Among the active octogenarians of the United States there is none more beloved or distinguished than the Rev. Dr. Theodore L. Cuyler of Brooklyn, New York. He has lived a great life. He is still living a life that is making history. For thirty years he was pastor of Lafayette Avenue Presbyterian Church in Brooklyn, and in 1890 he resigned to enter a ministry at large. In evangelism, temperance, and philanthropy, his work has been remarkably successful.

Dr. Cuyler's life has been unusually fruitful and active; and in his eighty-third year he is still full of personal sympathy and personal service. He has written upwards of twenty books, and his special articles published in leading religious papers number about four thou sand, many of which have been rendered into foreign languages.

When I asked Dr. Cuyler for a few lines on "Growing Old and Keeping Young," he kindly sent me the remaining part of this chapter, which was originally prepared at the request of a London publisher. It is characteristic of the doctor, and will be read with deep interest:

"Old" is a relative term after all. I have known people who were rather pitiably old at fifty; and when I met that swift-footed Christian, William E. Dodge (senior), at the age of seventy-five, with the brisk gait of a boy and with scarcely a grey hair on his head, I said to him, "You are one of the youngest men in New York."

How to keep young - that is the problem; and it is a vitally important problem, for it really means how to make the most of life, and to bring in the largest revenue of service for the Master.

Healthy heredity counts for a great deal. Longevity runs in certain clean-lived families. For example, that stalwart philanthropist, Neal Dow, alert at ninety-two, told me that his Quaker father reached ninety-four, his grandfather eighty-five, and his great-grandfather ninety.

Such inherited vigor is a capital to start with, and not to be wasted. On the other hand, one of the most atrocious of crimes is that committed by some parents, who not only shorten their own days, but make long life an impossibility to their offspring.

Supposing that a man has a fairly good and unmortgaged constitution to start with, there are several practices and methods to ward off the infirmities of a premature old age.

The first and most important is - to keep the commandments. Our Creator has written certain laws on our mortal bodies - laws as irrepealable as those written on the stone tables of Sinai; laws for the breach of which Jesus Christ has made no atonement. To squander vital resources by violating these laws, or even by neglecting them, is an unpardonable sin.

There are suicides in Christian churches - yes, in some Christian pulpits! Rigid care as to a digestible diet does not mean fussiness. It means a clear head, clean blood, and a chance of longevity. Stimulants are dangerous just in proportion as they become indispensable. Hard brain-work, hearty eating, and no physical exercise are the short road to a minister's grave. That famous patriarch of the New England pulpit, Dr. Nathaniel Emmons, who was vig orous at ninety-five, used to say, "I always get up from the table a little hungry." The all-comprehensive rule of diet is very simple - whatever harms more than helps, let alone. Wilful dyspepsia is an abomination to the Lord.

A second essential to a healthy longevity is the repair of our resources by sound and sufficient sleep. Insomnia is worse than any of the plagues of Egypt; it kills a man or woman by inches. How much sleep is absolutely necessary to bodily vigor must be left to Nature. She will tell you if you don't fool with her. "Burning the midnight oil" commonly means burning up life before your time. Morning is the time for work; one hour before noon is worth five after sunset.

When a man who has as much strain on his brain and on his nervous sensibilities as most ministers have goes to his bedroom, he should school himself to the habit of dismissing all thought about outside matters. If he has difficulty in doing this, he should pray for divine help to do it. This suggestion is applicable to hard-worked business men and to care-laden wives and housekeepers as it is to ministers or brain-workers of any profession.

That wonderful physical and mental phe nomenon of this century, Mr. Gladstone, once told me that he had made it a rule to lock every affair of State and every other care outside of his bedroom door. To this excellent habit he attributed his sound sleep, and to his refreshing sleep he largely attributed his vigorous longevity. Paddy's rule is a good one - "When you slape, pay attintion to it." Personally, I may remark that it is to a full quota of slumber at night and a brief nap after a noon meal that I owe fifty-six years of steady work without a single Sunday on a sickbed.

To keep young, every man or woman should endeavor to graduate their labors according to their age. After three score and ten lighten up the loads. It is over-work that wears out life; just as it is the driving of a horse after he is tired that hurts him and shortens his days. But while excess of labor is injurious to the old, an entire cessation from all labor is still worse. A work less life is commonly a worthless life. If a minister lays off the burdens of the pastorate, let him keep the tools sharp by a ministry-at-large with pen and tongue. When a merchant or tradesman retires from business for himself, let him serve the public, or aid Christ's cause by enlisting in enterprises of philanthropy.

Rust has been the ruin of many a bright intellect. The celebrated Dr. Archibald Alexander, of the Princeton Theological Seminary, kept young by doing a certain amount of intellectual work every day so that he should not lose his touch. He was as full of sap on the day before his death as he was when missionary in Virginia at the age of two-and-twenty. He prepared and often used a prayer that was so beautiful that I quote a portion of it for my fellow disciples whose life-clock has struck three score and ten:

"O most merciful God, cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not if my strength faileth. May my hoary head be found in righteousness. Preserve my mind from dotage and imbecility, and my body from protracted disease and excruciating pain. Deliver me from despondency in my declining years, and enable me to bear with patience whatever may be Thy holy will. I humbly ask that my reason may be continued to the last; and that I may be so comforted and supported that I may have my testimony in favor of the reality of religion and of Thy faithfulness in fulfilling Thy gracious promises. And when my spirit leaves this clay tenement, Lord Jesus receive it! Send some of the blessed angels to convoy my inexperienced soul to the mansions which Thy love has prepared: and oh, may I have an abundant entrance ministered unto me into the Kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."

This beautiful petition flooded his closing years with sweet peace and a strength unbroken to the last.

A sore temptation to the aged is a tendency to querulousness and pessimism. Losses are unduly lamented, and gains are not duly recognized. While we cherish and cling to many of the things that are old, and are all the better for having been tested, let us not seek to put our eyes in the back of our heads and live only in the past. Keep step with the times; keep sympathy with young hearts; keep in touch with every new-born enterprise of charity, and in line with the marchings of God's providence. A ten minutes of chat or play with a grandchild may freshen you more than an hour spent with an old companion or over an old book.

If life is spent in God's service, its later years may be well described in the quaint Scotch version of the 92d Psalm:

And in old age when others fade

They fruit still forth shall bring;

They shall be fat, and full of sap,

And aye be flourishing.