that wears the crown. 
 
 Agur displayed great wisdom when he 
 asked for neither poverty nor riches, but sim- 
 ply enough for nature's ends. 
 
 Shakespeare placed contentment above all 
 other essentials of happiness. He says : 
 
 " My crown is in my heart, not on my head ; 
 Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, 
 Nor to be seen ; my crown is call'd content ; 
 A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy." 
 
 In aiding us to acquire tranquillity of mind, 
 philosophy comes as a useful handmaid to
 
 tranquillity of Aind. 51 
 
 religion, and her methods are not to be 
 despised, and says Goethe, "for this reason 
 one ought every day at least, to Jieara little song, 
 read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it 
 were possible, to speak a few reasonable 
 words" This should be done in the 
 morning.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 COMPETENCE. 
 
 " Virtue alone is happiness below," wrote 
 Pope. A moment's reflection will convince 
 a man of ordinary intelligence that this is 
 not true. Virtue is one of the most essential 
 ingredients of happiness, but alone it will 
 not procure it, if we except the examples of 
 such extraordinary men as Diogenes and 
 Epictetus. In refutation of Pope's axiom, 
 it is only necessary to say that, when a man's 
 children suffer from hunger, when his friends 
 are in distress, when he has a broken limb or 
 a broken heart, although he may be endowed 
 with the greatest virtue, he cannot be happy 
 until the cause of his misery has been re- 
 moved. 
 
 In addition to a virtuous disposition, in 
 order to be completely happy, the average 
 man should have a competence. What 
 amount of fortune is necessary to render a 
 man independent depends upon the indi- 
 52
 
 Competence. 53 
 
 vidual. He who can purchase the necessaries 
 of life has all that he needs. The immortal 
 Lincoln thought a fortune of twenty thou- 
 sand dollars should satisfy his own wants, or 
 those of any other reasonable man. But in 
 this money-making and money-loving age, 
 the desire to get rich causes untold misery. 
 When a man has made up his mind how 
 much money he needs to render him inde- 
 pendent, he should not cease to labor until 
 he acquires it. No man can be truly happy 
 who leads an idle life, but he should not 
 make the accumulation of wealth the chief 
 object of existence, as many short-minded 
 men do. The aim of a rational man is to 
 lead a happy life, both in this world and in 
 the world to come, and he who is sordid 
 enough to devote all his energies to getting 
 money invariably gets what he deserves 
 misery. 
 
 Having decided what amount of money 
 will constitute a competence in his case, 
 with a judgment free from ambition, a man 
 should, by industry and economy, endeavor 
 to obtain that sum. He will find much solid 
 happiness in the pursuit of his object, and 
 while the pleasures of anticipation will in this 
 case not equal those of realization, they are 
 not to be despised.
 
 54 Competence. 
 
 To be satisfied with a moderate fortune is, 
 perhaps, the highest test and best proof of 
 wisdom. He who can contentedly live on a 
 little gives a pledge that he would preserve 
 his probity and courage in the most difficult 
 situations. He has placed his happiness 
 far above the caprices of his kind and the 
 vicissitudes of life. But few men have this 
 fortitude in as great a degree as they should 
 have it. 
 
 The author Hoes not mean to say that 
 wealth is not desirable. The opportunities 
 for doing good which it offers are alone suf- 
 ficient to make it desirable. And what is 
 nobler than an humble imitation of the life 
 of Him who went about doing good ? The 
 wealthy men and women of our country 
 have done themselves great credit by their 
 laudable desire to use their means in such a 
 way as to benefit their species, and no one can 
 justly reproach the Vanderbilts, the Goulds, 
 the Astors, and the hundreds of other un- 
 selfish and humane millionaires who have 
 performed countless deeds of beneficence, for 
 their indifference to the condition of their 
 fellow-men. 
 
 It has been well said that, " There are mo- 
 ments when the desire of wealth penetrates 
 even the retreat of a sage, not with the pue-
 
 Competence. 55 
 
 rile and dangerous wish to dazzle with show, 
 but with the hope, dear to a good mind, that 
 it might become a means of extended useful- 
 ness. When imagination creates her gay 
 visions we sometimes think of riches, and in 
 our dreams make an employment of them 
 worthy of envy. What a delightful field 
 there opens for those who possess riches. 
 They can encourage the progress of science 
 and aid in advancing the glory of letters. 
 How much assistance they can offer to de- 
 serving young people whose first efforts 
 announce happy dispositions, and whose 
 character, at the same time, little fitted for 
 worldly success, is a compound of indepen- 
 dence and timidity? How much they 
 honor themselves in decking the modest 
 retreat of the aged scholar who has conse- 
 crated his life to study, and who has neglected 
 his private fortune to enrich the age with the 
 inventions of genius ! They have the means 
 of giving a noble impulse to the arts without 
 trenching upon their resources. A picture 
 which perpetuates the remembrance of a 
 generous or heroic exploit costs no more 
 than a group of bacchanalians or debauchees. 
 A career more beautiful still is opened to 
 opulence. Of how many vices and how 
 many tears it may dry the source ! A rich
 
 Competence. 
 
 man to become happy has only to wish to 
 become so. He can not only immortalize his 
 name as the patron of arts and useful inven- 
 tions, but, what is better, can deserve the 
 blessings of the miserable. Such pleasures 
 are durable, and may be tasted with unsated 
 relish after a settled lassitude from the indul- 
 gence of all others." 
 
 These observations deserve the serious con- 
 sideration of the rich. What greater happi- 
 ness can a man have than that of rewarding 
 merit, relieving distress, wiping away the tears 
 from the eyes of the afflicted, and pouring 
 oil and wine into the wounds of the injured ? 
 He who spends his life in this way will surely 
 come to the conclusion that the noblest em- 
 ployment of man is to assist man.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MEANS OF ACQUIRING AND PRESERVING 
 HEALTH. 
 
 Thousands of men and women die every 
 year prematurely, because they do not know 
 how to take care of their bodies. They are 
 killed for the want of a little knowledge which 
 could easily be supplied. 
 
 It has been said that health " is that con- 
 dition in which the body performs all its 
 functions easily, and thereby imparts to the 
 whole man a consciousness of strength and 
 an enjoyment of life : where the sensation is 
 so keen that little pleasures are relished, and 
 the endurance is so strong that little pains 
 are despised. Health intensifies the pleasure 
 of food, and drink and sleep ; it makes sights 
 and sounds more interesting and more enjoy- 
 able ; it sweetens the temper and it makes 
 the mind more calm, judicious, and fertile. 
 Then labor is welcomed as a delightful exer- 
 cise, and life is felt to be an inexpressible 
 blessing." 
 
 57
 
 58 Bcqufring an& preserving Tbealtb. 
 
 The wisest men of all ages and countries 
 have paid great attention to the preservation 
 of health. Cicero, for instance, says : " Health 
 is preserved by a knowledge of one's own 
 constitution ; and by observing what things 
 do us good or harm ; and by moderation in 
 all food and manner of living, for the sake of 
 preserving the body ; and by self-denial in 
 pleasures ; and last of all, by the skill of those 
 to whose profession these things belong." 
 His practice corresponded with his views. 
 He lived in a frugal manner. He rarely took 
 his meal before sunset a rule which he 
 thought suitable to the weakness of his 
 stomach. 
 
 He is said to have had stated hours for 
 rubbing and walking. By this systematic 
 care of his health he acquired sufficient 
 strength for the great labors and fatigues 
 which he had to undergo. That good health 
 is essential to happiness there can be no 
 doubt. Some one has said that of the one 
 hundred sublunary blessings bestowed on 
 'mankind, Health is ninety-nine. When a 
 man gets sick he should send for a physician 
 at once, that is, if his disorder is of a serious 
 nature. As Lord Bacon wisely says : " De- 
 spise no new accident in your body but ask 
 opinion of it." No advice will obviate the
 
 acquiring anD preserving "fcealtb. 59 
 
 necessity of medical attendance, but disease 
 may be lessened by the observance of a few 
 simple rules. 
 
