articles introduced into the stomach, have produced an effect somewhat analogous to the thickened cuticle resulting from the constant chafing of an ill-fitting shoe, for example,——as the intestinal tract begins to acquire something of its normal condition, there is a point when the resumption of a “generous” diet, in which the aforesaid substances figure largely, will seem to give the patient a fresh impulse healthward: they once more, perhaps, produce the laxative effects simulating that most desirable state of the bowels called “regular.” And so on to the end of the chapter, the patient, friends, and perhaps the medical adviser, are misled as to the real state of affairs, until, finally, the end approaches, and the patient who was “improving so nicely” grows worse, and, after a period of intense suffering, which weans him from all desire to live, and reconciles his friends to the change, dies. “He catched cold, it settled on his lungs, and in his weak state”——etc., etc. Speaking in round terms, the consumptive’s digestive ability is about on a par, usually, indeed, inferior to his muscular powers; and it is as irrational to expect him to digest and assimilate several meals a day, as to expect him to saw several cords of wood in the same length of time. Both are alike impossible. The fact that the food disappears, or that there is a craving for it, even, or, again, that it “seems to agree with the stomach,” does not change the case. A little food of the simplest sort may be assimilated, a little muscular exercise may be taken, and both prove curative. In common practice, however, the alimentary system is taxed to its own exhaustion and the impairment of the entire organism, while the voluntary muscular system deteriorates by reason of _non-use_ as well as from the general lack of nutrition.