It is very interesting, in an economico-physiological point of view, to mark and trace the historical changes which take place in the diet and beverages of nations. The potato came from the west, and by diffusing itself over Europe has changed the daily diet, the yearly agriculture, and the social habits of whole kingdoms. Tea came from the east, and has equally changed the drinks, the tastes, the bodily habits and cravings, and we believe also very materially the intellectual character and general mental and bodily temperament, of probably a hundred millions of men, who now consume it in Europe and America. Coffee, coming in like manner from the east, has in some countries of Europe turned domestic life, we may say, literally out of doors. The coffee-house and living in public have in France and elsewhere superseded the domestic circle and the quiet amenities of the home hearth. And now, to succeed and supersede both coffee and tea, we are ourselves in the west now growing and manufacturing chicory, which in its turn is destined materially to alter the taste, and probably to change the constitution, and thus to affect the mental habits, dispositions, and tendencies of the people who consume it. In chemical composition, and consequent physiological action upon the system, this substance differs essentially from tea and coffee, and, whether for good or for evil, it must gradually produce a change of temperament which we cannot at present specially predict,—that is to say, if the consumption spread and increase as it has done in recent years. For, little comparatively as we have yet heard of this plant in England, the European consumption of chicory, mixed and unmixed, amounts already to not much less than one hundred millions of pounds. Between Brussels and Berlin, when seen on a Sunday, much difference will strike the English traveller. He is now in a Protestant country; and though the bill-sticker announces balls and concerts, and open theatres for the evening, yet the Sunday mornings are quiet in the streets, and the bustle of business or of holiday pleasures in no offensive way obtrudes itself upon the attention. The tendency also, during the present reign, is to make the observance of the day more strict still, though there, of course, as at home, opposition shows itself, and diverse opinions prevail. Among the four hundred and sixty thousand inhabitants of Berlin, there are comparatively few Roman Catholics. Two churches and a chapel are all the places of public worship they possess; and hence the passing to and fro of priestly vestments as we walk the streets does not strike the eye here as it does in Brussels.