 Temperance, air, exercise, gayety, and the 
 absence of care are undoubtedly highly con- 
 ducive to health. It seems that our Creator 
 has ordained that the emotions which disturb 
 our days are those which have a natural ten- 
 dency to shorten them. 
 
 The inexperiences of youth, which are 
 usually the result of ignorance, are punished 
 with great severity. The young prodigally 
 waste the material of life and enjoyment, as 
 they do their other possessions, as if they 
 thought it inexhaustible. 
 
 The vices of mature age succeed the errors 
 of youth. Envy, ambition, cupidity, hatred, 
 and the other passions which inhabit the hu- 
 man breast, unless they are kept in subjection, 
 concur to devour the very aliment of life. 
 The storms which prostrate the moral facul- 
 ties, equally sap the physical energies. De- 
 basing passions are extremely injurious to 
 health. Those inquietudes and puerile anxie- 
 ties, which disturb the days of the greater 
 portion of mankind, can be traced to no other 
 source. They are agitated by vain debates, 
 and occupied by trifling interests. 
 
 Emotions which are pleasant sustain life,
 
 60 acquiring an& preeervfng 'foealtb. 
 
 and produce upon it the effect of a gentle 
 current of air upon flame. 
 
 A distinguished physician recorded his be- 
 lief, in his tablets, that three-fourths of the 
 people who die, die of vexation or grief. 
 
 Lord Bacon says : " As for the passions 
 and studies of the mind, avoid envy, anxious 
 fears, anger, fretting inwards, subtle and 
 knotty inquisitions, joys and exhilarations 
 in excess, sadness not communicated. En- 
 tertain hopes, mirth rather than joy ; variety 
 of delights, rather than surfeit of them ; won- 
 der and admiration, and therefore novelties ; 
 studies that fill the mind with splendid and 
 illustrious objects, as histories, fables, and 
 contemplations of nature." 
 
 Huffland, in his work on the art of pro- 
 longing life, says : " Philosophers enjoy a 
 delightful leisure. Their thoughts, gener- 
 ally estranged from vulgar interests, have 
 nothing in common with those afflicting 
 ideas, with which other men are continually 
 agitated and corroded. Their reflections 
 are agreeable by their variety, their vague 
 liberty, and sometimes even by their frivol- 
 ity. Devoted to the pursuits of their choice, 
 the occupations of their taste, they dispose 
 freely of their time. Oftentimes they sur- 
 round themselves with young people, that
 
 Bcciuirnui and preserving t>caltb. 61 
 
 their natural vivacity may be communicated 
 to them, and in some sort produce a renewal 
 of their youth." We may make a distinc- 
 tion between the different kinds of philoso- 
 phy, in relation to their influence upon the 
 duration of life. Those which direct the 
 mind towards sublime contemplations, even 
 were they in some degree superstitious, such 
 as those of Pythagoras and Plato, are the 
 most salutary. Next to them I place those, 
 the study of which, embracing nature, gives 
 enlarged and elevated ideas upon infinity, 
 the stars, the wonders of the universe, the 
 heroic virtues, and other similar subjects. 
 Such were those of Democritus, Philolaus, 
 Xenophanes, the Stoics, and the ancient 
 astronomers. 
 
 I may cite next those less profound 
 thinkers, who, instead of exacting difficult 
 researches, seemed destined only to amuse 
 the mind ; the followers of which philosophy, 
 deviating wide from vulgar opinion, peace- 
 fully sustain the arguments for and against 
 the propositions advanced. Such was the 
 philosophy of Carneades and the Academi- 
 cians, to whom we may add the Grammarians 
 and Rhetoricians. 
 
 Corroding cares and tumultuous passions 
 are two sources of evil influences which
 
 62 acquiring anD preserving Ibealtb. 
 
 philosophy avoids. Another influence ad- 
 verse to life, is that mental feebleness which 
 renders persons perpetually solicitous about 
 their health, effeminate and unhappy. This 
 trait is well displayed in the character of 
 " Well-and-Strong," in the popular play, A 
 Trip to Chinatown. By imagining ourselves 
 sick, we often become so. It is said that the 
 best prophylactic for preserving health, is 
 the undoubting confidence that we shall not 
 be sick. 
 
 Too much attention cannot be paid to the 
 action of the mind upon the body. Although 
 physicians have of late years given it con- 
 siderable attention, many ancient authorities 
 think that they have not made it a sufficient 
 element in their calculations, or employed it 
 as they should. As has been said : "A man 
 reads a letter which announces misfortunes 
 or sinister events. His head turns. His 
 appetite ceases. He becomes faint and op- 
 pressed ; and his life is in danger. No 
 contagion, however, no physical blow has 
 touched him. A thought has palsied his 
 forces in a moment ; and has successively de- 
 ranged every spring of life. We have read 
 of persons of feeble and uninfofmed mind, 
 who have fallen sick in consequence of the 
 cruel sport of those who have ingeniously
 
 acquiring and preserving 1>caltb. 63 
 
 alarmed their imagination, and cautiously 
 indicated to them a train of fatal symptoms. 
 Since imagination can thus certainly over- 
 turn our physical powers, why may it not 
 under certain regulations restore them ? " 
 
 Shakespeare; that wonderful observer, un- 
 derstood perfectly well how some mental 
 dispositions influenced health favorably, and 
 how others influenced it unfavorably, and 
 his words should be carefully weighed : 
 
 " He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy ; 
 And so she died ; had she been light, like you, 
 Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, 
 She might have been a grandam ere she died : 
 And so may you ; for a light heart lives long." 
 Lore's Labour 's Lost, \. 2. 
 
 Pecklin, Barthes, and many others think 
 that extreme desire to see a dearly beloved 
 person once more has sometimes a power to 
 postpone death. The idea is a highly de- 
 lightful one, and is complimentary to human 
 nature. Says a charming writer : " I feel 
 with what intense ardor one might desire to 
 live another day, another hour, to see a friend 
 or a child for the last time. The flame of 
 love replacing that of life, blazes up for a 
 moment before both are quenched in the 
 final darkness. The last prayer is accorded ;
 
 64 acquiring an& preserving 1>ealtb. 
 
 and life terminates in tasting that pleasure 
 for which it was prolonged. If this be true, 
 the principle on which the most touching 
 incident of romance is founded is not a 
 fiction." 
 
 The food we eat should be simple, and we 
 should be careful not to eat too much. If 
 we get sick we may often starve ourselves 
 well again. 
 
 Quarles says : " If thou wouldst preserve a 
 sound body, use fasting and walking ; if a 
 healthful soul, fasting and praying. Walking 
 exercises the body ; praying exercises the 
 soul ; fasting cleanses both." 
 
 Another writer observes that : " We should 
 assist, not force nature. Eat with modera- 
 tion what you know agrees with your consti- 
 tution. Nothing is good for the body but 
 what we can digest. What can procure 
 digestion ? Exercise. What will recruit 
 strength? Sleep. What will alleviate in- 
 curable evils? Patience." 
 
 Lord Bacon says : " I commend rather 
 some diet for certain seasons than frequent 
 use of physic, except it can be grown into a 
 custom ; for those diets alter the body more 
 and trouble it less. ... In sickness, re- 
 spect health principally ; and health action ; 
 for those that put their bodies to endure in
 
 acquiring and preserving f>ealtb. 65 
 
 health, may in most sicknesses which are not 
 very sharp, be cured only with diet and 
 tendering. Celsus would never have spoken 
 it as a physician, had he not been a wise man 
 withal, when he giveth it for one of the great 
 precepts of health and lasting, that a man do 
 vary and interchange contraries ; but with 
 an inclination to the more benign extreme ; 
 use fasting and full eating, but rather full 
 eating ; watching and sleep, but rather sleep ; 
 sitting and exercise, but rather exercise, and 
 the like ; so shall nature be cherished and 
 yet taught masteries." 
 
 A careful study of this advice of Lord 
 Bacon will be highly advantageous to any 
 one desirous of prolonging his life, and of 
 enjoying comparative immunity from 
 disease. 
 
