One of the most eloquent sermons on the preservation of the mind and body is found in the every-day life of William Cullen Bryant. The death of any man who has lived beyond fourscore years ought not to be considered a surprise. But the passing away of Mr. Bryant startled every intelligent man in America. At the age of eighty-four he was so buoyant in spirit and active in mind and body, and the poetic fancy still survived in him "as though it had drunk from the fountain of eternal youth," that his passing from the busy scene of life was a surprise as well as a sorrow.

The manner in which the author of Thanatopsis maintained such freshness of spirit, and performed so much literary labor long after he was three-score years and ten, is an interesting study. His habits of life became so important a matter to the public that in 1871, at the request of a New York publisher, he prepared the following statement:

"I have reached a pretty advanced period of life - 78 years and 4 months - without the usual infirmities of old age, and with my strength, activity, and bodily faculties generally in pretty good preservation. How far this may be the effect of my way of life, adopted long ago, and steadily adhered to, is perhaps uncertain. I rise early - at this time of the year about halfpast five; in summer, half an hour, or even an hour, earlier. I immediately, with very little incumbrance of clothing, begin a series of exercises, for the most part designed to expand the chest, and at the same time call into action all the muscles and articulations of the body. These are performed with dumb-bells, the very lightest, covered with flannel; with a pole, a horizontal bar, and a light chair swung around my head.

"After a full hour, and sometimes more, passed in this manner, I bathe from head to foot. When at my place in the country, I sometimes shorten my exercise in the chamber, and going out, occupy myself for half an hour or more in some work that requires brisk exercise. After my bath, if breakfast be not ready, I sit down to my studies until I am called. My breakfast is a simple one - hominy and milk, or in place of hominy, brown bread, or oatmeal, or wheaten grits, and in season, baked sweet apples. Tea or coffee I never touch at any time. At breakfast, I often take fruit, either in its natural state or freshly stewed. After breakfast I occupy myself for a while with my studies, and then, when in town, I walk down to the office of the Evening Post, nearly three miles distant, and after about three hours, return, always walking, whatever be the weather or the state of the streets. In the country I am engaged in my literary tasks, till a feeling of weariness drives me out into the open air, and I go upon my farm or into the garden and prune the trees, or perform some other work about them which they need, and then go back to my books.

"At the meal which is called tea, I take only a little bread and butter with fruit. In town, where I dine later, I make but two meals a day. Fruit makes a considerable part of my diet. My drink is water.

"I never meddle with tobacco, except to quar rel with its use. That I may rise early, I, of course, go to bed early; in town as early as ten; in the country somewhat earlier. For many years I have avoided, in the evening, every kind of literary occupation which tasks the faculties, such as composition, even to the writing of letters, for the reason that it excites my nervous system and prevents sound sleep. I abominate all drugs and narcotics, and have always carefully avoided everything which spurs nature to exertions which it would not otherwise make. Even with my food, I do not take the usual condiments, such as pepper and the like."

In the article, "Age in Relation to Mental Activity," found in another part of this volume, it will be seen that some of Mr. Bryant's best work was done after he passed the age of seventy years. During the last ten or fifteen years of his life he appeared on many special occasions as a public speaker. He was an orator of splendid powers.

On the twenty-ninth of May, 1878, Mr. Bryant delivered the oration at the unveiling of the statue of the Italian patriot, Giuseppe Mazzini, in Central Park, New York City. It was a masterpiece of descriptive oratory. The afternoon was intensely hot, and during the exercises, Mr. Bryant's uncovered head was exposed to the burning rays of the sun. When he had concluded the oration, he walked in company with James Grant Wilson to the home of the latter, and as they were about to enter the house, Mr. Bryant fainted, striking his head upon a stone step. Hemorrhage in the brain soon followed, and on the twelfth of June, his life, which had been singularly pure and fruitful, came to an end.