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." "Boiled turnips!" was the answer; "you forget, Sir Richard--I told you I could not bear boiled turnips." "Then, madam," answered Sir Richard, sternly, as if his sense of the moral fitness of things was offended, "you must have a d----d vitiated appetite." Sir Richard's best set of dietetic directions consisted of the following negative advice, given to an old gentleman who put the everlasting question, "What may I eat?" "My directions, sir, are simple. You must not eat the poker, shovel, or tongs, for they are hard of digestion; nor the bellows; but anything else you please." Even to the King, Sir Richard was plain-spoken. George the Third lamented to him the restless spirit of his cousin, Dr. John Jebb, the dissenting minister. "And please your Majesty," was the answer, "if my cousin were in heaven he would be a reformer." Dr. Babington used to tell a story of an Irish gentleman, for whom he prescribed an emetic, saying, "My dear doctor, it is of no use your giving me an emetic. I tried it twice in Dublin, and it would not stay on my stomach either time." Jebb's stomach would have gone on tranquilly, even when entertaining an emetic.