458 MR. TAYLOR'S WINTER JOURNEY. 



should not have suspected him of being over seventy* 

 five. His wrinkles are few and small, and his skin has a 

 smoothness and delicacy rarely seen in old men. His 

 hair, although snow-white, is still abundant; his step 

 slow but firm, and his manner active almost to restless- 

 ness. He sleeps but four hours out of the twenty-four, 

 reads and replies to his daily rain of letters, and 

 suffers no single occurrence of the least interest in any 

 part of the world to escape his attention. I could not 

 perceive that his memory, the first mental faculty to 

 show decay, is at all impaired. He talks rapidly, with 

 the greatest apparent ease, never hesitating, for a word, 

 whether in English or German, and, in fact, seemed to 

 be unconscious which language he was using, as he changed 

 five or six times in the course of the conversation. He 

 did not remain in his chair more than ten minutes at a 

 time, frequently getting up and walking about the room, 

 now and then pointing to a picture, or opening a book 

 to illustrate some remark. 



" He began by referring to my Winter Journey into 

 Lapland. 'Why do you choose the Winter?' he asked : 

 ' Your experiences will be very interesting, it is true, 

 but will you not suffer from the severe cold ?' ' That re- 

 mains to be seen,' I answered, ' I have tried all climates 

 except the Arctic, without the least injury. The last 

 two years of my travels were spent in tropical countries, 

 and now I wish to have the strongest possible contrast.' 

 'That is quite natural,' he remarked, 'and I can under- 

 stand how your object in travel must lead you to seek 

 such contrasts; but you must possess a remarkably 

 healthy organization.' 'You doubtless know from your 

 own experience,' I said, ' that nothing preserves -a man's 



