Medical authorities recommend a glass of water taken the first thing upon rising, either hot or cold as suits one best. A little lemon-juice takes the “flat” taste from plain hot water, and clear, cool water, not iced, needs nothing at all. This simple observance of a very obvious hygienic rule will temper the tempestuous morning for any one. One washes his face, his hands, his body—then why not his stomach, which has worked hard a large part of the night, and is earnestly desirous of the soothing refreshment of a bath?
To those carping critics who cavil at the appearance of the stomach in a chapter entitled “How to Set the Table,” we need only say that the table is set for the stomach, and the stomach should be set for the table, and anyway, it comes very near being a table of contents, n’est-ce pas?
THE KITCHEN RUBAIYAT
Wake, for the Alarm Clock scatters into Flight
The variegated Nightmares of the Night;
Allures the Gas into the Kitchen Range
And pleads for Rolls and Muffins that are Light.
Before the Splendor of the last Dream died
Methought a Voice from out my Doorway cried:
“When all the Breakfast is Prepared for him
Why doth my lord within his Crib abide?”
And, as the cat Purred, she who was Before
Within the Kitchen shouted: “Guard the Door!
Else this new Bridget will have Flown the Coop
And, once Departed, will Return no More!”
All maids in sight the Wise One gladly Hires
And one of them she Presently acquires,
Yet toward the Bureau does not fail to Look
Because all Maids, as well as Men, are liars.
For Mary Ann has gone, with all her Woes,
And Dinah, too, has fled—where, no one knows,
But still a Bridget from the Bureau comes
And many a Tekla of her Reference blows.
Come, fill the Cup, and let the Kettle Sing!
The Cream and Sugar and Hot Water bring!
Methinks this fragrant liquid amber here
Within the Pot, is pretty much the Thing.