'As nothing goes in so thick,
And nothing comes out so thin,
It must follow, of course,
That no-thing can be worse,
As the dregs are all left within.'"
"Very well, Mr. Pendragon, very well, indeed," said Mr. Galen Cornaro,
an eccentric of the same school, but not equally averse to wine;
"'temperance is a bridle of gold; and he who uses it rightly is more
like a god than a man.' I have no objection to a cup of generous wine,
provided nature requires it--but 'simple diet,' says Pliny, 'is best;'
for many dishes bring many diseases. Do you know John Abernethy, sir? he
is the _manus dei_ of my idolatry. 'What ought I to drink?' inquired a
friend of mine of the surgeon. 'What do you give your horse, sir?' was
the question in reply. 'Water.' 'Then drink water,' said Abernethy.
After this my friend was afraid to put the question of eatables, lest
the doctor should have directed him to live on oats. 'Your modern good
fellows,' continued John, 'are only ambitious of rivalling a brewer's
horse; who after all will carry more liquor than the best of them.'
'What is good to assist a weak digestion?' said another patient. 'Weak
food and warm clothing,' was the reply; 'not, ~105~~however, forgetting
my _blue pill_.' When you have dined well, sleep well: wrap yourself up
in a warm watch-coat, and imitate your dog by basking yourself at full
length before the fire; these are a few of the Abernethy maxims for
dyspeptic patients.
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