THE FLESHY, THE THIN, THE OLD
Here is his diary entry: "On May 9, 1898, retired 10.50 p.m.; awoke 3.50 a.m., took two thousand swings (with twelve-pound bells); 7 a.m. arose again and took one thousand swings—eight hours, ten minutes, less one hour exercising, equals seven hours, ten minutes sleep"—which is a fair sample of the entries for years. After several months of this exercise, and of three or four miles of walking almost every day, he says: "My eyesight greatly improved, and is better than it was ten years ago, although I have never worn glasses. My hearing also is good, as good as it over was.
How old is he? Eighty on the day before Christmas, 1897. No arcus senilis in his eye. A strong, clear eye like that of a man of fifty. He had this picture taken in March, 1898. A sunny, even-tempered, well-balanced, high-minded, busy man; as ready to start for California or Europe if business calls as you or I. And he says that the mother of one of Philadelphia's best-known citizens told him that she used her dumb-bells in a different way from his; but she kept it up almost to her death at ninety-two!
What a wonderful story! And what a helpful one! Many men, along in years, are dying slowly from not doing some such work, and will lose years they might have had. All other machines rust out from disuse; and the human body is no exception. Had Jay Gould done as Mr. Griscom has done, he would probably be a live, active man to-day. Yet what did this little work cost? Not one dollar! Simply a little common-sense and determination; and the prize—a human life.
This activity among men so far on in years seems surprising. And why? Because, as people get past middle life, often from becoming engrossed in business; and
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