 The growth and vigorous condition of 
 every member of the body depends on exer- 
 cise. Many diseases are cured by exercise. 
 The Germans, especially, have of late given 
 great attention to medical gymnastics. Lord 
 Bacon, also, recognized the curative proper- 
 ties of particular exercises for particular 
 diseases. He says upon this subject : 
 " Diseases of the body may have appropriate 
 exercises ; bowling is good for the stone and 
 reins ; shooting for the lungs and breast ;
 
 66 acquiring anO preserving Ibealtb. 
 
 gentle walking for the stomach : riding for 
 the head, and the like." 
 
 The author is inclined to believe that 
 people who lead sedentary lives sit too much. 
 This is especially true of persons engaged in 
 literary pursuits. Many of the greatest 
 writers did their work standing at a desk. 
 Longfellow and Vicor Hugo, always wrote 
 in this way. 
 
 It is an excellent plan, also, to read while 
 walking up and down the room, and much 
 more can be learned in this way than sitting 
 sleepily in a chair. But when a man does 
 sit, he should, at all events, sit erect with his 
 back to the light, and a full and free projec- 
 tion of the breast. 
 
 It should also be borne in mind by the 
 reader that while sitting on a chair, leaning 
 over a desk, poring over a book, the blood 
 does not flow, and the muscles do not play 
 freely, and that these results can only be ob- 
 tained by outdoor exercise. He should, 
 therefore, if his circumstances will permit 
 him to do so, make a sacred resolution that 
 he will spend at least two hours in the open 
 air every day either walking or riding. It 
 would be prudent to divide his walks into two 
 periods, giving to them one hour in the 
 morning and another in the evening. He is
 
 acquiring and preserving tealtb. 67 
 
 strengthened for the work of the day by the 
 one, and the other refreshes him after his 
 labors. 
 
 The morning walk should be taken early 
 in the day. In the winter he should await 
 the rising of the sun. A writer of considera- 
 ble merit says that, " the evening walk 
 should always be taken as nearly as possible 
 at sunset, not only as being the most beauti- 
 ful time, the most calming and subduing, the 
 most wholesome in its influences upon mind 
 and body, but as being usually the most 
 favorable as respects the weather ; it being a 
 fact not noticed in the books, but confirmed 
 by the experience of the writer, that, how- 
 ever wet the day, there is usually a cessation 
 of rain at sunset, insomuch that in -nearly 
 twenty years of walks rarely omitted at the 
 hour of sunset, he believes he has not twenty 
 times encountered rain." 
 
 Not only should a man determine how 
 much time he will dedicate each day to ex- 
 ercise, but he should appoint, as has been 
 said, the very time. The same hour should 
 find him engaged in the same pursuit, whether 
 of labor, of exercise, or of rest. 
 
 In fact, every moment should, if possible, 
 be turned to advantage. Study should be 
 united with recreation, we should work till
 
 68 Bcquirfng an& preserving Dealtb. 
 
 the time for recreation begins, and return to 
 work the instant it is over. The majority of 
 people fall into one of two extremes of error 
 either passing their lives in worthless idle- 
 ness, or destroying health and life by over- 
 work. Every moment then should be dedicated 
 to a purpose, either of study, rest, or recrea- 
 tion. 
 
 This is the secret of accomplishing a vast 
 amount of work, and by it we double our 
 lives. We should, therefore, work when we 
 are at work, play when we are at play, and 
 rest when we rest, or as Chancellor Thurlow 
 said, " the whole man should be devoted to 
 one thing at one time." Let not a minute 
 pass unemployed. Exercise should be com- 
 bined with temperance. " Temperance is a 
 bridle of gold, and he that uses it aright is 
 liker a God than a man; for as it will trans- 
 form a beast to a man again, so it will make 
 a man more nearly a God," says Burton. " If 
 thou well observe the rule of not too much, 
 by temperance taught, in what thou eatest 
 and drinkest, seeking from thence due nour- 
 ishment, not gluttonous delight, till many 
 years over thy head return, so mayest thou 
 live, till, like ripe fruit, thou drop into thy 
 mother's lap, or be with ease gathered, not 
 harshly plucked, in death mature," observes
 
 acquiring an& preserving t>ealtb. 69 
 
 Milton. The foregoing observations upon 
 the" means of prolonging the age of man 
 should be carefully read. " It is natural for 
 man to express a desire to live to old age, 
 since nature by no means forbids him to wish 
 for longevity ; and old age is, in fact, that 
 period of life in which prudence can be best 
 exercised and the fruits of all the other 
 virtues enjoyed with a less degree of opposi- 
 tion, for the passions are then so completely 
 subdued that man gives himself up entirely 
 to the dictates of reason." 
 
 The heavy trains of infirmities which fre- 
 quently make inroads on the constitution^ 
 are the general motives, with most people, 
 for renouncing a life of intemperance, and 
 adopting a regimen of a more abstemious 
 nature. Finding their constitutions impaired 
 through their intemperate manner of living, 
 and being fearful of consumptive conse- 
 quences, they apply to a physician ; he tries 
 the power of medicine, and advises temper- 
 ance, but, perceiving that his efforts are un- 
 availing, and suspecting that his advice has 
 not been fully attended to, he at length tells 
 his patient that there is but one method left 
 for him to pursue, which will be likely to 
 overcome the disorder he labors under. This 
 is a sober, moderate, and regular course of
 
 70 acquiring an> preserving fbealtb. 
 
 life, which would be of more service, do more 
 good, and be as powerful in restoring the 
 constitution, as the intemperate and irregu- 
 lar one he had accustomed himself to had 
 been in reducing him to his present low con- 
 dition. In fact, a regular course of life pre- 
 serves men, whose constitutions are not good, 
 and who are advanced in years, just as a con- 
 trary course has the power of destroying those 
 of the best constitution, and in their prime ; 
 and for this plain and obvious reason, that 
 different modes of life are attended with 
 different effects ; for art follows, even in this 
 case, the footsteps of nature, and with equal 
 efficacy corrects natural vices and imperfec- 
 tions. This is obvious in those who follow 
 the life of a husbandman. Without having 
 recourse to such a regimen in the beginning 
 of a consumption, no benefit could arise from 
 it after a few months' delay, and after a few 
 more the patient must resign himself to the 
 arms of Death. 
 
 The celebrated Cornaro informs us, that 
 he was in a similar situation, but that the 
 solid and convincing arguments used by his 
 physicians made such an impression on him, 
 that, mortified as he was by the thoughts of 
 dying in the prime of life, and at the same 
 time perpetually tormented by various
 
 acquiring an> preserving 1>ealtb. 71 
 
 diseases, he immediately concluded that 
 contrary effects could not be produced but 
 by contrary modes of living, and therefore 
 he resolved, in order to avoid at once both 
 disease and death, to adopt it, and betook 
 himself to a regular course of life. The con- 
 sequence of which was, that in a few days he 
 began to perceive that such a regular course 
 agreed with him very well ; and by pursuing 
 it he found, that in less than twelve months 
 he was completely freed from the whole of 
 his complaints. 
 
 Having thus regained his health, this pru- 
 dent person began seriously to consider the 
 utility and power of temperance, and re- 
 flected, very justly, that if this virtue (a 
 temperate mode of living) had efficacy suffi- 
 cient to subdue such grievous disorders as he 
 was afflicted with, it must possess still greater 
 power to preserve the body in health, to assist 
 and recover a bad constitution, and render 
 comfort to those whose stomachs are weak. 
 " This temperate method," Cornaro says, 
 " had likewise this good effect on me, that I no 
 longer experienced those annual fits of sick- 
 ness with which I used to be afflicted while I 
 followed a different, that is, a sensual course 
 of life ; for then I used to be attacked every 
 year with a strange kind of fever, which
 
 72 Bcquirtng and preserving Ibealtb. 
 
 sometimes brought me to death's door. From 
 this disease then I also freed myself, and be- 
 came exceedingly healthy, as I have con- 
 tinued from that time forward to this very 
 day." 
 
 When Cornaro began to adopt this course 
 of regimen and temperance he was between 
 forty and fifty years of age, and at the time 
 when he wrote this account he was upwards 
 of eighty. 
 
 As the author has said, it is also proper 
 that a man should endeavor to avoid those 
 evils which it may not be in his power easily 
 to remove ; these are melancholy, hatred, 
 fear, discontent, and care, which, as Dr. Arm- 
 strong says, in words which should be care- 
 fully weighed : 
 
 " Fatigue the soul, 
 Engross the subtile ministers of life, 
 And spoil the lab'ring functions of their share. 
 Hence the lean gloom that Melancholy wears ; 
 The Lover's paleness, and the sallow hue 
 Of Envy, Jealousy ; the meagre stare 
 Of sore Revenge ; the canker'd body hence 
 Betrays each fretful motion of the mind. 
 Hence some for Love, and some for Jealousy, 
 For grim Religion some, and some for Pride, 
 Have lost their reason ; some for fear of want, 
 Want all their lives ; and others every day
 
 acquiring and preserving "fcealtb. 73 
 
 For fear of dying suffer worse than death. 
 Ah ! from your bosoms vanish, if you can, 
 Those fatal guests ; and first the demon Fear, 
 That trembles at impossible events, 
 Lest aged Atlas should resign his load, 
 And Heav'n's eternal battlements rush down." 
 
 These and other violent passions have the 
 greatest influence, at times, over the minds 
 of men ; and even Cornaro himself tells us 
 that he was not able to guard so well against 
 either one or the other of such disorders, so 
 as to prevent himself from being occasion- 
 ally hurried away by many, not to say all of 
 them, but comforts himself with the idea 
 that, by his temperate mode of living, they 
 did very little harm to him. But Dr. Arm- 
 strong also says that passions like these, 
 where they obtain the mastery, often destroy 
 the mind : 
 
 " And when the mind 
 They first invade, the conscious body soon 
 In sympathetic languishment declines. 
 These chronic Passions, while from real woes 
 They rise and yet without the body's fault 
 Infest the soul, admit one only cure ; 
 Diversion, hurry, and a restless life. 
 Go, soft enthusiast ! seek the cheerful haunts 
 Of men, and mingle with the bustling crowd ;
 
 74 acquiring an> preserving Ibealtb. 
 
 Lay schemes for wealth, or power, or fame, the 
 
 wish 
 Of nobler minds, and push them night and day." 
 
 Such are Dr. Armstrong's able reasonings 
 on the passions incidental to humanity, and 
 the advice he gives for counteracting them is 
 of great value, since it appears most likely 
 to have the desired effect. When a man is 
 overwhelmed with sorrow, or burdened with 
 care, he should avoid solitude as he would a 
 pestilence. He should seek the society of 
 his fellow-men. He will find great relief in 
 freely communicating his troubles to his 
 friends when he can obtain relief in no other 
 way. The sage Pythagoras said : " Eat not 
 the heart," and Lord Bacon, in commenting 
 upon the expression, says : " Certainly, if a 
 man would give it a hard phrase, those that 
 want friends to open themselves unto, are 
 cannibals of their own hearts ; but one thing 
 is most admirable, which is, that this com- 
 municating of a man's self to his friend, 
 works two contrary effects, for it redoubleth 
 joys, and cutteth grief in halfs ; for there is 
 no man that imparteth his joys to his friend, 
 but he joyeth the more ; and no man that 
 imparteth his grief to his friend, but he 
 grieveth the less."
 
 acquiring an> preserving t>ealtb. 75 
 
 Vocal or instrumental music, if it is good, 
 and labor, or bodily exercise of any kind, are 
 also excellent antidotes for sorrow. 
 
 After the separation of the Empress Jose- 
 phine from Napoleon she was almost dis- 
 tracted with grief, and the only remedy which 
 was found effective, in the alleviation of her 
 sorrow, was a long walk, every day, with her 
 female companions. She walked till she was 
 almost exhausted, and by tiring her body 
 rested her mind. 
 
 Temperance and orderly living, then, are 
 the foundations of health and long life. 
 
 Physicians of eminence say, that if a man 
 will follow a regular course of life, eat mod- 
 erately, drink sparingly, always leave room 
 for more, and digest regularly, it would pre- 
 serve his body in health, and be the means 
 of prolonging his life for years, and when at 
 last he found his end approaching, he would 
 leave the world without experiencing any 
 material sickness, but from a dissolution of 
 the radical moisture, when nature would be 
 quite exhausted. 
 
 The celebrated Cornaro tells us, " that 
 whoever leads a regular life cannot be dis- 
 eased, or, at least, seldom, and that for a 
 short time ; because, by living regularly, he 
 extirpates every seed of sickness, and thus
 
 76 ficqutrfng anb fcreservtncj Ibealtb. 
 
 by removing the cause, prevents the effect ; 
 so that he who pursues a regular course of 
 life need not be apprehensive of illness ; for 
 he who has guarded against the cause need 
 not be afraid of the effect." 
 
 The following extract from the same ex- 
 perienced author is also worthy of insertion : 
 " Although I am sensible, like others, that I 
 must reach that term (the period of dissolu- 
 tion), it is yet so great a distance that I can- 
 not discern it, 1 because I know I shall not 
 die except by a mere decay of nature, hav- 
 ing already, by my regular course of life, 
 shut up all the other avenues of death, and 
 thereby prevented the humors of my body 
 from making any other war upon me than 
 that which I must expect from the elements 
 employed in the composition of this mortal 
 frame. I am not so simple as not to know, 
 that, as I was born, so I must die; but that 
 is a desirable death which nature brings on 
 us by way of dissolution ; for Nature having, 
 herself formed the union between our body 
 and our soul, knows best in what manner it 
 may be most easily dissolved, and grants us 
 a longer day than we could expect from sick- 
 ness, which is violent. This is the death, 
 
 1 When Cornaro wrote this he was, as has been said, be- 
 tween eighty and ninety years of age.
 
 acquiring and preserving fxraltb. 77 
 
 which, without speaking like a poet, I may 
 call, not death but life. Xor can it be other- 
 wise. Such a death does not take one till 
 after a very long course of years, and in con- 
 sequence of an extreme weakness ; it being 
 only by slow degrees, that men grow too 
 feeble to walk, and unable to reason, becom- 
 ing blind and deaf, decrepid, and full of 
 every other kind of infirmity. Now I may 
 be quite sure that I am at a very great dis- 
 tance from such a period. Nay, I have 
 reason to think, that my soul, having so 
 agreeable a dwelling in my body, as not to 
 meet with anything in it but peace, love, and 
 harmony, not only between its humors, but 
 between my reason and the senses, is ex- 
 ceedingly content and well pleased with her 
 present situation, and, of course, that a great 
 length of time, and many years, must be 
 requisite to dislodge her ; whence it must be 
 concluded for certain, that I have still a 
 series of years to live in health and spirits, 
 and enjoy this beautiful world, which is 
 indeed beautiful to those who know how to 
 make it so, as I have done, and likewise ex- 
 pect to be able to do, with God's assistance, 
 in the next ; all by the means of virtue, and 
 that divine regularity of life which I have 
 adopted, concluding an alliance with my rea-
 
 78 acquiring anD preserving Ibealtb. 
 
 son, and declaring war against my sensual 
 appetites, a thing which every man may do 
 who desires to live as he ought. 
 
 " Now, if this sober life be so happy ; if its 
 name be so desirable and delightful ; if the 
 possession of the blessings which attend it be 
 so stable and permanent ; all I have still left 
 to do is to beseech (since I cannot compass 
 my desires by the powers of oratory) every 
 man of liberal disposition and sound under- 
 standing to embrace with open arms this 
 most valuable treasure of a long and healthy 
 life ; a treasure which, as it exceeds all other 
 riches and blessings of this world, so it de- 
 serves above all things to be cherished, 
 sought after, and carefully preserved. This 
 is that divine sobriety (agreeable to the 
 Deity), the friend of nature, the daughter of 
 reason, the sister of all the virtues, the com- 
 panion of temperance, modest, courteous, 
 content with little, regular, and perfect mis- 
 tress of all her operations. From her, as 
 from their, proper root, spring life, health, 
 cheerfulness, industry, learning, and all those 
 actions and employments worthy of noble 
 and generous minds. The laws of God and 
 man are all in her favor. Repletion, ex- 
 cess, intemperance, superfluous humors, dis- 
 eases, fevers, pains, and the dangers of death
 
 acquiring an& preserving 1>ealtb. 79 
 
 vanish in her presence like clouds before the 
 sun. Her comeliness ravishes every well-dis- 
 posed mind. Her influence is so sure, as to 
 promise to all a very long and agreeable 
 existence: the facility of acquiring her is 
 such as ought to induce everyone to look for 
 her, and share in her victories. And, lastly, 
 she promises to be a mild and agreeable 
 guardian of life, as well of the rich as of the 
 poor ; of the male as of the female sex ; of 
 the old as well as of the young ; being that 
 which teaches the rich modesty ; the poor 
 frugality ; . . . the old how to ward off 
 the attacks of death ; and bestows on youth 
 firmer and surer hopes of life. Sobriety 
 renders the senses clear, the body light, the 
 understanding lively, the soul brisk, the 
 memory tenacious, our motions free, and all 
 our actions regular and easy. By means of 
 sobriety the soul, delivered, as it were, of 
 her earthly burden, experiences a great deal 
 of her natural liberty ; the spirits circulate 
 gently through the arteries ; the blood runs 
 freely through the veins ; the heat of the 
 body, kept mild and temperate, has mild and 
 temperate effects ; and, lastly, our faculties, 
 being under a perfect regulation, preserve a 
 pleasing and agreeable harmony." 
 
 It will readily be seen, from what has
 
 8o acquiring anD preserving Ibealtb. 
 
 been said, that temperance is the universal 
 medicine of life, that clears the head and 
 cleanses the blood, strengthens the nerves, 
 perfects digestion, gives nature her full play, 
 and enables her to exert herself in all her 
 force and vigor. 
 
 The cheerful and contented are unques- 
 tionably more likely to enjoy good health 
 and long life than persons of irritable 
 and fretful dispositions ; therefore, whatever 
 tends to promote good humor and innocent 
 hilarity, must have a beneficial influence in 
 this respect ; and persons whose attention is 
 much engaged on serious subjects, should 
 continually endeavor to preserve a relish for 
 cheerful recreations. 
 
 We meet with many most remarkable in- 
 stances of longevity in the history of various 
 countries and of all ages. If temperance is 
 observed, it seems that long life may b'e at- 
 tained in any country. The hot climate of 
 South America, as well as the intense cold 
 of Russia, are no bars to the attainment of 
 old age. It is certain, however, that temper- 
 ate climates are more favorable to long life 
 than those which are very hot or very cold. 
 
 But in almost every country there are par- 
 ticular districts which are more favorable to
 
 acquiring and preserving f>ealtb. 81 
 
 the health of the inhabitants than others. 
 The cause of this superiority is chiefly owing 
 to a free circulation of the air uncontami- 
 nated by the noxious vapors and exhalations 
 arising from marshes or stagnant pools, 
 which destroy the purity in other parts. Of 
 this our best physicians are fully sensible, 
 and they consequently recommend that hilly 
 or mountainous places, which are almost 
 universally found to be the most healthy, be 
 chosen for districts of residence. 
 
 The invigorating employments and plain 
 diet of a country life are acknowledged by all 
 who have given the subject attention to be 
 highly conducive to health and longevity, 
 while the luxury aad refinement of large 
 cities are allowed to be equally destructive 
 to man. 
 
 It is said that the Arabs of the desert have 
 for centuries enjoyed almost perfect immu- 
 nity from disease, and that an Arab rarely 
 dies except from violence or old age. 
 
 The desire of self-preservation and of pro- 
 tracting the short span of life is so intimately 
 interwoven with our very constitution, that 
 it is properly esteemed one of the first prin- 
 ciples of our nature, and, in spite of pain 
 and misery, seldom quits us to the last mo-
 
 82 Bcquiring anfc preserving Tbealtb. 
 
 ments of our existence. Is it not rather sur- 
 prising, then, that more attention has not 
 been paid to longevity ? 
 
 It is a subject which should be carefully 
 investigated. Bills of mortality should be 
 put on a more extensive and useful footing ; 
 they should contain a particular account of 
 the diet and regimen of every person who 
 dies at the age of ninety years or upwards ; 
 whether the parents were healthy, long-lived 
 people, etc. A register of these circum- 
 stances in every county, city, and town 
 throughout the United States would be pro- 
 ductive of many advantages to society in a 
 medical, philosophical, and political view. 
 
 Longevity is so highly esteemed in China 
 that, it is said, triumphal or honorary arches 
 are erected to the memory of persons who 
 have lived a century ; for the Chinese be- 
 lieve that except a man live a sober and vir- 
 tuous life, it is impossible he should attain 
 to such an age. 
 
 Notwithstanding the assertion to the con- 
 trary, which is sometimes made, temperance 
 is undoubtedly the best security of health 
 and no man can reasonably expect to live 
 long who impairs his vital powers by excess, 
 which converts the most natural and bene- 
 ficial enjoyments into the most certain means
 
 acquiring and preserving t>ealtb. s 3 
 
 of destruction. The remarkably few in- 
 stances of persons with constitutions of iron, 
 who, in spite of their licentious mode of liv- 
 ing, have attained great age, cannot be put 
 in comparison with the vast number whose 
 lives have been greatly shortened by such 
 indulgences. 
 
 Some writers on longevity say that moder- 
 ate-sized and well-proportioned persons have 
 certainly tile greater probability of attaining 
 to a considerable length of life ; this may 
 seem reasonable, but there are some instances 
 to the contrary : Mary Jones, who died in 
 1773, at Wem, in Shropshire, at the age of 
 one hundred years, was only two feet eight 
 incJus in height, very deformed and lame; 
 but James MacDonald, who died near Cork, 
 in Ireland, August 20, 1760, at the age of one 
 hundred and seventeen, was seven feet six 
 incJus in stature. 
 
 Since the flood, the duration of man's life 
 has been nearly the same in all ages. This is 
 clearly shown from sacred and profane his- 
 tory : Plato lived to eighty-one, and was 
 thought an old man, and the instances of 
 longevity adduced by Pliny may be most of 
 them matched in modern times. 
 
 To cite two or three modern instances in 
 support of Cornaro's theory, that temperance
 
 84 acquiring an& preserving Tbealtb. 
 
 in all things is the chief promoter of longev- 
 ity, the author would refer to Prince Bis- 
 marck, Hon. W. E. Gladstone, and Hon. 
 Justin S. Morrill of Vermont, all of whom 
 are octogenarians. 
 
 Bismarck attributes his long life to temper- 
 ance in everything ; daily exercise in the 
 open air ; regularity in his hours of sleep, in 
 his diet, and in all his personal habits. He 
 lives much in the open air, and his favorite 
 exercise is horseback riding, in which he 
 freely indulges. He believes that cold water 
 is one of the best of tonics, and he takes a 
 cold bath every morning on rising from bed. 
 The great Ex-Chancellor also has the power 
 of banishing, at will, from his mind all the 
 cares and troubles of life. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone is also a believer in the vir- 
 tues of cold bathing, and he takes a bath on 
 rising every morning. He rises at 6 o'clock, 
 and breakfasts at 7. His breakfast is a light 
 one, and when it is finished he goes to church 
 every day for morning prayer. Walking and 
 chopping wood are Mr. Gladstone's favorite 
 forms of exercise. 
 
 Senator Morrill, who is more than 85 years 
 of age, believes that temperance is the great- 
 est promoter of longevity. To temperance 
 he would also add cheerfulness, and the prac-
 
 acquiring and preserving txaltb. 8$ 
 
 tice of trying to render those around him 
 happy. 
 
 All of the great men mentioned have led 
 industrious lives. Each day, nay each hour 
 of every day, has had its appropriate employ- 
 ment.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 LIVES OF CENTENARIANS. 
 
 The lives of nearly all of the aged persons 
 which have been written, and transmitted to 
 us, prove conclusively that a life of temper- 
 ance, and freedom from care, prolongs exist- 
 ence. 
 
