If I live
to be forty, I shall add the Lord knows how many Misfortunes to those I
have already suffered for these eight or nine Years past. There was a
Time when my Stature was not to be found fault with, tho' now 'tis of
the smallest. My Sickness has taken me shorter by a Foot. My Head is
somewhat too big, considering my Height; and my Face is full enough, in
all Conscience, for one that carries such a Skeleton of a Body about
him. I have Hair enough on my Head not to stand in need of a Peruke; and
'tis gray, too, in spite of the Proverb. My Sight is good enough, tho'
my Eyes are large; they are of a blue Colour, and one of them is sunk
deeper into my Head than the other, which was occasion'd by my leaning
on that Side. My Nose is well enough mounted. My Teeth, which in the
Days of Yore look'd like a Row of square Pearl, are now of an Ashen
Colour; and in a few Years more, will have the Complexion of a
Small-coal Man's Saturday Shirt. I have lost one Tooth and a half on the
left Side, and two and a half precisely on the right; and I have two
more that stand somewhat out of their Ranks. My Legs and Thighs, in the
first place, compose an obtuse Angle, then a right one, and lastly an
acute.
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