Comfort for Octogenarian
When you are eighty years old, good reader, you may soliloquize after this fashion:
“I have become very deaf. What a blessing. There is such a lot of silly talk I cannot hear, such scandals, etc.”
“My eyes are failing. How fortunate! I do not see a tithe of folly and wickedness that is gong on around me. I am blind to faults that would provoke me to censure.”
“I have lost my teeth, and my voice is not very audible. Well, I find it no use babbling to folks who won’t listen, so I save my breath for better purposes. I don’t show my teeth where I can’t bite. I venture on no tough meat.”
“My taste is not so discriminating as in days of yore, and the good is that I am more easily satisfied, don’t keep finding fault, am contented and thankful. A nice palate is a plague I have got rid of.”
“ My joints are rather stiff. Well, it they were ever so supple, I do not want to go to see the sights hear concerts, make speeches, nor carouse at feasts.”
“I am not so strong as I was; but for what do I need to be stout! I am not going to wrestle or fight with anybody. My morals are generally improved.”
“My brain is not so clear as in my younger days, therefore I am neither hot-headed nor opinionated. I forgot a thousand injuries.”
Title: Comfort for Octogenarian
Author: Unknown
Location: Unknown
Year: Unknown
Media: Newspaper article, glued to Page 196 of the Ledger of Captain W. B.
Blair
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