r in the world, is
Rev. Thos. Tenant, of Vineyard Township, Arkansas, an itinerant
Methodist preacher, born in 1771, now in his 116th year.

Mr. Edward Gentry told a more remarkable story at Indianapolis, last
July. He was at the governor's office, and gentlemen were guessing at
his age. None supposed him over fifty; but he said he had a son
fifty-two years old, and was himself seventy-eight. He added: "My
doctor has given me a fifty years' longer lease on my life, barring
accidents. My father is 128 and is still living. My mother died at the
age of 117, and her mother lived to the same age." Mr. Gentry is of
English birth.

Perhaps the best specimen of family health is that of the Atkinson
family of Gloucester, Mass. Nine children were born, and all lived.
The first death in the family was a few weeks ago, when John Atkinson
died, aged eighty-four. When he died the ages of the nine amounted to
703 years.

Aunt Dinah John, the oldest Indian at the Onondaga reservation died in
May, 1884, aged 109.

About ten years ago, when Governor Seymour was about to make an
address at an Indian fair on the Onondaga reservation, Aunt Dinah
walked upon the platform and asked to be introduced to him.

Mr. Gardner said, "Governor Seymour, this is Aunt Dinah, who wants to
become acquainted with you."

"Oh, no; him get acquainted with me," Aunt Dinah explained. "Me know
him before he know anybody. Many years ago me go to Pompey Hill, his
father's grocery. Governor's father say: 'My squaw very sick.' I ask,
'What matter?' His father say, 'Go in and see for yourself.' He go
into a room; see a little pappoose about a foot long." Then moving
toward Governor Seymour, and pointing her finger at him, she said:
"That pappoose was you, Governor Seymour, born that night."

Aunt Dinah called frequently at Mr. Seymour's and took especial
delight in rocking the cradle and showering caresses in her native
fashion upon the future Governor of the State.

About three years ago she became blind, and has since been kept at her
home on the Onondaga reservation. She retained her faculties to the
last. Her husband died thirty years ago. Her dying request was that
the pagan ceremony be first observed and afterward the Christian
ritual.

What are we to reckon, says the _Home Journal_, as the declining
period of man's existence? The point at which old age taps us on the
shoulder, and says it comes to keep us company, varies with every
individual. It d