Breakfast.
Bowl of oatmeal porridge.
Plenty of sweet milk.
That’s All.
Dinner.
Please yourself. That is none of my business.
Supper.
Bowl of oatmeal porridge.
Plenty of sweet milk.
That’s All.
After supper you can go to bed and sleep like a top, and in the morning you will get up feeling tip top. J. R. G.
Tennessee Industrial School, Nashville, Tenn.
Jauary, 1918.
When Dr. Samuel Johnson, the lexicographer, vented his unaccountable spleen against the Scotch people by defining “oatmeal” as “food for English horses and Scottish men,” he exposed himself to the witty retort. “And where will you find finer horses or better men.” Thomas Carlyle tells us that on one occasion, during a visit he paid to Lord Ashburton, at the Grange, he caught sight of Macauley’s face in unwonted repose, as he was turning over the pages of a book. “I noticed,” said he, “the homely Norse features, that you find everywhere in the Western Isles, and I thought to myself; well, any one can see that you are an honest good sort of a fellow, made out of oatmeal.”