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, Collywobbles?" (They called me Collywobbles, 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
