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From the fatigue of unvarying dullness, the only refuge to the mind is sleep.
The want of motion, or expected succession of phenomena, in visible objects, is also unfavourable to the healthy activity of the mind.
If v^e continue to gaze, for a sufficient length of time, on even the finest painting of Claude de Lorraine, beautifully as the sloping beams of the rising or setting sun may gleam along the water, and gild the sides of his ruins, rocks, palaces and trees, and entranced as we may be for a time in rapturous delight at the surprising truth of his pencil, still, the unmoving sun, the unvarying light and shade, the motionless water, and the unwaving trees, will, at length, arouse us from our dream, and forcibly remind us that the greatest charm of nature is not there.
This sameness of impressions is the cause of what the French call ennui; the mind, in listless lassitude, recoils upon itself; it is idle, but not at ease; it is sore from repose, is inclined to melancholy and responding views, is attended by peevishness, querulousness, or irascibility of temper, and is liable to be thrown off its balance by the most trifling accidents. To keep the mind, therefore, in the most favourable state for the preservation of bodily health, it is of consequence that its objects and pursuits should be diversified, and, as this cannot be long continued in solitude, the importance of mixing in society with our fellow creatures is obvious; for instance, there is nothing more favourable to the healthy digestion of our food, than to be cheerful at our meals; hence the advantage of our meals being
