“Manifold, we will have a great day on Thursday.” “Great!” exclaimed Manifold, who in addition to his other stupidities, was as deaf as a post; “great--eh? What size will it be?” “What size will it be? Why, confound it, man, don't you know what I'm saying?” “No, I don't--yes, I do--you are talking about something great. O, I know now--your toe you mean--where the gout lies. They say, it begins at the great toe, and goes up to the stomach. I suppose Alexander the Great was gouty and got his name from that.” “I'm talking of the great dinner we're I to have on Thursday,” shouted Topertoe. “We'll have a splendid feed then, my famous old trencherman, and I'll take care that Doctor Doolittle shall not stint you.” “There won't be any toast and water--eh?” “Devil a mouthful; and we are to have the celebrated Cooke, the Pythagorean.” “Ay, but is he a good cook?” “He's the celebrated Pythagorean, I tell you.” “Pythagorean--what's that? I thought you said he was a cook. Does he understand venison properly? O, good Lord! what a life I'm leading! Toast and water--toast and water. But it's all the result of this famine. And yet they know I'm wealthy. I say, what's this your name is?” “Never mind that--an old acquaintance. Hell and torments! what's this? O!” “The weather's pleasant, Topertoe. I say, Topertoe, what's this your name is?” “O! O!” exclaimed Topertoe, who felt one or two desperate twinges of his prevailing malady; “curse me, Manifold, but I think I would exchange with you; your complaint is an easy one compared to mine. You are a mere block, and will pop off without pain, instead of being racked like a soul in perdition as I am.” “Your soul in perdition--well I suppose it will. But don't groan and scream so--you I are not there yet; when you are you will have plenty of time to groan and scream. As for myself, I will be likely to sleep it out there. I think, by the way, I had the pleasure of knowing you before; your face is familiar to me. What's this you call the man that attends sick people?” “A doctor. O! O! Hell and torments! what is this? Yes, a doctor. O! O!” “Ay, a doctor. Confound me, but I think my head's going around like a top. Yes, a--a--a--a doctor. Well, the doctor says that I and Parson Topertoe led a nice life of it--one a glutton and the other a drunkard. Do you know Topertoe? Because if you don't I do. He is a damned scoundrel, and squeezed his tithes out of the people with pincers of blood.” “Manifold, your gluttony has brought you to a fine pass. Are you alive or not?” “Eh? Curse all dry toast and water! But it's all the consequence of this year of famine. Pray, sir, what do you eat?” “Beef, mutton, venison, fowl, ham, turbot, salmon, black sole, with all the proper and corresponding sauces and condiments.”