The young man applied to the manager of the entertainment museum for employment as a freak, and the following dialogue occurred:
“Who are you?”
“I am Enoch, the egg king.”
“What is your specialty?”
“I eat three dozen hen’s eggs, two dozen duck eggs, and one dozen goose eggs, at a single setting.”
“Do you know our program?”
“What is it?”
“We give four shows every day.”
“Oh, yes, I understand that.”
“And do you think you can do it?”
“I know I can.”
“On Saturdays we give six shows.”
“All right.”
“On holidays we usually give a performance every hour.”
And now, at last, the young man showed signs of doubt.
“In that case, I must have one thing understood before I’d be willing to sign a contract.”
“What?”
“No matter what the rush of business is in the show, you’ve got to give me time to go to the hotel to eat my regular meals.”
* * *
Daniel Webster was the guest at dinner of a solicitous hostess who insisted rather annoyingly that he was eating nothing at all, that he had no appetite, that he was not making out a meal. Finally, Webster wearied of her hospitable chatter, and addressed her in his most ponderous senatorial manner:
“Madam, permit me to assure you that I sometimes eat more than at other times, but never less.”
* * *
It was shortly after Thanksgiving Day that someone asked the little boy to define the word appetite. His reply was prompt and enthusiastic:
“When you’re eating you’re ‘appy; and when you get through you’re tight—that’s appetite!”