I remember a foolish woman who was very anxious to retain the hold
upon the active world which she had once possessed. She very seldom
spoke of any subject but herself, her performances, her activities,
the pressure of the claims which she was forced to try to satisfy.
I can recall her now, with her sanguine complexion, her high voice,
her anxious and restless eye wandering in search of admiration.
"The day's post!" she cried, "that is one of my worst trials--so
many duties to fulfil, so many requests for help, so many
irresistible claims come before me in the pile of letters--that
high," indicating about a foot and a half of linear measurement
above the table. "It is the same story every day--a score of people
bringing their little mugs of egotism to be filled at my pump of
sympathy!"
It was a ridiculous exhibition, because one was practically sure
that there was nothing of the kind going on. One was inclined to
believe that they were mugs of sympathy filled at the pump of
egotism! But if the thing were really being done, it was certainly
worth doing!
One of the causes of the failure of nerve-force in age, which lies
behind so much of these miseries, is that people who have lived at
all active lives cannot bring themselves to realise their loss of
vigour, and try to prolong the natural energies of middle age into
the twilight of elderliness.
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