ON EATING AND DRINKING.
I always was fond of eating and drinking, even as a child--especially
eating, in those early days. I had an appetite then, also a
digestion. I remember a dull-eyed, livid-complexioned gentleman
coming to dine at our house once. He watched me eating for about five
minutes, quite fascinated seemingly, and then he turned to my father
with--
"Does your boy ever suffer from dyspepsia?"
"I never heard him complain of anything of that kind," replied my
father. "Do you ever suffer from dyspepsia, Colly wobbles?" (They
called me Colly wobbles, but it was not my real name.)
"No, pa," I answered. After which I added:
"What is dyspepsia, pa?"
My livid-complexioned friend regarded me with a look of mingled
amazement and envy. Then in a tone of infinite pity he slowly said:
"You will know--some day."
My poor, dear mother used to say she liked to see me eat, and it has
always been a pleasant reflection to me since that I must have given
her much gratification in that direction. A growing, healthy lad,
taking plenty of exercise and careful to restrain himself from
indulging in too much study, can generally satisfy the most exacting
expectations as regards his feeding powers.
It is amusing to see boys eat when you have not got to pay for it.
Their idea of a square meal is a pound and a half of roast beef with
five or six good-sized potatoes (soapy ones preferred as being more
substantial), plenty of greens, and four thick slices of Yorkshire
pudding, followed by a couple of currant dumplings, a few green
apples, a pen'orth of nuts, half a dozen jumbles, and a bottle of
ginger-beer.
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