Hence the exact scientific study of therapeutic questions in this region still belongs to the future. But this does not exclude the probability that the newer acquirements of physiology may fruitfully influence the work of the physician. But physiology naturally can make no pretence to guide the field of medicine, since the knowledge at its disposal is incomplete and is much more restricted than that of the broad world of clinical reality. As a recompense for this, however, physiological knowledge is often able to explain the causation of an illness and the meaning of empirical curative methods. To employ a remedy the mode of action of which is not clear is quite a different thing from knowing precisely what we are doing. In the latter case the treatment of the diseased organ will be more effective because it will be better adapted to the special needs of the case. It is thus that medicine, being daily enriched by new physiological facts, will at length grow into what it ideally must become; namely, the art of repairing the damaged machinery of the human body, based upon _exact_ knowledge, or, in other words, applied physiology. We may now return to our subject. If it be at all admitted that human instinct is the outcome of an every-day experience, which has led to the unconscious adoption of the most favourable conditions for life, it is particularly so with regard to the phenomena of digestion. The expression that physiology merely confirms the precepts of instinct is justified here more than anywhere else. It appears to me also that, in relation to the foregoing facts, instinct has often made out a brilliant case when brought before the tribunal of physiology. Perhaps the old and empirical requirement, that food should be eaten with interest and enjoyment, is the most imperatively emphasised and strengthened of all. In every land the act of eating is connected with certain customs designed to distract from the business of daily life. A suitable time of day is chosen, a company of relatives, acquaintances, or comrades assemble. Certain preparations are carried out (in England a change of raiment is usually effected, and often a blessing is asked upon the meal by the oldest of the family). In the case of the well-to-do a special room for meals is set apart, musical and other guests are invited to while away the time at meals--in a word, everything is directed to take away the thoughts from the cares of daily life, and to concentrate them on the repast. From this point of view it is also plain why heated discussions and serious readings are held to be unsuitable during meal-times. Probably this also explains the use of alcoholic beverages at meals, for alcohol, even in the lighter phases of its action, induces a mild narcosis, which contributes towards distraction from the pressing burden of the daily work. Naturally this highly developed hygiene of eating is only found in the intelligent and well-to-do classes, first, because here the