I always was fond of eating and drinking, even as a child--especiallyeating, in those early days. I had an appetite then, also adigestion. I remember a dull-eyed, livid-complexioned gentlemancoming to dine at our house once. He watched me eating for about fiveminutes, quite fascinated seemingly, and then he turned to my fatherwith--"Does your boy ever suffer from dyspepsia?""I never heard him complain of anything of that kind," replied myfather. "Do you ever suffer from dyspepsia, Colly wobbles?" (Theycalled 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 mingledamazement 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 hasalways been a pleasant reflection to me since that I must have givenher much gratification in that direction. A growing, healthy lad,taking plenty of exercise and careful to restrain himself fromindulging in too much study, can generally satisfy the most exactingexpectations 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 withfive or six good-sized potatoes (soapy ones preferred as being moresubstantial), plenty of greens, and four thick slices of Yorkshirepudding, followed by a couple of currant dumplings, a few greenapples, a pen'orth of nuts, half a dozen jumbles, and a bottle ofginger-beer. After that they play at horses.
How they must despise us men, who require to sit quiet for a couple ofhours after dining off a spoonful of clear soup and the wing of achicken!
But the boys have not all the advantages on their side. A boy neverenjoys the luxury of being satisfied. A boy never feels full. He cannever stretch out his legs, put his hands behind his head, and,closing his eyes, sink into the ethereal blissfulness that encompassesthe well-dined man. A dinner makes no difference whatever to a boy.
To a man it is as a good fairy's potion, and after it the worldappears a brighter and a better place. A man who has dinedsatisfactorily experiences a yearning love toward all hisfellow-creatures. He strokes the cat quite gently and calls it "poorpussy," in tones full of the tenderest emotion. He sympathizes withthe members of the German band outside and wonders if they are cold;and for the moment he does not even hate his wife's relations.
A good dinner brings out all the softer side of a man. Under itsgenial influence the gloomy and morose become jovial and chatty.
Sour, starchy individuals, who all the rest of the day go aboutlooking as if they lived on vinegar and Epsom salts, break out intowreathed smiles after dinner, and exhibit a tendency to pat smallchildren on the head and to talk to them--vaguely--about sixpences.
Serious men thaw and become mildly cheerful, and snobbish young men ofthe heavy-mustache type forget to make themselves objectionable.
I always feel sentimental myself after dinner. It is the only timewhen I can properly appreciate love-stories. Then, when the heroclasps "her" to his heart in one last wild embrace and stifles a sob,I feel as sad as though I had dealt at whist and turned up only adeuce; and when the heroine dies in the end I weep. If I read thesame tale early in the morning I should sneer at it. Digestion, orrather indigestion, has a marvelous effect upon the heart. If I wantto write any thing very pathetic--I mean, if I want to try to writeanything very pathetic--I eat a large plateful of hot buttered muffinsabout an hour beforehand, and then by the time I sit down to my work afeeling of unutterable melancholy has come over me. I pictureheartbroken lovers parting forever at lonely wayside stiles, while thesad twilight deepens around them, and only the tinkling of a distantsheep-bell breaks the sorrow-laden silence. Old men sit and gaze atwithered flowers till their sight is dimmed by the mist of tears.
Little dainty maidens wait and watch at open casements; but "he comethnot," and the heavy years roll by and the sunny gold tresses wearwhite and thin. The babies that they dandled have become grown menand women with podgy torments of their own, and the playmates thatthey laughed with are lying very silent under the waving grass. Butstill they wait and watch, till the dark shadows of the unknown nightsteal up and gather round them and the world with its childishtroubles fades from their aching eyes.
I see pale corpses tossed on white-foamed waves, and death-bedsstained with bitter tears, and graves in trackless deserts. I hearthe wild wailing of women, the low moaning of little children, the drysobbing of strong men. It's all the muffins. I could not conjure upone melancholy fancy upon a mutton chop and a glass of champagne.
A full stomach is a great aid to poetry, and indeed no sentiment ofany kind can stand upon an empty one. We have not time or inclinationto indulge in fanciful troubles until we have got rid of our realmisfortunes. We do not sigh over dead dicky-birds with the bailiff inthe house, and when we do not know where on earth to get our nextshilling from, we do not worry as to whether our mistress' smiles arecold, or hot, or lukewarm, or anything else about them.
Foolish people--when I say "foolish people" in this contemptuous way Imean people who entertain different opinions to mine. If there is oneperson I do despise more than another, it is the man who does notthink exactly the same on all topics as I do--foolish people, I say,then, who have never experienced much of either, will tell you thatmental distress is far more agonizing than bodily. Romantic andtouching theory! so comforting to the love-sick young sprig who looksdown patronizingly at some poor devil with a white starved face andthinks to himself, "Ah, how happy you are compared with me!"--sosoothing to fat old gentlemen who cackle about the superiority ofpoverty over riches. But it is all nonsense--all cant. An achinghead soon makes one forget an aching heart. A broken finger willdrive away all recollections of an empty chair. And when a man feelsreally hungry he does not feel anything else.
We sleek, well-fed folk can hardly realize what feeling hungry islike. We know what it is to have no appetite and not to care for thedainty victuals placed before us, but we do not understand what itmeans to sicken for food--to die for bread while others waste it--togaze with famished eyes upon coarse fare steaming behind dingywindows, longing for a pen'orth of pea pudding and not having thepenny to buy it--to feel that a crust would be delicious and that abone would be a banquet.
Hunger is a luxury to us, a piquant, flavor-giving sauce. It is wellworth while to get hungry and thirsty merely to discover how muchgratification can be obtained from eating and drinking. If you wishto thoroughly enjoy your dinner, take a thirty-mile country walk afterbreakfast and don't touch anything till you get back. How your eyeswill glisten at sight of the white table-cloth and steaming dishesthen! With what a sigh of content you will put down the empty beertankard and take up your knife and fork! And how comfortable you feelafterward as you push back your chair, light a cigar, and beam roundupon everybody.
Make sure, however, when adopting this plan, that the good dinner isreally to be had at the end, or the disappointment is trying. Iremember once a friend and I--dear old Joe, it was. Ah! how we loseone another in life's mist. It must be eight years since I last sawJoseph Taboys. How pleasant it would be to meet his jovial faceagain, to clasp his strong hand, and to hear his cheery laugh oncemore! He owes me 14 shillings, too. Well, we were on a holidaytogether, and one morning we had breakfast early and started for atremendous long walk. We had ordered a duck for dinner over night.
We said, "Get a big one, because we shall come home awfully hungry;"and as we were going out our landlady came up in great spirits. Shesaid, "I have got you gentlemen a duck, if you like. If you getthrough that you'll do well;" an............