'BEHOLD! My Death – premature, senseless, avoidable Death – mine, and yours, Daniel. But I hold mine in my hand. Yours is lodged thereabouts – do not flinch, I shall not lay hands on you – I wish only to demonstrate, Daniel, that thy Stone is only two inches or so from my hand when I hold it thus. My Stone is in my hand. A distance of only two inches! Yet for me that small interval amounts to thirty years of added life – three decades and God willing one or two more, of wenching, drinking, singing, and learning. I beg you to make the necessary arrangements, Daniel, and have that rock in your bladder moved two inches to your pocket, where it may lodge for another twenty or thirty years without giving you any trouble.'