_Cæsar._ _Would he were fatter_:--But I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius.--He reads much. He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men; _he loves no plays_ As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music, Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mocked himself, and scorned his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart’s ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.” Even experience must have taught every one with what zest we sit down to enjoy the pleasures of the table, and how largely we incline to eat, when the mind is free, unburdened, and joyous, compared with the little attention we bestow on our meals when we are overwhelmed with anxiety, or have the whole energies of the mind concentrated on some important scheme. There cannot be a doubt, indeed, that the over-exertion and excitement, or absolute inertness, of mind, in which sedentary people are generally immersed, contributes greatly, along with the want of muscular exercise in the open air, to impair the tone of the digestive organs. In this way, as it is not less justly than forcibly remarked by Dr Caldwell, “dyspepsia _commences_ perhaps as often in the brain as in the stomach. Possibly oftener. That this is true of the disease in Europe will scarcely be denied, after a fair examination of the facts connected with it. It is there almost exclusively a complaint of the studious and the scheming, who, over-tasking their brains, injure them by toil. Among the husbandmen of England, who steadily pursue their tranquil mode of life, regardless of the fluctuations of stock, the bickerings of party, the fate of political measures, and the changes of place, dyspepsia is almost a stranger.” “In the cities, the same is in a great measure true of merchants, manufacturers, and mechanics, who are engaged in a regular and well established business, which is fully understood by them, where the risk is slight and the profits sure, and no disquieting anxiety attends it. Such individuals have a good digestion, and bear the marks of it. But with literary men, officers of state, dealers in scrip, daring adventurers, and anxious and ambitious projectors of improvements, with these and every other brain-worn class of persons, the case is different. Dyspepsia is their torment, and they exhibit deep traces of it in their lean frames and hagard countenances. Yet are they much more select in their diet, both as respects quantity, quality, and cooking, than the classes to whom dyspepsia is unknown. This fact is notorious, and has been so for centuries. Nor can it be attributed, I think, to any other cause but excessive and deleterious cerebral irritation in the one case, and an exemption from it in the other; and this cause seems sufficient to