 The following sketches of the lives of the 
 remarkable people who have lived more than 
 one hundred years, will serve as examples of 
 the vast number from which they are taken. 
 The cases of men like Cornaro, the Venetian, 
 who was born dying, and yet spun out the 
 thread of life with so much care that he lived 
 a century, are instructive. Their opinions 
 upon the subject of diet, as well as their hab- 
 its of life, are worthy of careful consideration. 
 Lord Bacon cites the case of Cornaro, and 
 jests upon a man who believed himself living, 
 because, in fact, he was not dead, but Lord 
 Bacon was convinced of the usefulness to 
 mankind of the habits and manners of people 
 86
 
 lives of Centenarians. :; 
 
 who lived to a ripe old age, and he wrote the 
 history of many of them himself. 
 
 The most distinguished instance of longev- 
 ity to be met with in British history is that 
 of Thomas Cam, who, according to the parish 
 register of St. Leonard, Shoreditch, died on 
 the 28th day of January, 1588, at the aston- 
 ishing age of two hundred and seven years. 
 
 He was born in the reign of Richard the 
 Second, 1 381, and lived in the reigns of twelve 
 kings and queens, namely, Richard II., Henry 
 IV., V. and VI., Edward IV. and V., Richard 
 III., Henry VII. and VIII., Edward VI., 
 Mary, and Elizabeth. The veracity of the 
 above may, it is said, be readily observed by 
 any person who wishes to consult the above- 
 mentioned register. 
 
 In the Russian Petersburg Gazette, pub- 
 lished in 1812, the phenomenon is recorded 
 of one old man in the diocese of Ekaterino- 
 slaw, of having attained the age of two hun- 
 dred and five years. 
 
 Peter Czartan, by religion a Greek, was 
 born in the year 1539, and lived one hundred 
 and eighty-four years, dying on the 5th of 
 January, 1723, at Rofrosh. When the Turks 
 took Temeswaer from the Christians, he was 
 employed in keeping his father's cattle. A 
 few days before his death, he had walked,
 
 88 TLlvee of Centenarians. 
 
 supported by a stick, to the post-house at 
 Rofrosh, to ask alms from the passengers. 
 It is said that his eyes were exceedingly red, 
 but he still enjoyed a little sight ; the hair of 
 his head and beard were greenish white, and 
 some of his teeth were still remaining. His 
 son, who was ninety-seven, declared that his 
 father had formerly been a head taller ; that 
 he married at a great age for the third time ; 
 and that he himself was born in this marriage. 
 
 He was accustomed, according to the prin- 
 ciples of his religion, to observe the fast days 
 with great strictness, to use no other food 
 than milk, a kind of cakes called by the 
 Hungarians kollatschen, and to drink of the 
 brandy made in the country. 
 
 The above account is said to have been 
 extracted from a letter written to the States- 
 General of the United Netherlands, by their 
 Envoy, Hamelbraning, at Vienna, and dated 
 January 29, 1724. 
 
 Henry Jenkins died at Ellerton-upon- 
 Swale, December 8, 1670, at the age of one 
 hundred and sixty-nine, and was buried in 
 Bolton Churchyard, near Catterick and Rich- 
 mond in Yorkshire, where a small pillar was 
 erected in the church to his memory, on 
 which is inscribed the following -epitaph, 
 composed by Dr. Thomas Chapman, master
 
 lives of Centenarians. 8 9 
 
 of Magdalen College, Cambridge, from 1746 
 to 1760: 
 
 ' ' Blush not, Marble, 
 
 to rescue from oblivion 
 
 the memory of Henry Jenkins ; 
 
 a person obscure in birth, 
 but of a life truly remarkable ; 
 
 for 
 he was enriched with the goods of Nature, 
 
 if not of Fortune ; 
 
 and happy in the duration, 
 
 if not the variety, of his enjoyments ; 
 
 and though the partial world despised and 
 
 disregarded his low and humble state, 
 
 the equal eye of Providence beheld 
 
 and blessed it 
 
 with a Patriarch's health 
 
 and length of days ; 
 
 to teach mistaken man 
 
 these blessings are entailed on 
 
 temperance, 
 
 a life of labor, and a mind at ease. 
 He lived to the amazing age of 169." 
 
 Jonathan Hartop, of the village of Aid- 
 borough, in Yorkshire, died in 1791, aged 
 one hundred and thirty-eight. He could 
 read to the last without spectacles, and play 
 at cribbage with the most perfect recollec- 
 tion. On Christmas day, 1789, he walked 
 nine miles to dine with one of his great-grand- 
 children. 
 
 He ate but little, and his only beverage 
 was milk,
 
 go Xlves of Centenarians. 
 
 He enjoyed an uninterrupted flow of 
 spirits. 
 
 He knew Milton well, and is said to have 
 loaned him ^300 which Milton paid, although 
 Mr. Hartop would have declined to re- 
 ceive it. 
 
 John Wood died in June, 1818, at the age 
 of one hundred and twenty-two. He was 
 an industrious farmer at Gortnagally, near 
 Dungannon, in Ireland. 
 
 He lived a regular and sober life, and was 
 remarkably abstemious with regard to his 
 food. 
 
 Thomas Gaughhan died August 16, 1814, 
 in the county of Mayo, Ireland, at the age of 
 one hundred and twelve. * 
 
 Though poor, he was always cheerful and 
 contented. 
 
 He passed one hundred and ten years of 
 his life wholly unacquainted with sickness, 
 up to the end of which period he was able 
 to take a full share with all the young mem- 
 bers of his family in the labors of the field. 
 
 Philip Thompson died at Bedford, January 
 28, 1818, at the age of one hundred and six. 
 In the course of the summer of 1817, he 
 had the misfortune to lose his wife, with 
 whom for upwards of seventy years, he had 
 lived in a state of the most perfect harmony.
 
 lives of Centenarians. 91 
 
 So singular an instance of longevity could 
 not fail to excite attention, and the deceased 
 received visits from the king as well as the 
 surrounding nobility and gentry. 
 
 Up to the period of his decease it was his 
 daily custom to take a walk. 
 
 Edward Lawson died in Northumberland, 
 in the summer of 1805, at the age of one 
 hundred and six. He is said to have been a 
 strong, muscular man, about five feet six 
 inches. He was simple in his habits, and of 
 an easy temper, never distressing himself 
 about anything beyond the occurrences of 
 the moment ; a circumstance which probably 
 contributed much to the prolongation of his 
 life. 
 
 Thomas Parr at his death was one hundred 
 and fifty-two. He lived and died at Win- 
 nington, Shropshire. He was a poor country- 
 man. At the age of eighty-five he married 
 his first wife, by whom he had two children, 
 who died young. At the age of one hundred 
 and twenty he married a widow, ami at the 
 very advanced age of one hundred and thirty 
 he was able to do any husbandry work, even 
 the threshing of corn. He frequently ate by 
 night as well as by day ; was contented with 
 skimmed cheese, milk, coarse bread, small 
 beer, and whey ; and", what is remarkable, he
 
 92 Xivcs of Centenarians. 
 
 ate at midnight a little before he died. He 
 had seen ten kings and queens of England. 
 A few years before his death, he was brought 
 to London by Thomas, Earl of Arundell, 
 who presented him to King Charles I. 
 
 Parr became a domestic in the family of the 
 Earl of Arundell, fed high and drank plenti- 
 fully of the best wines, by which, after a 
 constant plain and homely diet, the natural 
 functions of the parts of his body were over- 
 charged, his lungs obstructed, and the habit 
 of the whole body quite disordered ; in con- 
 sequence there could not but soon follow a 
 dissolution. 
 
 On the tomb of Stephen Rumbold, who 
 died at the age of one hundred and five at 
 Brightwell, Oxfordshire, is the following 
 inscription : 
 
 " He lived one hundred and five 
 
 Sanguine and strong ; 
 An hundred to five 
 You live not so long." 
 
 Margaret Patten, of St. Margaret's Work- 
 house, London, was a Scotch woman. At 
 the time of her death she was one hundred 
 and thirty-seven years old. 
 
 She always enjoyed good health till within
 
 Xives of Centenarians. 93 
 
 a few days of her death ; and for many years 
 lived on milk. 
 
