THE PACE WHICH KILLS.
HaTd work kills no man ; enntii is the deadly enemy of life. Gladstone blamed himself for not having induced a friend who committed suicide after a career of 'activity had abruptly terminated to Undertake a translation of a classic as an antidote to weariness. Napoleon, oppressed by Gourgaud's unhappiness in St. Helena, begged his faithful but petulant follower to translate the "Annual Register" into French. It is not the fast pace in public life but tho slow which destroys. Some one dropped iti jtipon Lord Melbourne when his official Jlife had ended. He had been sifting i counting the hours, melancholy, alono 1 If that clock had struck eeven before anyone called to see me, I should have gone mad, ' he said. The same desperate misery possessed the 6olfl of Panizzi in his deofuring days. He lived neat his Wlo^od teritisli -Museum, and. BO OS tJIS beaten track of his friends. Lord Granville- called one day ti> see him. "I hope you'll never come again," said the poor old man, whose heart was breaking for company in hie new-found idle time.— St. James's Budget.
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Evening Post, Volume LXXII, Issue 72, 22 September 1906, Page 10
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188THE PACE WHICH KILLS. Evening Post, Volume LXXII, Issue 72, 22 September 1906, Page 10
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