It is wonderful how much the state of the stomach has to do with the moods of the mind. Indeed, the two organs seem to be inter-reactive; and I believe some physiologists now contend, with great plausibility, too, that the brain is really the digestive organ. If this theory be true, mental distress must be only another name for _dispepsia_; and—though I have seen men who ate like anacondas, when under great affliction—I am strongly inclined to endorse the speculation. At all events, Harding was “a case, or subject, in point;” for, but a few minutes before, when he was apprehending many certain and uncertain evils, from the resentment of the count, he had not the least desire for refreshment; but, on the first glimpse of hope, he had an appetite like a soldier escaped from a beleaguered city. And, no sooner was the inner man replenished, than—on the aforesaid principle of inter-reaction—his spirits rose almost to the point of absolute content. Most axioms are tautological; but none is more so than that which asserts that “man is a _strange animal_.” The word “strange” might be advantageously and conveniently left out. So thoroughly had the important act of receiving his rations reinvigorated the captive, both corporeally and mentally, that, when he resumed his walk up and down the floor, he dismissed all anxiety about his own fate, and began to speculate in reference to the condition of his fellow-prisoner, Grant. From regret that he had been compelled to strike him, his mind wandered to a more pleasing subject of contemplation—he began to long for some information about Margarita; how she was treated by the ruffian count, and, more particularly—for love is always egotistical—how she viewed _his_ captivity; and finally, whether she had not forgotten her grief for her murdered mother, in devising means of giving him his liberty. These, or such as these, are often very pleasant fancies—the misfortune is, that, in most cases, they are _only_ fancies, and are occasionally rather rudely dispelled. So it was, at all events, with Harding; for, just as he had reached that supreme apex of egotism, to which lovers so easily attain—where one’s mistress is not supposed to know that there is any thing, or anybody else in the world, about which, or whom, she _can_ think—when he was recalled to more substantial realities, by hearing the count, in loud, stern tones, giving a rapid and ominous command. “Close the gates and bar them—muster the company, with loaded muskets, and bring out the prisoners!” Such was the significant order of a man who was never known to stop at half-measures!