Metchnikoff, the eminent philosopher and student who has devoted years of study and research to the life and death of man, says: “When diseases are suppressed, and the course of life regulated by scientific hygiene, it is probable that death will come only at extreme old age. When death comes in its natural place at the end of the normal cycle of the physical life, it will be robbed of its terrors, and be accepted gratefully as any other part of the cycle of life.” He thinks, in fact, that the instinct of life may be replaced by an instinct of death. “It is even possible,” he says, “that the approach of natural death is one of the most pleasant sensations in the world.” Perhaps the most striking evidence of the truth of this so far recorded is the case of Brillat-Savarin’s aunt—who, at ninety-three, said to her famous nephew, “If you ever reach my age you will find that one wants to die just as one wants to sleep.” All of us know of cases where the very aged, having lived their lives to the best of their perceptions, awaited death willingly and almost joyfully. As Browning says, “Thou waitedst age; wait death, nor be afraid.” Fear of the approach of death disturbs us because we feel further possibilities of life. We do not want to be cut off in the flower of our existence; we think of death, not as a change of existence, but as the end of it, and we think there is no sure way of avoiding that. All of us have felt the truth of Dickens’ idea of the bells which toll almost gladly for the aged, but seem to weep when the young die. We are sure we should not fear death, nor be unwilling to die if we had the privilege of living to a “ripe old age.” For time is not measured by the clock or by the calendar; those measure only the revolutions of the earth and of the sun. Time is measured by thought and act, and, more than all, by feeling. And we can ordinarily prolong our own lives to the time when we shall willingly and gladly lay them down. This willingness is by no means the same feeling that prompts the useless and unmeaning exclamation, “Oh, I wish I were dead!” The average person gets into such an unreasoning state over every little happening that he cannot see any connection between the events in his daily life. He becomes discouraged, and thinks for the moment that he would like to quit it all. No matter how many years such an one has lived, he has not attained a “ripe old age.” Ripeness has no part in petty impatience; it implies mellowness, soundness, and general wholesomeness of character.