Such a supper--or breakfast--it will be! I can smell it now, for I know Thoreau--his fish, his birds, the tenderest steaks in the forests! I can hear Thoreau cursing because the train hasn't come, and I'll wager he's got fish and caribou tenderloin and partridges just ready for a final turn in the roaster.

What do you say?
Will you get off with me ?" "It is a tempting offer to a hungry man, Father." The Little Missioner chuckled elatedly.
"Hunger!--that's the real medicine of the gods, David, when the belt isn't drawn too tight.

If I want to know the nature and quality of a man I ask about his stomach.

Did you ever know a man who loved to eat who wasn't of a pretty decent sort?
Did you ever know of a man who loved pie--who'd go out of his way to get pie--that didn't have a heart in him bigger than a pumpkin?
I guess you didn't.

If a man's got a good stomach he isn't a grouch, and he won't stick a knife into your back; but if he eats from habit--or necessity--he isn't a beautiful character in the eyes of nature, and there's pretty sure to be a cog loose somewhere in his makeup.