is the general belief. All the virtues and soft
emotions, and also their opposite, are said to
proceed from the heart: varying in degree and
in character according to the goodness or
badness of that belied organ.

Now to this doctrine we object; and not only
do we consider the theory a mistake, and that
it cannot stand the test of examination, but we
meet the theory by the proposition that another
organ is really the seat of the affections, and that
the heart is not at all concerned in the matter.
The organ we contend for is the stomach.

It is very true, and we at once acknowledge
that we can bring no anatomical proof of our
doctrine from the structure of the stomach,
nor can those who might argue on the other
side show any such proof from the anatomy of
the heart. It is only by watching the actions of
each, that light can be thrown on the subject.

True, when powerful emotions of love or hate
have been excited, the heart's action is suddenly
and often violently increased, the pulses beat fast
and furious, there is a flushing of the face, and
a blush. But this is only because the emotion
disturbs the heart, as it does the respiration,
and the same effect is produced from other than
moral causes: as by running, jumping, or any
violent and rapid bodily exercise: also, by a
very hot room, or a glass of brandy. We might
as well assert that the lungs were the seat of
the affections; for they are disturbed by the
same causes.

If the heart, as an organ, were the seat of the
affections, and of all the tender feelings or their
opposites, these feelings would alter and become
morbid, if the heart were diseased: as we find
the mind become disordered when the brain is
wrong. It is well known that this is not the
case.

There is a disease where the heart becomes
enormously enlarged, but it is not found that
the moral large heart, as it is called, is the
consequence. A man is said to have a large heart
when he shows a noble benevolence and a wide
philanthropy; but his real heart, the organ
itself, remains of its natural size, while possibly
a miser who hoards up every penny, and never
did an act of charity in his life, dies of an
enlarged heart. The heart is sometimes found
converted into a bony half-stony structure, causing
much suffering during life; but the afflicted
owner of this hard heart is often the kindest,
the most tender, the most amiable, of human
beings. It has been said of a very loving
woman that she was all heart, whereas in reality
her heart remains unchanged in size or in structure,
and she retains the usual complement of
legs and arms, and so forth. Many people have
diseased hearts; these cases are easily
recognised by doctors, by the help of that wonderful
searcher of hearts, the stethoscope; but though
they have the malady for years, getting gradually
worse and worse, and though the progress
becomes more and more distinctly marked, until
they die of it, and a post mortem examination
verifies the opinion given of the case, yet the
affections have never been found to have been
impaired; the patient remains as good, as gentle,
as loving, and as benevolent, as before the change
began.

It remains, to prove that the real organ of
these emotions is the stomach.

Here we can confidently appeal to facts daily
seen and acknowledged. We can also easily
show that in very old times this truth was well
known and accepted, so that we are not broaching
an entirely new doctrine, but one frequently
set forth in the oldest literature. The Old
Testament abounds in proofs that the digestive
organs, of which the stomach is the most
important, were recognised as those which
influence the affections, and not the heart.
Witness such expressions as " bowels of mercy,"
"bowels of compassion," " Joseph's bowels
yearning towards his brother Benjamin." Many
more might be quoted, as such phrases frequently
occur, showing that the truth was well recognised
in the days of the patriarchs. We do not
pretend to be able to prove when, the change of
doctrine took place, or how it was that the heart
came to supersede the original and correct organ.

When we see a lovely and bewitching woman,
is it not common to say that we could eat her up?
One love-stricken swain was known to have
said this of his intended bride, but, some months
after his marriage, on being reminded of it,
he rather regretted he had not done it. Do not
mothers often say, in a fit of ecstatic fondness,
that they could eat a lovely cherub of a child?
Benevolent feelings towards all mankind are
notoriously promoted by a good dinner.
Numbers of our charitable institutions depend on
this recognised fact, and the subscription-plate
is sent round, never before, but always after
dinner. See the contrast between the amounts
of the collections in a church plate, even after
the most eloquent and touching of sermons (but
before dinner), and those obtained at public
dinners for the benefit of a hospital or a school!

Then again, to come to finer details, notice
how happy, serene, and full of charitable
feelings a man shows himself to be when his stomach
is comforted, refreshed, and soothed by a
well-dressed dinner of all the delicacies of the season;
on the other hand, how snarling, how sulky, and
ready to quarrel with the wife of his bosom and
the children of his loins, is the man whose
stomach has been offended by an ill-dressed, bad,
and indigestible meal.

Then again, while love and tenderness exist
unchanged in the man whose heart is seriously
diseased or even actually ossified, a deranged
or a damaged stomach occasions melancholy,
disgust, envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness.

Observe the effect of a sea-voyage on the
stomach as the organ of the affections. A devoted
young husband, on his wedding tour, crosses the
Channel with his beloved bride. Watch him;
all attention, all tender care to cover her with
his cloak, to bring her a soft pillow, before the
vessel quits the harbour; but when the tossing
and pitching begins, and his stomach feels the
horrid qualms of sea-sickness, he leaves the fair
to her fate or to the stewardess, and is