somnambulism are partially awake, or in a state
of unusually and preternaturally profound
sleep? The phenomena we have above referred
to—particularly those connected with
the insensibility of the body and the organs of
the senses—lead us to believe, that in somnambulism
there is an increased intensity of
sleep, producing an extreme degree of
unconsciousness in regard to the physical
organisation, very similar to that which we find in
hysterical, cataleptic, and many other nervous
affections. The mental phenomena exhibited in
this state are those connected with exaggerated
dreams, and as the physiology of dreams is
by no means well understood in the healthy
state, still less can they be explained under the
aspect of disease.

It may be asked, How somnambulism,
being an affection likely to entail more
serious diseases upon persons subject to it,
is to be cured? When the general health
is affected, the family doctor, we apprehend,
will very speedily put an end to metaphysical
mystery; but in young persons, even where it
is hereditary, attention must be paid to diet,
regimen, and a due amount of bodily exercise.
The shower-bath has sometimes been found
serviceable. It is thought, also, that it may
be resisted by a strong effort of the will, inasmuch
as, in young persons, it has been suppressed
by the fear of punishment; but this,
on the other hand, may have a very contrary
effect, disturbing and exciting, rather than
composing, the nervous system. In the North
of Scotland the following plan is in some
schools adopted. The youthful somnambulist
is put to sleep in bed with a companion who
is not affected, and the leg of the one boy is
linked by a pretty long band of ribbon or tape
to the leg of the other. Presently, the one
disposed to ramble in his sleep gets out of bed,
and, in so doing, does not proceed far before
he awakens the non-somnambulist, who in
resisting being dragged after him, generally
throws the other down, which has the effect
of awakening him. In this way we have been
assured that several such cases have been
effectually cured: But is it always safe thus
to awake a person during the paroxysm?
Macnish relates the case of a lady who being
observed walking in her sleep into the garden,
one of the family followed her, and laying
hold of her, awaked her, when the shock was
so great that she fell down insensible, and
shortly afterwards expired.

We feel satisfied that all sudden and abrupt
transitions should be avoided. The state of
sleep, apart from somnambulism, is one of
natural repose; the organs of the body have
their various functions appropriately modified;
and we cannot help thinking that to interrupt
abruptly the course of Nature, and throw, as
it were, a dazzling light upon the brain, the
functions of which are in abeyance, is unwise,
and may prove injurious. Many persons
suddenly awakened out of a deep sleep, complain
afterwards of severe headache. We
conceive, therefore, that somnambulists who
may be considered in a state of preternaturally
profound sleep, ought not to be forcibly
awakened. It is true that some somnambulists,
like the servant girl described by
Doctor Fleming, above referred to, have been
awakened without after ill consequence, but as
a general rule, the nervous system ought not to
be subjected to any rude or unnecessary shock.
The management of, and treatment of the
somnambulist, must, it is obvious, depend
very much on age, sex, temperament, and
upon the causes, in particular,—whether
physical or mental,—to which the affection
may be ascribed. The most interesting circumstance
connected with somnambulism is
that it brings palpably under our observation
a preternatural state of being, in which the
body is seen moving about, executing a variety
of complicated actions, in the condition, physically,
of a living automaton, while the lamp
of the human soul is burning inwardly, as it
were, with increased intensity; and this very
exaltation of the mental faculties proves,
incontestably, that the mind is independent
of the body, and has an existence in a world
peculiar to itself.

A NEW PLEA FOR A NEW FOOD.

WHEN the great question of the day and
year was, how to feed the Irish in their extremity
of hunger, large quantities of the
cheapest flour that could be found were imported.
Indian meal was brought over from
America. The Irish ate it, because they must
eat it or starve; and many were the English
poor who did the same. The English rich
tried it at their tables, with a real anxiety to
recognise in it a wholesome and pleasant
article of food. How impossible this was
found, Mr. Carlyle and others have told the
world. Under the best management, under
the most careful disguises, the food was found
unpalateable. It was sour, or bitter, or musty;
sometimes all these.

The reason was this. The moisture contained
in the grain is an acid. When the
shell of the grain is broken, this moisture
forms an oxide, all the sweet qualities of the
grain disappear, and a bad flavour is substituted.
Whether the meal came over ground,
or merely broken, or kiln-dried, before it
sailed, the effect was much the same, and
people naturally concluded that the mischief
was done by bringing the meal over the sea.
The case was thus supposed to be hopeless,
and the " yellow meal," as the Irish call it,
was regarded as a mere refuge, and an odious
one, from starvation.

This is now found to be a mistake; and,
long as it will probably take to remove an
impression so reasonable, it may be worth
while to declare that Indian-corn flour may
now be had in a perfect state, as wholesome
and pleasant as any other flour, and so cheap