activity. He himself would hardly have admitted this. A title that suggested itself to him for his Reminiscences was, "Retrospect of an Idle Life." When on one occasion he was told by his medical attendant that he had been using his brain too much, he exclaimed, "That is absurd." He would say of himself, that while he talked too much he did nothing. But in truth men "who have nothing to do," are very serviceable members of society, if they only know how to employ their time.
Those who knew him best, protested against the self-reproaches he heaped upon himself for not being of more use. Miss Denman says in a letter:—"I must scold you in good earnest. What can you mean by complaining of being useless in the world, when you must be conscious that every human being you ever called friend, has found you one in any and every emergency where your kindness and services could be made available? Do we not all feel and acknowledge this, and are you the only forgetful person? I'll tell you what you should do. When the uncomfortable discouraging idea is taking hold of your mind, call over the names of the persons you have been most intimate with, and ask yourself before you dismiss each name,—Have I never done a service, given useful advice or pecuniary aid, to this person? Try this, and I think your mind will be relieved from the fancied evil." He was, as he himself expressed it, "A busy idle man."
In the early part of his life, simple habits and a very limited expenditure were necessary to "make both ends meet." But when his means became considerable he
