   “Am I not, three score and eight years old, unto the which age none of my fourteen brethren came; and, yet I thank God, I eat, I drink, I sleep as well as I did these thirty years bygone, and better than when I was younger, only the gravel now and then seasons my mirth with some little pain, which I have felt only since the beginning of March the last year, a month before my deliverance from prison.” |
