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Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
36
You
and
I
and
the
rest
of
us--even
if
we
know
all
this--as
soon
as
we
have
a
pain
within
us,
rush
for
a
doctor
as
fast
as
a
hack
can
take
us.
Yes,
personally,
I
even
prefer
an
ambulance
with
a
bell
on
it.
It's
more
soothing.
The
New
Food
I
see
from
the
current
columns
of
the
daily
press
that
"Professor
Plumb,
of
the
University
of
Chicago,
has
just
invented
a
highly
concentrated
form
of
food.
All
the
essential
nutritive
elements
are
put
together
in
the
form
of
pellets,
each
of
which
contains
from
one
to
two
hundred
times
as
much
nourishment
as
an
ounce
of
an
ordinary
article
of
diet.
These
pellets,
diluted
with
water,
will
form
all
that
is
necessary
to
support
life.
The
professor
looks
forward
confidently
to
revolutionizing
the
present
food
system."
Now
this
kind
of
thing
may
be
all
very
well
in
its
way,
but
it
is
going
to
have
its
drawbacks
as
well.
In
the
bright
future
anticipated
by
Professor
Plumb,
we
can
easily
imagine
such
incidents
as
the
following:
The
smiling
family
were
gathered
round
the
hospitable
board.
The
table
was
plenteously
laid
with
a
soup-plate
in
front
of
each
beaming
child,
a
bucket
of
hot
water
before
the
radiant
mother,
and
at
the
head
of
the
board
the
Christmas
dinner
of
the
happy
home,
warmly
covered
by
a
thimble
and
resting
on
a
poker
chip.
The
expectant
whispers
of
the
little
ones
were
hushed
as
the
father,
rising
from
his
chair,
lifted
the
thimble
and
disclosed
a
small
pill
of
concentrated
nourishment
on
the
chip
before
him.
Christmas
turkey,
cranberry
sauce,
plum
pudding,
mince
pie--it
was
all
there,
all
jammed
into
that
little
pill
and
only
waiting
to
expand.
Then
the
father
with
deep
reverence,
and
a
devout
eye
alternating
between
the
pill
and
heaven,
lifted
his
voice
in
a
benediction.
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