othing about it.

The motives of the author, however, in deserting the flat in Chelsea,
were not entirely due to dreams of lofty achievement, but to the stern
necessity to read voraciously on the subject of Heat for his
examination. And one of the dominating changes which he discovers in
himself after the passage of thirteen years is a sad falling off in
brain-power. He is no longer able to read voraciously on the subject
of Heat and Heat-engines. His technical library remains packed with
grim neatness in his cabin book-case. When his juniors bring problems
involving a quadratic equation he is stricken with a horrible fear
lest the answer won't come out. He looks through his old examination
papers and echoes Swift's melancholy sigh "Gad! What a genius I had
when I wrote all that!" Most professional men, one is bound to
suppose, become aware at periods of the gradual ossification of their
intellects. And it is not always easy to retain a full consciousness
of the compensating advantages of seniority in the face of this
positive degeneration. One begins to watch carefully for errors where
one used to go pounding to a finish with a full-blooded rush. One has
a feeling of being overtaken; the young people of the next decade can
be heard not far behind, and they seem to be offensively successful in
business, in friendship, and in love. One has ceased to be interesting
to the women of thirty and the men of forty. The achievement of years
shrinks to depressing dimensions, and the real test is on. One becomes
uncomfortably aware of the shrewd poke of Degas that "any one can have
talent at twenty-five. The great thing is to have talent at forty."

The reader is invited to assume, therefore, that the author, at
twenty-five, was sufficiently talented and ambitious to read
voraciously on Heat and a great many other subjects. That he did so
he calls on Mrs. Honeyball to witness, since that lady was really
concerned for his health and urged him not to work too hard "for fear
of a break-down." There was never any danger of a break-down, however.
London was outside that window with 1472 carved below it, and at the
first warning of fatigue the author would take hat and stick and fare
forth in search of recreation and adventure. He would apologize to
Mrs. Honeyball and her friends gathered in the little room below,
where they were discussing what Mr. Honeyball described as "Christian
Work." Mr. Honeyball used to bring out this phrase wi