Nevertheless, I tried. I lay as flat as I could, but the indisposition
persisted; in fact, it increased materially. The manner in which
my pajamas, limp and pendent from that hook, swayed and swung back
and forth became extremely distasteful to me; and if by mental
treatment I could have removed them from there I should assuredly
have done so. But that was impossible.

Along toward evening I began to think of food. I thought of it
not from its gastronomic aspect, but rather in the capacity of
ballast. I did not so much desire the taste of it as the feel of
it. So I summoned Lubly--he, at least, did not smile at me in
that patronizing, significant way--and ordered a dinner that
included nearly everything on the dinner card except Lubly's thumb.
The dinner was brought to me in relays and I ate it--ate it all!
This step I know now was ill-advised. It is true that for a short
time I felt as I imagine a python in a zoo feels when he is full
of guinea-pigs--sort of gorged, you know, and sluggish, and only
tolerably uncomfortable.

Then ensued the frightful denouement. It ensued almost without
warning. At the time I felt absolutely positive that I was seasick.
I would have sworn to it. If somebody had put a Bible on my chest
and held it there I would cheerfully have laid my right hand on
it and taken a solemn oath that I was seasick. Indeed,I believed
I was so seasick that I feared--hoped, rather--I might never
recover from it. All I desired at the moment was to get it over
with as quickly and as neatly as possible.

As in the case of drowning persons, there passed in review before
my eyes several of the more recent events of my past life--meals