It is an old, and somewhat vulgar saying, though very expressive, that "God sends meat, and the devil cooks." This adage shows, that cooking has always been considered of some importance in this country, even among the lowest classes of society. A great deal too little attention, however, is paid to the art of preparing food for the use of those who eat; and we think we may say, without much exaggeration, that in many families, even to this day, one-half of their meat is wasted, and the other half spoilt. But the mere waste arising from this system of cooking, or rather want of system, is not the greatest evil, though this is an enormous one; the diseases that badly dressed food occasions to the stomach are even a greater evil than the one to which we have first referred. A bad cook will turn that which was intended by the Giver of all good for the nourishment of the body into a sort of poison. The functions of the stomach, when loaded with crude, undressed, or half-dressed meat, are unable to digest it. Hence the stomach is not only injured, but a train of diseases is engendered, sufficient to render one's life miserable. From the cause alluded to arises acidity, or sourness of the stomach, which gives rise again to heart-burns, hiccups, flatulencies, or wind; which again creates pains in the stomach and head, and, indeed, in other parts of the body. Then again we have, from the same cause, the various descriptions of nightmare, horrid dreams, and restless nights. Country people, in agricultural districts in particular, think themselves, when so afflicted, bewitched, or possessed by the devil, when, in fact, if possessed at all, they are possessed by bad cookery and indigestible diet. Instead of resorting to charms, such persons ought to resort to a dose of opening medicine, and take care to eat food which is not spoilt by dressing. But the greatest of all ills by which we can be afflicted, ill-dressed, indigestible food will bring about - intellectual confusion - perhaps madness - for be assured, that a deranged stomach is always, more or less, accompanied with a deranged head.

In support of these opinions we might adduce many authorities of the highest reputation, but we shall content ourselves with the following: - "It cannot be doubted," says Dr. Cheyne, " that the clear, ready, and pleasant exercise of the intellectual faculties, and their easy and undisturbed application to any subject, is never to be obtained but by a free, regular performance of the natural functions, which the lightest (most digestible) food can only procure." Again, Dr. Cheyne says, "he that would have a clear head must have a clean stomach. It is sufficiently manifest how much uncomfortable feelings of the bowels affect the nervous system, and how immediately and completely the general disorder is relieved by an alvine evacuation." Then we have the testimony of Abernethy, who says, "we cannot reasonably expect tranquillity of the nervous system, whilst there is disorder of the digestive organs, As we can imbibe no permanent source of strength but from the digestion of our food, it becomes important on this account, that we should attend to its quantity, quality, and the periods of taking it, with a view to ensure its proper digestion." But what says Dr. Kitchiner, who was an able physician, and the most learned and scientific writer upon the culinary art? "The stomach," he asserts, "is the main-spring of our system; if it be not sufficiently wound up to warm and support the circulation, the whole business of life will, in proportion, be ineffectually performed - we can neither think with precision - walk with vigour - sit down with comfort - nor sleep with tranquillity. There would be no difficulty in proving, that it influences (much more than people imagine) all our actions."

"One of the greatest, perhaps the greatest, moral writers of our age, Dr. Samuel Johnson, was a man," says Boswell, "of very nice discrimination in the science of cookery." He often remarked, " that some people have a foolish way of not minding, or pretending not to mind, what they eat; for my part, I mind my belly very studiously and very carefully, and I look upon it, that he who does not mind his belly, will hardly mind any thing else." To this, Kitchiner adds, "the Doctor might have said, cannot mind any tiling else." The energy of our brains is sadly dependent on the behaviour of our bowels. Those who say, 'tis no matter what we eat, or what we drink, may as well say, 'tis no matter whether we eat, or whether we drink.

Again, as to the relative importance of cookery as a science. Mr. Sylvester, in his Domestic Economy, says, that it is not difficult to foresee, that this department of philosophy must become the most popular of all others, because every class of human beings is interested in its result." Again, the same writer says, "if science can really contribute to the happiness of mankind, it must be in this department. The real comfort of the majority of men in this country is sought for at their own fire-sides: how desirable then it becomes to give every inducement to be at home, by directing all the means of philosophy to increase domestic happiness!"

Dr. Waterhouse, in his Lectures, thus speaks of the stomach: - "The faculty the stomach has of communicating the impressions made by the various substances that are put into it is such, that it seems more like a nervous expansion from the brain than a mere receptacle for food."

From allusions in the great Milton's writings, it is quite evident, that he appreciated the science of cookery highly. Speaking of philosophy, he says,

" 'Tis a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns."

Again,

" That which is not good is not delicious To a well-govenfd and wise appetite."

But we have better evidence than these allusions, of Milton's attachment to nicely dressed dishes. In his brother's, the judge's testimony, in support of a nuncupative will, which it was alleged he made before his death in favour of his third and last wife, a passage occurs, to the effect, that, approving of his dinner on a certain occasion, he said, "this will do; get something nice for me to eat, for when I am gone it will be all your's." We quote from memory. The celebrated Dr. Parr, the great Grecian and theologian, was much attached to good eating himself, and thought it very necessary, both for the health of the body and the mind. A few weeks before his death, for he was perfectly conscious that he had but a short time to live, he made arrangements for his funeral; and, amongst other things, he prepared a bill of fare for his funeral dinner. The dishes were all cold. He expressed his regret to a clerical friend of ours, that he could not give them a hot dinner, "but that is impossible," he said, "for there is not convenience in the house to cook for so large a number. I am much afraid," he continued, "lest you parsons should get a hot dinner for yourselves, and leave the poor laymen to the cold meat; but I should be very angry if I could know it. I always liked to take care of my own stomach, and of other people's. If that is wrong, nothing can be right."