. Meat I never touch,—nor much vegetable diet. I wish I were in the country, to take exercise,—instead of being obliged to
cool
by abstinence, in lieu of it. I should not so much mind a little accession of flesh,—my bones can well bear it. But the worst is, the devil always came with it,—till I starved him out,—and I will
not
be the slave of
any
appetite. If I do err, it shall be my heart, at least, that heralds the way. Oh, my head—how it aches?—the horrors of digestion! I wonder how Buonaparte's dinner agrees with him?
. I must write to-morrow to "Master Shallow, who owes me a thousand pounds,"