The million or so of cells of which I am composed are not at all anxious to throw any extra nourishment off,--sometimes they intimate a strong desire to take some extra nourishment in--but that is an uneducated tendency in them which I sternly repress.

I tell all those small grovelling cells that extra nourishment would not be good for them.

And they shrink back from my moral reproof ashamed of themselves--and become wiry instead of fatty.
Which is as it should be." "You're a queer chap!" said Helmsley, with a laugh.
"Think so?
Well, I daresay I am--all Scotsmen are.

There's always the buzzing of the bee in our bonnets.

I come of an ancient Highland stock who were certainly 'queer' as modern ways go,--for they were famous for their pride, and still more famous for their poverty all the way through.