For, disburdened of my smoke-colored glasses, I appeared what I was, young and vigorous in spite of my white beard and hair.

My face, which had been worn and haggard at first, had filled up and was healthily colored; while my eyes, the spokesmen of my thoughts, were bright with the clearness and fire of constitutional strength and physical well-being.

I wondered, as I stared moodily at my own reflection, how it was that I did not look ill.

The mental suffering I continually underwent, mingled though it was with a certain gloomy satisfaction, should surely have left more indelible traces on my countenance.

Yet it has been proved that it is not always the hollow-eyed, sallow and despairing-looking persons who are really in sharp trouble--these are more often bilious or dyspeptic, and know no more serious grief than the incapacity to gratify their appetites for the high-flavored delicacies of the table.