[73] Those who themselves know better, smile to read such passages as the following, which is to be found in old Gerard’s ‘Herbal’:—“Galen affirms that they (_i. e._ funguses) are all very cold and moist, and therefore do approach unto a venomous and mothering facultie, and engender a clammy and pituitous nutriment; if eaten, therefore, I give my advice unto those that love such strange and new-fangled meates, to beware of licking honey among thorns, lest the sweetnesse of the one do not countervaille the sharpnesse and pricking of the other.” [74] A life of labour, no doubt, will make the sorriest fare sit more lightly on the healthy stomach, than the most dainty viands which have been received into an organ that is weakened and goaded by a life of dissipation and excess; but this does not prove sorry fare to be more wholesome than that of a richer kind. No! Dyspepsia is a disease of the rich; not because they live upon the fat of the land, but plainly because they indulge in too large a quantity at a meal. Let the peasant and the lord change places for a week; place the healthy rustic at the rich man’s table, and Dives again at the other board, what would be the results to both? Would not the poor man, think you, find indigestion in ragoût, fricassees, truffles, with light wine _ad libitum_ to drink with them? and would not the rich man find that the fat pork and hard beer were worse poison than any of the made-dishes, against which he has been so lavish in his blame? In general, no doubt, to be “the happiest of mortals—to digest well” (Voltaire), men should look more to the _quantum_ and less to the _quale_ of what they eat; but they should pay some attention to this too. [75] Ἢν δὲ πάντα ὅμοια ποιήσῃ οὐκ ἔχει τέρψιν. Π.Δ. Α. 10. [76] That I did not always hold such an opinion as the above, to which I have since given in my adhesion, the following ode to Eupepsia, written in the days of theoretical inexperience, will sufficiently testify. I am now convinced that Hippocrates was right!— Happy the man whose prudent care Plain boiled and roast discreetly bound; Content to feed on homely fare, On British ground! Sound sleep renounces _sugared_ peas!— No nightmares haunt the modest ration Of tender steak, that yields with ease To mastication! From stews and steams that round them play, How many a tempting dish would floor us, Had nature made no toll to pay At the pylorus! He dines unscathed, who dines _alone_! Or shuns abroad those _corner_ dishes; No Roman garlics make him groan, Nor matelotte fishes. Then let not Vérey’s treacherous skill, Nor Véfour’s, try thy peptic forces; One comes to swallow many a pill Where many a course is! With _mushroomed_ dishes cease to strive; Nor for that _truffled crime_ inquire, Which nails the hapless goose alive, At Strasburg’s fire.