{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/dun/fotd/fotd37.htm","path":"neu/dun/fotd/fotd37.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/dun/fotd/fotd37.htm","text":"Fifty-one Tales, by Lord Dunsany, [1915]\nTHE FOOD OF DEATH\nDeath was sick. But they brought him bread that the modern bakers make, whitened with alum, and the tinned meats of Chicago, with a pinch of our modern substitute for salt. They carried him into the dining-room of a great hotel (in that close atmosphere Death breathed more freely), and there they gave him their cheap Indian tea. They brought him a bottle of wine that they called champagne. Death drank it up. They brought a newspaper and looked up the patent medicines; they gave him the foods that it recommended for invalids, and a little medicine as prescribed in the paper. They gave him some milk and borax, such as children drink in England.\nDeath arose ravening, strong, and strode again through the cities.","title":"Fifty-one Tales: The Food of Death","type":"page"}