“I am, gentlemen,
“Yours very obediently,
“Phillip Cox.”
Doctors differ, as everybody knows; and in no opinion do they differ more than in the way children should be treated. One of the faculty will tell you that a healthy child should be allowed to eat as much as he or she likes; another advises that as grown-up people are disposed to eat a great deal more than is good for them, a boy is pretty sure to do the same unless a wholesome check is imposed upon his unruly appetite. A great authority is reported to have said that as many people are killed by over-eating as by over-drinking; “in fact,” said he, “they dig their graves with their teeth.” If that be so, the young gentleman in “Something like a Holiday” is destined for an early tomb.
Comment on this wonderful youth is needless. We can only share the alarm and astonishment so admirably expressed in the pastrycook’s face. That this awful juvenile’s memory should serve him so perfectly when he has taken such pains to cloud it, as well as every other faculty, is also surprising.
Pastrycook: “What have you had, sir?”
Boy: “I’ve had two jellies; seven of those, and eleven of these; and six of those, and four bath-buns; a sausage-roll, ten almond-cakes, and a bottle of ginger-beer.”
| “Alarming Symptoms on eating Boiled Beef and Gooseberry-Pie.” |