On a stormy evening I made a talk before a full house, in the village, clothed like a ghost, and looking as conspicuously, all solitary and alone on that platform, as any ghost could have looked; and I found, to my gratification, that it took the house less than ten minutes to forget about the ghost and give its attention to the tidings I had brought.
I am nearly seventy-one, and I recognize that my age has given me a good many privileges; valuable privileges; privileges which are not granted to younger persons.

Little by little I hope to get together courage enough to wear white clothes all through the winter, in New York.

It will be a great satisfaction to me to show off in this way; and perhaps the largest of all the satisfactions will be the knowledge that every scoffer, of my sex, will secretly envy me and wish he dared to follow my lead.
That mention that I have acquired new and great privileges by grace of my age, is not an uncalculated remark.

When I passed the seventieth mile-stone, ten months ago, I instantly realized that I had entered a new country and a new atmosphere.

To all the public I was become recognizably old, undeniably old; and from that moment everybody assumed a new attitude toward me--the reverent attitude granted by custom to age--and straightway the stream of generous new privileges began to flow in upon me and refresh my life.