 Peter Mestanea lived one hundred and 
 thirty years. He was born and died in the 
 village of Veniel, in the kingdom of Marcia. 
 He was a bachelor, never tasted wine, was 
 industrious, and bathed regularly every 
 morning in the river Segura, from the be- 
 ginning of spring till it froze. His teeth 
 were sound, and he had never been attacked 
 by any acute distemper. 
 
 John Hussey reached the age of one hun- 
 dred and sixteen. He was a farmer of 
 Sydenham, Kent. 
 
 His breakfast was balm-tea, sweetened 
 with honey ; and pudding for dinner, above 
 fifty years; by which he acquired long life 
 and excellent health. 
 
 Judith Bannister, of Cowes, in the Isle of 
 Wight, lived one hundred and eight years. 
 
 She was attended to her grave by eighty 
 of her descendants. 
 
 She lived upon biscuit and apples, with 
 milk and water, the last sixty years of her life. 
 
 William Sharply, of Knockall, county of 
 Roscommon, reached the remarkable age of 
 one hundred and thirty-eight years. 
 
 He lived well and regularly, but in no 
 wise abstemiously.
 
 94 Utves of Centenarians. 
 
 John Michaelstone, grandson of Thomas 
 Parr, lived to the age of one hundred and 
 twenty-seven by extreme temperance and 
 much exercise. 
 
 Owen Carollan, of Duleek, county of 
 Meath, in Ireland, laborer, had six fingers 
 on each hand and six toes on each foot. By 
 temperance and hard labor he attained the 
 great age of one hundred and twenty-seven. 
 
 Elizabeth Macpherson, of the county of 
 Caithness, in Scotland, at the time of her 
 death was one hundred and seventeen. 
 
 Her diet was butter-milk and greens. She 
 retained her senses till within three months 
 of her death. 
 
 Francis Consit, of Burythorpe, near Mai- 
 ton, Yorkshire, reached the amazing age of 
 one hundred and fifty. 
 
 He was very temperate in his living and 
 used great exercise, which, together with 
 occasionally eating a raw new-laid egg, is 
 said to have enabled him to attain such an 
 extraordinary age. For the last sixty years 
 of his age he was supported by the parish, 
 and retained his senses to the last. 
 
 Philip Loutier, of Shoreditch, London, a 
 French barber, lived to be one hundred and 
 five years of age.
 
 lives of Centenarians. 95 
 
 He drank nothing but water, and only ate 
 once a day. 
 
 Mr. Butler, of the Golden Vale, near Kil- 
 kenny, in Ireland, reached the ripe old age 
 of one hundred and thirty-three. 
 
 He was related to the family of the Duke 
 of Ormond ; could walk well, and could 
 mount his horse with great agility to near 
 the time of his death ; and thus, by much 
 walking and riding, attained good health and 
 longevity. 
 
 Mrs. Clum died at the age of one hundred 
 and thirty-eight, at her home near Litch- 
 field, Staffordshire. 
 
 By frequent exercise and temperate living, 
 she attained so great longevity. 
 
 She left one son and two daughters, the 
 youngest upwards of one hundred years. 
 
 In the year 1779, Fluellen Pryce, of 
 Glamorgan, died at the age of one hundred 
 and one. 
 
 His organs had been so little injured by 
 the weight of years, that within three years 
 of his death he directed a village choir in 
 some variations for the Sunday ; he never 
 used spectacles till within fifteen months of 
 his death. He possessed an unusual flow of 
 spirits, attended with excellent health and
 
 96 Xives of Centenarians. 
 
 activity ; which blessings are said to have 
 been the result of his abstemious manner of 
 living. 
 
 Herb teas were his breakfast ; meat, plainly 
 dressed, his dinner ; and instead of a supper, 
 he refreshed himself with a pipe of tobacco. 
 
 With a slender education, this man had a 
 strong natural genius, and he produced a 
 poem called Carmenta ; predicting, with 
 great humor, the events of the administra- 
 tion of the Duke of Newcastle, and the junto 
 of that period. 
 
 Joseph Ekins, of Combe, Berks, laborer, 
 lived one hundred and three years. 
 
 He never suffered a week's illness, and for 
 the last forty years of his life subsisted 
 entirely on bread, milk, and vegetables. 
 
 Edward Drinker, of Philadelphia, died at 
 the age of one hundred and three. 
 
 He lived on very solid food, drank tea in 
 the afternoon, but ate no supper. 
 
 He was very amiable, uniformly cheerful 
 and kind to every body with whom he came 
 in contact. 
 
 His religious principles were as steady as 
 his morals were pure. 
 
 It has been said that, " the life of this man 
 was marked with several circumstances, 
 which have seldom occurred in the life of an
 
 TLlvca of Centenarians. 97 
 
 individual. He saw the same spot of earth 
 covered with wood, and a receptacle for 
 beasts and birds of prey, afterwards become 
 the seat of a city, not only the first in wealth 
 and arts in the new, but rivalling in both, 
 many of the first cities, in the old world. 
 He saw regular streets where he once pursued 
 a hare ; churches rising upon morasses, where 
 he had often heard the croaking of frogs ; 
 wharfs and warehouses, where he had often 
 seen Indian savages draw fish from the river 
 for daily subsistence ; ships of every size and 
 use in those streams, where he had often 
 seen nothing but Indian canoes ; a stately 
 edifice filled with legislators, astonishing the 
 world with their wisdom and virtue, on the 
 same spot, probably, where he had seen an 
 Indian council-fire. He saw the first treaty 
 ratified between the newly confederated 
 powers of America and the ancient monarchy 
 of France, with all the formality of parch- 
 ment and seals, where he had seen William 
 Penn ratify his first and last treaty with the 
 Indians, without the formalities of pen, ink, 
 and paper ; he witnessed all the intermediate 
 stages through which a people pass, from the 
 lowest to the highest degree of civilization ; 
 the beginning and the end of the empire of 
 Great Britain in Pennsylvania.
 
 98 Xives of Centenarians. 
 
 " He had been the subject of crowned 
 heads, and afterwards died a citizen of the 
 newly-created republic of America, whose 
 liberties and independence he embraced, and 
 triumphed in the last years of his life in the 
 salvation of his country." 
 
 Mr. Smith, of Dolver, Montgomeryshire, 
 farmer, died at the age of one hundred and 
 three. 
 
 He was never known to drink anything 
 but butter-milk. 
 
 James Peters died at the age of one hun- 
 dred and seven. He lived at Dundee, and 
 was a travelling packman. 
 
 Although he often slept in the fields and 
 shades, he enjoyed an uninterrupted state of 
 good health ; and until the last year of his 
 life, retained his memory. His strongest 
 beverage was small beer. 
 
 Mrs. Watkins lived to the age of one 
 hundred and ten years. She resided at 
 Glamorganshire. 
 
 She was remarkable for regularity and 
 moderation, and for the last thirty years she 
 subsisted entirely on potatoes. 
 
 Rebecca Pavey died in the year 1795, at 
 the age of one hundred and six. She lived 
 at Norton Folgate. She is said to have cut
 
 "Lives of Centenarians. 99 
 
 two new teeth at the age of one hundred and 
 two, and had all perfect, except two, at the 
 time of her death. 
 
 Not a single wrinkle was to be seen in her 
 countenance. She kept her bed but three 
 days before her decease. 
 
 Susan Mills died at the age of one hundred 
 and two, in the year of 1796. She resided in 
 a house called the Ship-meadow Lock-house, 
 on the Bungay navigation. Her husband 
 was manager at the locks for Sir John 
 Balling's grandfather, in the year 1715, who 
 was then proprietor of that navigation. 
 
 This instance of longevity seems to 
 contradict the opinion, generally received, 
 of the unwholesomeness of low, marshy 
 situations, her residence being mostly sur- 
 rounded by floods throughout the winter. 
 
 Mr. Charles Macklin, of James Street, 
 Central-garden, London, an eminent dra- 
 matic writer, and celebrated comedian of 
 Covent-garden Theatre, died at the age of 
 one hundred and seven. 
 
