How good one feels when one is full - how satisfied with ourselves and
with the world!
People who have tried it, tell me that a clear
conscience makes you very happy and contented; but a full stomach does
the business quite as well, and is cheaper, and more easily obtained.
One feels so forgiving and generous after a substantial and well-digested
meal - so noble-minded, so kindly-hearted.
It is very strange, this domination of our intellect by our digestive
organs. We cannot work, we cannot think, unless our stomach wills so.
It dictates to us our emotions, our passions. After eggs and bacon, it
says, "Work!" After beefsteak and porter, it says, "Sleep!" After a cup
of tea (two spoonsful for each cup, and don't let it stand more than
three minutes), it says to the brain, "Now, rise, and show your strength.
Be eloquent, and deep, and tender; see, with a clear eye, into Nature and
into life; spread your white wings of quivering thought, and soar, a god-
like spirit, over the whirling world beneath you, up through long lanes
of flaming stars to the gates of eternity!"
After hot muffins, it says, "Be dull and soulless, like a beast of the
field - a brainless animal, with listless eye, unlit by any ray of fancy,
or of hope, or fear, or love, or life." And after brandy, taken in
sufficient quantity, it says, "Now, come, fool, grin and tumble, that
your fellow-men may laugh - drivel in folly, and splutter in senseless
sounds, and show what a helpless ninny is poor man whose wit and will are
drowned, like kittens, side by side, in half an inch of alcohol."
We are but the veriest, sorriest slaves of our stomach. Reach not after
morality and righteousness, my friends; watch vigilantly your stomach,
and diet it with care and judgment. Then virtue and contentment will
come and reign within your heart, unsought by any effort of your own; and
you will be a good citizen, a loving husband, and a tender father - a
noble, pious man.
Before our supper, Harris and George and I were quarrelsome and snappy
and ill-tempered; after our supper, we sat and beamed on one another, and
we beamed upon the dog, too. We loved each other, we loved everybody.
Harris, in moving about, trod on George's corn. Had this happened before
supper, George would have expressed wishes and desires concerning
Harris's fate in this world and the next that would have made a
thoughtful man shudder.
As it was, he said: "Steady, old man; `ware wheat."
And Harris, instead of merely observing, in his most unpleasant tones,
that a fellow could hardly help treading on some bit of George's foot, if
he had to move about at all within ten yards of where George was sitting,
suggesting that George never ought to come into an ordinary sized boat
with feet that length, and advising him to hang them over the side, as he
would have done before supper, now said:
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