These statements, I am aware, are contrary to the received and current opinion; but that they are true, can be proved, not by one person merely,--though if that person were to be entirely relied on, his positive affirmation would outweigh a thousand _negative_ testimonies,--but by many hundreds. It is more generally supposed that he who confines himself to a simple diet, soon brings his stomach into such a state that the slightest departure from his usual habits for once only, produces serious inconveniences; and this indeed is urged as an argument against simplicity itself. Yet, how strange! How much more natural to suppose that the more perfect the health of the stomach, the better it will bear, for a time, with slight or even serious departures from truth and nature! How much more natural to suppose that perfect health is the very best defence against all the causes which tend to invite or to provoke disease! And what it would be natural to infer, is proved by experience to be strictly true. The thorough-going vegetable-eater can make a meal for once, or perhaps feed for a day or so, on substances which would almost kill many others; and can do so with comparative impunity. He can make a whole meal of cheese, cabbage, fried pudding, fried dough-nuts, etc., etc.; and if it be not in remarkable excess, he will feel no immediate inconvenience, unless from the mental conviction that he must pay the full penalty at some distant day. I repeat it, the appetite of the vegetable-eater, if true to his principles, and temperate in regard to quantity, is always, at all moments of his life, perfect. To be sure, he is not always _hungry_. Hunger, indeed, as I have already intimated--what most people call hunger, a morbid sensation, or gnawing--is unknown to him. But there is scarce a moment of his life, at least, when he is awake, in which he could not enjoy the pleasures of eating, even the coarsest viands, with a high relish; provided, however, he knew it was _proper_ for him to eat. Nor is his appetite fickle, demanding this or that particular article, and disconcerted if it cannot be obtained. It is satisfied with any thing to which the judgment directs; and though gratified, in a high degree, with dainties, when nothing better and more wholesome cannot be obtained, never demanding them in a peremptory manner. The vegetable-eater has a more quiet, happy, and perfect digestion than the flesh-eater. On this point there has been much mistake, even among physiologists. Richerand and many others suppose that a degree of constitutional disturbance is indispensable during the process of digestion; and some have even said that the system was subjected at every meal--nay, at every healthy meal--to a species of miniature fever. The remarks of Richerand are as follows. I have slightly abridged them, but have not altered the sense: