That fact has been taken notice of by some who frequently deal with matters of the highest interest. They saw that a man with a good bellyful was very different from a fasting man; that the table formed a sort of common ground between hosts and guests, rendering the latter more susceptible to certain impressions and influences. Hence arose political gastronomy, by which banquets become a means of government, and frequently decide the fate of nations.

The previous observation is by no means a novelty, much less a paradox. Open any historian, from Herodotus to the most recent, and you will see how it was always at banquets that great events of every kind, including even conspiracies, have been first thought of, planned and determined upon. Such, roughly sketched, is the domain of gas

Academy

tronomy-a domain rich in results of every of Gastro- kind, and which cannot but extend with nomy. the labours and discoveries of science. Nay, in a few years, gastronomy must have its academicians, its courses of study, its professors and its prizes.

First of all, some enthusiastic and wealthy gastronome will hold periodical meetings at his house, where men learned in the theory will join others skilled in the art, in order to discuss and investi

gate all the details of alimentary science. Thereupon, as in the history of all the academies, government will take the matter up, and by organizing, protecting, and establishing the institution, make some compensation to the nation for so many children orphaned by the cannon, and for the tears of so many wives and mothers. Happy the man of influence whose name is to be associated with that important foundation !—a name to be repeated from age to age, with those of Noah, Bacchus, Triptolemus, and the other benefactors of our race; he will be amongst the ministers of France what good king Henry the Béarnais is amongst its kings; and, without any statute to that end made and provided,' his praise will be in every mouth.

IV.

ON THE APPETITE.

In the living body, life and motion give rise to a constant loss of substance, and the human frame, that complicated machine, would nition. speedily become useless, had not Providence placed within it a moving force to give warning when its powers and its wants are unequally balanced.

This monitor is the appetite, by which we mean the first feeling of a desire to eat. Appetite announces itself by a slight sensation of languor in the stomach, and general fatigue. The mind, at the same time, is occupied with ideas analogous to its wants; the memory recalls things which pleased the taste; the imagination seems actually to see them the whole state being a sort of dream, yet not devoid of a certain charm. We have a thousand times heard skilled gastronomes exclaim, in the joy of their hearts, "What a pleasure it is to have a good appetite, when one is certain of soon having an excellent dinner!"

Soon, however, the whole alimentary system shares in the commotion; the stomach feels strongly; the gastric juices and gases become active; the mouth fills with juices, and all the digestive powers are in arms, like soldiers ready for action, waiting only for the word of command.

These various states, in all stages, can be seen in any drawing-room where the guests are kept waiting for dinner. So inherent, indeed, are they in man's nature, that their symptoms cannot be disguised by the most refined politeness. Hence, I have gathered the maxim that, Of all the qualities of a cook, the most indispensable is punctuality.

To support this grave apophthegm, I shall relate what I have myself seen at a dinner party, Quorum pars magna fui,

where my amusement as an observer saved me from much of the anguish which others underwent.

trate.

One day I received an invitation to dine with a high public functionary, and at the ap- Anecdote pointed moment, half-past five, everybody to illushad arrived, for it was known that he liked punctuality, and sometimes scolded those who were late. I was struck, on my arrival, by the air of consternation that seemed to reign amongst the company: they whispered to each other; they looked out into the courtyard; some faces indicated stupefaction: something extraordinary had certainly happened.

Going up to one of the guests, whom I thought most likely to satisfy my curiosity, I asked him. what the matter was.

"Alas!" replied he, in a tone of the deepest sorrow, "monseigneur has been sent for to the Council of State; he is only starting, and who knows when he will be back?"

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Is that all?" said I, with an air of carelessness very different from my real feelings; "it is only a matter of a quarter of an hour-some information which they require: it is well known that an official

dinner is given here to-day, and they can't intend to make us fast." I spoke thus, though my real sentiments were those of anxiety, and I would fain have been somewhere else.

We got over the first hour pretty well. Men who had interests in common sat together; every commonplace topic was exhausted; and some amused themselves with conjectures as to the reason of our favourite Amphitryon being summoned to the Tuileries.

At the second hour, you could perceive symptoms of impatience; each looked anxiously at his neighbour, and the first to utter complaint were three or four guests who had not found seats, and were therefore in a rather uncomfortable position for waiting.

At the third hour, the dissatisfaction became general, and everybody grumbled. "When will he come back?" said one. "What does he mean?" said another. "It will be the death of some of us," said a third.

At the fourth hour, all the symptoms were aggravated some stretched their arms at the risk of knocking out their neighbours' eyes; there was yawning not only seen but heard all over the room; every face showed marks of intensified feeling. Nobody listened to me when I ventured to say that