from going to a doctor for fear that he should tell me that
I must give up my studies--that I am failing and coming very near to the
end of my span."

"Oh, surely not," said Chester. "You look a very healthy subject, sir."

"I--I don't know, my dear sir, but I have been afraid to go; and here,
all at once, in the most casual way, I suddenly make the acquaintance of
a medical man, and find him seated opposite to me, talking in a friendly
way which quite invites my confidence. It is strange, is it not?"

"Very strange, indeed," said Chester, gazing hard in the pleasant, bland
old countenance before him. "But really, my dear sir, I do not think
you require medical advice."

The old man returned the fixed gaze and then said appealingly--

"I hope, my dear sir, you are speaking sincerely."

"Of course," replied Chester.

"Not as doctors sometimes do, to encourage their patients?"

"Certainly not," cried Chester. "There is every sign of a vigorous,
green old age about you."

"That is very pleasant to hear, my dear sir," said the old man, "very
pleasant. I don't think I am one ready to repine, or one who would seek
to live for selfish considerations--love of pleasure or the like--but I
have so much to do. I want years yet to complete my collection, and I
may have to go over to Leyden, Leipsic, Nuremberg, Florence, and several
of the other Continental towns which were the birthplaces of many of
these old tomes which you see upon my shelves."

"I see no reason why you should not live for years yet, sir," said
Chester, encouragingly.

"But my head--my brain. I find I grow forgetful, my dear sir. I put
away books and forget their places. All little symptoms, are they not,
of failing powers?"

"To be perfectly candid, certainly they are," said Chester; "but in a
healthy old age these failings come very, very gradually, and nature
suggests so many ways of palliating them. For instance, a clever young
secretary with a methodical turn of mind would relieve you of a trouble
like this. Really I do not think that you have any occasion to trouble
yourself about such a symptom as that, any more than you have about the
failing powers of sight which compelled you to take to glasses."

"My dear young friend!" cried the old man, leaning forward to catch at
his visitor's hand, "I cannot find words to express my gratitude. You
do not know what a relief your words have been to me. It is wonderful,
and upon such a casu