Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow ye diet.—William Gilmore Beymer.
There was a young lady named Perkins,
Who had a great fondness for gherkins;
She went to a tea
And ate twenty-three,
Which pickled her internal workin's.
"Mother," asked the little one, on the occasion of a number of guests being present at dinner, "will the dessert hurt me, or is there enough to go round?"
The doctor told him he needed carbohydrates, proteids, and above all, something nitrogenous. The doctor mentioned a long list of foods for him to eat. He staggered out and wabbled into a Penn avenue restaurant.
"How about beefsteak?" he asked the waiter. "Is that nitrogenous?"
The waiter didn't know.
"Are fried potatoes rich in carbohydrates or not?"
The waiter couldn't say.
"Well, I'll fix it," declared the poor man in despair. "Bring me a large plate of hash."
A Colonel, who used to assert
That naught his digestion could hurt,
Was forced to admit
That his weak point was hit
When they gave him hot shot for dessert.
To abstain that we may enjoy is the epicurianism of reason.—Rousseau.
They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.—Shakespeare.
The young lady, who was something of a food fadist, was on a visit to a coast fishing village. She questioned her host as to the general diet of the natives, and was told that they subsisted almost entirely on fish. The girl protested:
"But fish is a brain food, and these folks are really the most unintelligent-looking that I ever saw."
"Mebbe so," the host agreed. "And just think what they'd look like if they didn't eat fish!"