All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified　time to live. Sometimes it was as long as a year, sometimes as short as 24 hours. But　always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed hero chose to spend his　last days or his last hours. I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not　condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.

　　Such stories set us thinking, wondering　what we should do under similar　circumstances. What events, what experiences, what associations should we crowd into　those last hours as mortal beings? What happiness should we find in reviewing the past,　what regrets?

　　Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we　should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We　should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are　often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and　months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the Epicurean　motto of

　　―Eat, drink, and be merry,― but most people would be chastened by the certainty　of impending death.　In stories the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of　fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed. he becomes more appreciative　of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It has often been noted that those　who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything　they do.

　　Most of us, however, take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but　usually we picture that day as far in the future. When we are in buoyant health, death is all　but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we　go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.　The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes　the use of all our faculties and　senses. Only the deaf appreciate　hearing, only the　blind realize the manifold　blessings　that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and　hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing　seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all　sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation. It is the same　old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not being conscious of　health until we are ill.

　　I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind　and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life. Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would teach him the joys of sound.