“Yes, I _do_. I think the deaths of most people who die, come of their indifference to the power that the Lord has given them of living on. Now, I think that you have the power to live on in the full possession of all your faculties to the age of one hundred years at the very least, and how much longer I don’t know. And I shall take it very hard of you, if you don’t do it, uncle.” “Hem; I shall try to oblige you my dear,” said the General, dryly. “I hope you will! for you know I expect you to live to see your namesake, Leonard Lyon, junior, a bishop, a judge or a general, (whichever he shall please to be, for it will depend upon his choice of a profession,) or even President of the United States. The highest position is open to competition and you cannot tell what he may be yet; you must live to see.” “Do you intend to live your century out, Drusilla?” “If it please Providence, yes; for I shall try to preserve the gift of life he has given me. And when I shall be a hundred years old, my little Leonard will be eighty-four, and a wigged chief-justice, or a mitred archbishop or something equally exalted. And I should not wonder if you should be alive and merry then.” “Oh, tut, tut, tut! you are laughing at me, little Drusa!” “Heaven forbid! People enough have lived to be a hundred and forty. Henry Jenkins lived to be a hundred and sixty-nine, and even then he did not die from old age, or from disease, but from sheer imprudence, I might say accident, such as would have killed any man at any age.” “My dear niece, that case was a highly exceptional one.” “Well, and why shouldn’t you make your own case a highly exceptional one?” “My dear, you are extravagant.” “Well, maybe I am, in talking about a hundred and sixty-nine years; but I do positively insist upon your living a full century. That is only fair.” “My darling, our prayers should be not so much for a _long_ life as for a _good_ life.” “I stand corrected,” said Drusilla, reverently; “but for all that I insist upon the century; for I think it was the Lord’s design that man should live so long.” “Let me live so long as my life can be of use to others and no longer,” said the veteran. “Your life is of use to others as long as it gives happiness to others, and therefore I insist upon the century,” persisted Drusilla. “Well, my dear, I have no particular objection,” laughed the General, as they all arose from the table. Then came the healthful walk around the grounds, the General with his darling granddaughter hanging on his arm, and Dick and Drusilla, and the nurse with the baby, sauntering along promiscuously. During this walk Anna gave her grandfather a very sprightly and entertaining description of her journey; and in return he told her how he and Drusilla had passed their time at home. Dick amused Drusilla with spirited sketches of travel.