PREFACE 



IN publishing another volume of mixed essays, 

 most of them written in the over-time I have 

 made since I passed the Scriptural limit of three- 

 score and ten years, I am cherishing the hope that 

 my reader will not wish I had stopped at the 

 boundary set by the Psalmist. 



There is no other joy in life like mental and bodily 

 activity, like keeping up a live interest in the world 

 of thought and things. Old age is practically held 

 at bay so long as one can keep the currents of his life 

 moving. The vital currents, like mountain streams, 

 tend to rejuvenate themselves as they flow. 



One reaps his harvest, and it looks as if his acres 

 would never yield another, but lo! as the seasons 

 return, there springs a fresh crop of ideas and obser- 

 vations. It seems as if one never could get to the end 

 of all the delightful things there are to know, and to 

 observe, and to speculate about in the world. Na- 

 ture is always young, and there is no greater felicity 

 than to share in her youth. I still find each day too 

 short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the 

 walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, 

 and all the friends I want to see. But I will confide 

 to my reader that there is one thing I am quite cer- 



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