Mr Editor, did you ever try to cook for a lady what requires nothing to eat but hard tack & beef tea? Such work might be easy, but it ain’t. Supplying her with meals were like feeding canned vacuum to camels--light work, but deliciously scientific. Hon. Mr Bobb, who was thin and red headed like a match, could eat a banquet multiplied by three each day and appear just as wirey as before. Foods make him thinner, so he require it continuously. Therefore, I must cook very lopsided meals for them Bobbs to eat it. For dinner-eat Hon. Bobbs absorb veal stew containing potatus, fricaseed gravy, hot buns & beans of great wealth. But Hon. Mrs Bobbs give me strick orders to serve her only bowl of soupless broth with plate of very hard tack. “I appreciate bravery of soldiers,” she say, eating with gnaws. “Why should it?” reply her husband. “Because,” she wep, “after eating hard tack for 1 week I should be willing to die for Country or anything else.” For dessert Hon. Mr had a minced pie while Hon. Mrs had a hysteric. When Hon. Mr seen this noise he run to telephone and report. “Oh Dr, Dr!” he holla, “Hon. Mrs have got one hysteric!” “So glad to hear!” rejoint Hon. Medicine with smiling voice. “Grief are a great reducer.” Hon. Mrs took walking exercise every morning from 9 o’clock until she got back. In this promenade she resemble elephants marching in Siamese funeral--each footstep seemed to go in front of the other with sorry expression of great weight. When she return back she set down in parlour attempting to deceive herself into staying awake. “Your lunching are prepared on table,” I pronounce with servant voice. “Please do not call beef tea lunching!” she snib like a cross stork. She set down and et hard tack with extreme desolation. After lunching she go groanfully to upstairs side. Pretty soonly I hear plaster and other brick-a-brack falling amidst considerable earthquake, so I know Hon. Mrs was rolling her figure over the carpet. After 2 complete weeks of this hygiene had went by, Hon. Bobbs come home one night with scales for weighing coal. “Now we shall observe how much you have subtracted by efforts,” he negotiate cheerly. “I am so wasted away I can scarcely jump,” she mone. She step to scales which throw up their arms with loudy clatter when she got on. Hon. Bobbs hang considerable 100 lbs of iron to Hon. Scales before he could strike a balance. At lastly Mrs Madam was weighed. “Dearie,” report Hon. Husband with voice, “You have not suffered all for vain. You have lost exactly ½ lb!” She fainted all over him. Mr. Editor, there are nothing more injurious to life than doing what is good for us. Folks seeking health are considerable insurance risk. Dutiful persons is nearly always cross, and dypsepia are the favourits pastime of folks what never do no harm to their interior stomachs.