"I won't," bluntly answered Sheldon, as the balloon manifested symptoms of rising.
In a furious passion, the little air-traveller exclaimed, "Then I starve you! Point du chicken, by Gar, you shall have no chicken." So saying, he flung the hamper of provisions out of the car, and, thus lightened, the balloon went up.
Abernethy is said to have reproved an over-fed alderman for his excesses at table in the following manner. The civic footman was ordered to put a large bowl under the sideboard, and of whatever he served his master with to throw the same quantity into the bowl as he put on the gourmand's plate. After the repast was at an end, the sated feaster was requested to look into the bowl at a nauseous mess of mock turtle, turbot, roast-beef, turkey, sausages, cakes, wines, ale, fruits, cheese.
Sir Richard Jebb showed little favour to the digestion thinking it was made to be used—not nursed. Habitually more rough and harsh than Abernethy in his most surly moods, Jebb offended many of his patients. "That's my way," said he to a noble invalid, astonished at his rudeness. "Then," answered the sick man, pointing to the door, "I beg you'll make that your way."
To all questions about diet Jebb would respond tetchily or carelessly.
"Pray, Sir Richard, may I eat a muffin?" asked a lady.
"Yes, madam, 'tis the best thing you can take."
"Oh, dear! Sir Richard, I am glad of that. The other day you said it was the worst thing in the world for me."
"Good, madam, I said so last Tuesday. This isn't a Tuesday—is it?"
To another lady who asked what she might eat he said contemptuously, "Boiled turnips."