 In the former part of his life, till about the 
 age of forty, he lived very intemperately and 
 irregularly ; subsequent thereto he de- 
 termined to live by rule, which he carefully 
 observed.
 
 ioo lives of Centenarians. 
 
 It was his frequent custom to promote 
 perspiration, and then change his linen, par- 
 ticularly as he advanced in life. 
 
 He was moderate at his meals, but in a way 
 abstemious, and ate fish, flesh, and other 
 kinds of food he liked, till the age of seventy, 
 when finding that did not agree with him, he 
 used, as a substitute, milk, with a little bread 
 boiled in it, sweetened with brown sugar. 
 
 He lost all his teeth about the year 1764, 
 and was thereby obliged to subsist princi- 
 pally on fish, eggs, puddings, and spoon food, 
 which luckily he was very fond of. 
 
 For the last forty years of his life, his 
 principal beverage was white wine and water, 
 pretty sweet. 
 
 He was attacked with a severe fit of rheu- 
 matism in the year 1770, and, in consequence 
 to avoid it, discontinued the use of sheets, 
 and slept in blankets. 
 
 It was his custom not to sleep on a feather 
 bed, but on a mattress, which was on a 
 couch, without curtains, placed in the centre 
 of the room, and on which he reposed when- 
 ever he found himself sleepy ; he usually lay 
 with his head high, but, for the last twenty 
 years never took off his clothes, unless to 
 change them, or his linen, or to be rubbed all 
 over with warm brandy or gin ; a custom he
 
 lives ot Centenarians. 101 
 
 often repeated, and occasionally steeped his 
 feet in warm water. 
 
 He observed with the greatest strictness 
 the dictates of nature ; ate when hungry, 
 drank when thirsty, and slept when sleepy. 
 
 Mr. Humphries, a carpenter, of Xewing- 
 ton, near London, was so void of curiosity 
 that he never was a mile distant from the 
 house in which he was born. 
 
 He died at the age of one hundred and 
 two. 
 
 John Wilson, formerly a blacksmith of 
 Sosgill, Cumberland, died at the age of one 
 hundred. 
 
 His beverage was milk or water, with the 
 exception of two glasses of ale, and one glass 
 of spirituous liquor. 
 
 F. O'Sullivan, of Beerhaven, in Ireland, 
 died at the age of one hundred and eleven. 
 
 He retained his mental faculties to the last 
 moment. 
 
 For the last fifty years he lived chiefly on 
 fish, of which he was very fond, particularly 
 maiden reas. 
 
 Dennis Carroll, a farmer of Ballygurton, 
 County of Kilkenny, had accustomed him- 
 self to regular temperance and exercise, and 
 thereby never experienced an hour's sickness 
 during the whole of his very long life. He
 
 102 Xtves of Centenarians. 
 
 died at the great age of one hundred and 
 eighteen. 
 
 John Reside, a farmer of Dramul, in Scot- 
 land, died at one hundred and two. His 
 long life adds another instance to the many 
 which have been recorded of the effects of 
 temperance upon the human frame. 
 
 He was temperate in all his meals, and en- 
 joyed uninterrupted good health till near the 
 time of his death. 
 
 He was, perhaps, never intoxicated in his 
 life. 
 
 Mrs. Burnett, of Lignageeragh, in Ireland, 
 died at the age of one hundred and sixteen. 
 She was a woman of uncommon shrewdness 
 and activity, benevolent, and, as far as her 
 means would permit, very charitable. 
 
 In her habits of diet, she was very tem- 
 perate ; she lived chiefly on potatoes and 
 milk, and stirabout ; never drank spirits or 
 beer, but sometimes a glass of sweet wine, of 
 which she was fond. She was (like most 
 other long-lived people) an early riser, and 
 took regular but not violent exercise. For 
 the last twenty years of her life she seldom 
 failed to walk from the cottage where she 
 lived to Edgeworth's town, a distance of 
 about an English mile, over a rough stony 
 road. To the last of her long life she pre-
 
 Xives of Centenarians. 103 
 
 served her memory, which possessed the un- 
 common faculty of retaining recent circum- 
 stances as well as those which happened in 
 her youth. 
 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Fletcher, of Gay's-hill, Ja- 
 maica, died at the amazing age of one 
 hundred and twenty. 
 
 She retained all her faculties, enjoyed a 
 good appetite, and possessed her usual flow 
 of spirits to the period of her death, and did 
 the duties of her domestic concerns till the 
 last three years ; she was of a lively and 
 cheerful disposition. 
 
 Elizabeth Beech, of Market Drayton, died 
 at the age of one hundred and four. She 
 was born in the sixth year of the reign of 
 Queen Anne, and fully remembered the 
 coronation of King George I., which hap- 
 pened when she was about six years of age. 
 
 She disliked broth, tea, and all kinds of 
 stimulants. She ate the coarsest food, such 
 as potatoes and bacon, on which she fed 
 heartily ; of late she abstained from cheese. 
 She possessed her memory and eyesight un- 
 impaired till within a year or two of her 
 death. 
 
 Moses Gomez Carvallo, of Amsterdam, 
 died at the age of one hundred and seven. 
 
 He was a native of Portugal, but emigrated
 
 104 3Lfves of Centenarians. 
 
 from thence on account of his religion in 
 1729. He was twice married ; his eldest 
 son died at the age of seventy-eight, when 
 his youngest daughter was only twenty-two. 
 He enjoyed all his faculties till the moment 
 of his death. He never lost a tooth or used 
 spectacles. His drink was milk and water, 
 with a very small glass of brandy, which he 
 took daily. 
 
 Anne Henley, of Smart's Buildings, Lon- 
 don, died at the age of one hundred and 
 four. 
 
 She had enjoyed an uninterrupted state 
 of health till within six days of her death, 
 and retained her faculties in full vigor till 
 within a few hours of her end. 
 
 Her beverage to her fortieth year was 
 whey, which she discontinued on coming to 
 London. 
 
 The latter part of her life she received 
 something weekly from the parish, but sup- 
 ported herself chiefly by making pin-cushions, 
 which she made neatly without the aid of 
 glasses. 
 
 She used to sit at various doors in Hoi- 
 burn to sell her cushions ; was short in 
 stature, always wore a gray cloak, and was 
 as mild and modest in her deportment as 
 she was cleanly in her person.
 
 lives of Centenarians. 105 
 
 Mrs. Clarke, of Stonehouse, Kent. She 
 was at the battle of Fontenoy with her hus- 
 band. She lived over one hundred years. 
 
 Tea was her constant beverage, and she 
 asserted that she never drank either beer or 
 spirits. 
 
 The following sketch of an aged person, 
 which appeared in the Press of April 23, 
 1895, proves that there are still people 
 among us who observe the rules of health : 
 
 " Catherine Scott, who was said to be the 
 oldest woman in Brooklyn, died at No. 64 
 Columbia Street yesterday, aged one hun- 
 dred and three years. She was a remark- 
 able person in many ways. Her eyes never 
 failed her, and her memory was excellent. 
 Things which happened seventy-five years 
 ago were as fresh in her mind as those of 
 recent date. 
 
 " Mrs. Scott was a woman of excellent 
 judgment, and her neighbors for miles 
 around sought her advice. She lived a most 
 methodical life. Every day she breakfasted 
 at six o'clock, dined at noon, and had tea at 
 six o'clock. She was of a cheerful disposi- 
 tion, and moved about as rapidly as women 
 half her age. Occasionally she drank a glass 
 of ale, which she characteristically explained 
 ' did her a power of good.'
 
 io6 Hives of Centenarians. 
 
 " She was a native of Ireland, and had 
 lived in Brooklyn almost sixty years. She 
 was married in 1821, the year Napoleon died 
 at St. Helena, which she remembered dis- 
 tinctly. She was the mother of four chil- 
 dren, all of whom died long ago. She never 
 worried. There was no sign of care on her 
 face, which was almost free from wrinkles, 
 and her head contained not a single gray 
 hair. 
 
 " The venerable woman retained all her 
 faculties to the last. A few moments before 
 she died she called a grandson to her bed- 
 side. 
 
 " ' Kiss me, my child,' she said. ' I shall 
 not live long.' " 
 
 THE END.
 
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