During one of my four-day jumps from coast to coast recently, I made the acquaintance of a very affable gentleman in his early fifties. He had the advantage of me in age, having passed through my period some twenty years back, while my advantage lay before me, yet to be disposed of. He was a man of brains, his eyes were alert, his years rested easily upon him. I marveled at his physical activity, also his mental pep. One thing he said to me that will hang in my memory the rest of my days.

“I am guided by my hindsight—you at your age, by your foresight,” said he. Then he went on to explain. At my age he had ambitions and crowded on the steam. At forty his success in all ways seemed assured, so he rushed forward with all his might. At forty-five he experienced a period of physical reaction, which, in the light of his present knowledge, was a warning, but he did not heed it. At forty-seven he was a physical and mental wreck.

“I had failed to adjust myself to my failing powers,” said he. “I took on greater responsibilities than ever, bent, as I was, on rounding out a huge success. I almost wound up in my grave.”

Now here was a chance for a real pointer from a man of intellectual force, so I urged him to go on through the sequence of events that had brought him back to such superb health and spirits.

“It took me three years to get by that ugly period of mental and physical depression, the early part of which I spent in floundering around from one expert to another, traveling here and there and gaining nothing in the way of respite, to say nothing of cure. Then suddenly, I stumbled into an acquaintance with a new adviser—a life insurance agent!”

I broke out laughing at this point and he joined good-naturedly.

“I knew you’d be amused,” said he. “Every friend I have jokes on the subject. Nevertheless,” he continued, “this life insurance agent cured me and I haven’t taken a spoonful of medicine since I met him. Are you interested as to details?” he asked, his eyes twinkling, his cheeks glowing with health. (Courage, friend reader. This isn’t the beginning of the novel I intend to write.) “Up to my ears,” I replied. “I am interested in every little thing that happens.”

“Well, it’s worth your while,” he continued dryly, “and the ‘cure’ may serve you well some day. I met this man at Long Beach. I was sitting under a large umbrella-tent watching the bathers and feeling like “Sam Hill,” when a fine, strapping young man came dripping out of the waves and sauntered up near me. It was a hot day and noting my ample shade he came over and looked down at me good-naturedly. I would have given all I possessed for his robust health and grand physique. I motioned to some unoccupied space under my tent, which he accepted.

“‘Not sick, I hope?’ said he enquiringly.

“‘Oh-no!’ I blurted back at him. ‘I’m feeling like a young kitten.’ Then I glowered at him ferociously. That made him laugh, and he was a good hand at it. I turned away from him in disgust, and let him do his worst. Finally he calmed down and quite soberly remarked:

“‘You’re not sick—nothing the matter with you! I’ll write a policy on you in a week’s time if you’ll do as I direct. I am a life insurance agent and I mean what I say.’

“‘I’ll take you up,’ I bellowed in reply, ‘and I’ll bet you five hundred you lose!’ I was pretty much exasperated at the fellow.

“‘You’re on,’ said he, ‘but I won’t take your five hundred if I win. Let’s put it this way—if you are well enough to pass a rigid physical examination one week from today will you let me write you up for a fifty-thousand dollar policy?’ “‘I will, young man, and you can start your shell game at your pleasure. But I won’t stand for any science work or nonsense. If you bore me I shall tell you so and that means all bets are off and you go your way.’

“‘We’ll begin now,’ said he quietly, but there was a certain air of confidence in his voice that made me wonder.

“‘First, I’m going to tell you about yourself,’ he went on to say. ‘You’re pretty much like an engineer who went along forty years without an accident and then his engine broke down and both went to the ditch in a heap. You’ve been successful in business, anyone would know that at a glance, but you’ve made a mess of your physical resources.’ I nodded. He was right thus far.

“‘You started in early at the game, your affairs grew, your responsibilities enlarged, and you worked your gray matter overtime without stopping to oil up your machinery. In other words, you have never played, you haven’t laughed, you haven’t mingled with people in a social way. So now you are pretty near ready for the scrap heap. Am I right?’

“‘Uhuh—go on,’ said I.

“‘You once came pretty near asking a fine woman to marry you, but something came up and you forgot it.’

“‘Yep—you’re right, Mr. Mind-Reader. Proceed,’ I said, ‘and whatever you do or say don’t mind my feelings.’ He noted the resentment in my voice I presume, for he waited some time before going on.

“‘The rest is easy—any life insurance agent who knows his business could take up the story at this point and go ahead with it.’ He laughed good-naturedly as I shrugged my shoulders.

“‘You’re an agent, go on with the case. What’s the answer? Let’s hear all of the horrible details.’ I was getting peevish, although the fellow had my interest aroused.

“‘Very well. Yours is the old, old story. At forty big things loomed ahead—your circle enlarged. You gave yourself up to big plans. They progressed famously and at forty-five you were a rich and influential man. But there were a lot of multi-millionaires that had you skinned on size of pile so you took the plunge and went after them. You never gave your waning physical powers a thought for the next two years, and then you went all to pieces—mentally.’

“‘Mentally! what do you mean when you say mentally? Am I crazy?’ The thought made me laugh.

“‘Mentally,’ he repeated with a good-natured smile. ‘You didn’t go crazy—your brain fagged. It wore out just like a typewriter ribbon wears out—from constant usage. You’ve been thinking ever since that your physical department was to blame for your condition. Nothing of the sort. You are in fine physical trim, or will be when you take your mind off of your ailments and forget about the old deals. Come on, let’s take a dip,’ he urged, and the first thing I knew he was dragging me along into the brine.

“To make a long story short, that fellow got me to laughing and playing like a boy. We violated every rule of health that had been laid down by doctors and in five days were playing golf together.” “So he won his bet after all,” said I enthusiastically, for I had been pulling for the agent all through the recital.

“You bet he did, and I let him write me up for a half million instead of the sum he named.”

“Bully for you!” I replied. “And I’m going to remember what you have told me.”

“That’s right—at forty begin to adjust yourself to the next period—forty-five. Arriving there safely, begin to adjust for fifty. If you are alive then you should go on for years, always keeping in mind that you must readjust every fifth year after you cross the forty line.”

There is an old saying that you can’t fool a percentage table, and that was what the agent went by. So, if our lives are to be made worth while we must surely observe the simple rules governing health and longevity. The candle won’t burn at both ends and stand up in the bargain. At forty I’m going to begin to adjust—I believe what the agent said.