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He was old and alone, and he sat on a stone to rest for awhile from the road; His beard was white, and his eye was bright, and his wrinkles overflowed With a mild content at the way life went; and I closed the book on my knee: "I will venture a look in this living book," I thought, as he greeted me.

And I said : "My friend, have you time to spend to tell me what makes you glad?" "Oh, ay, my lad," with a smile; "I'm glad that I'm old, yet am never sad!"

"But why?" said I; and his merry eye made answer as much as his tongue; "Because," said he, "I am poor and free who was rich and a slave when young.