I do not wonder that the patriarchs lived to the good old age which they attained. I do not wonder that they counted by hundreds where we count by tens. Sparsely scattered over the face of the earth, with their flocks and their herds and their servants; living a frugal and a homely life; inheriting a constitution unbroken by many generations of vice, indulgence, and luxury; with constant but gentle activity of body, and rare and scanty excitement of mind--there was little in the whole course of their existence to wear down the frame and to impair the health. The sword was so seldom drawn--in short--only enough to keep it from rusting--that it did not fret the scabbard. With us, how different is the case! The pursuit of wealth, of pleasure, of fame; the constant exertion of mind and of body; the struggles of an overpacked population, each man like the cuckoo whose offspring tried to shoulder the other out of the nest; the wearing and fretting of continual disappointments; the musquito-bites of small cares; the everlasting thought for the morrow--all these things break us down and shorten life, "_Et corpore frangitur curis et laboribus_." Nevertheless, in this troublesome and toilsome existence--troublesome and toilsome even to those whom fate and fortune have most favoured--come lapses, either of calm and pleasant tranquillity or of dull and heavy inactivity. Such was the case with me for several weeks. My wound would have healed, probably, at once, had it not been for the slight injury to the bone of the arm. That, however, produced a long train of unpleasant, though not dangerous, symptoms, for which there were no remedies but patience and perfect tranquillity. Anything like exercise was actually forbidden; and I found to my cost when, once or twice, I broke through the rule, that violent irritation and even inflammation followed. There was nothing for it but to submit quietly to a sort of life which was not at all congenial to my habits or my taste.