Explore "One the Illness of my Muse" by Hilaire Belloc on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The other day I noticed that my Muse, who had long been ailing, / silent and morose, was showing signs of actual illness.
Now, though it is by no means one of my habits to coddle the dogs, / cats and other familiars of my household, yet my Muse had so pitiful / an appearance that I determined to send for the doctor, but not / before I had seen her to bed with a hot bottle, a good supper, and / such other comforts as the Muses are accustomed to value. All that / could be done for the poor girl was done thoroughly; a fine fire was / lit in her bedroom, and a great number of newspapers such as she is / given to reading for her recreation were bought at a neighbouring / shop. When she had drunk her wine and read in their entirety the / _Daily Telegraph_, the _Morning Post_, the _Standard_, the _Daily / Mail_, the _Daily Express_, the _Times_, the _Daily News_, and / even the _Advertiser_, I was glad to see her sink into a profound / slumber.