MUSCULAR EXERCISE OF LITERARY MEN. 233 



733. Causes of these Failures. With respect to the 

 causes of these calamities, for such they certainly are, both 

 with respect to individuals and the nation, there can be 

 only one opinion. They are brought on by too much 

 mental and too little muscular labor. Thus the 'balance 

 of the system, which we have seen requires a due propor- 

 tion between the exercise of the nervous and muscular 

 powers, is lost, the equilibrium of health is destroyed, in 

 consequence of the predominance of the sentient, over the 

 muscular principle. 



734. Obvious Effects of too much Mental Labor. In 

 such subjects, it will be found, that after a while the flesh 

 becomes soft and flabby, while the muscles can only be 

 made to perform their ordinary functions with difficulty, 

 all continued or violent exercise is instinctively avoided, 

 and even a walk of a mile or two, at the urgent request 

 of a friend, and which once gave so much pleasure, is now 

 undertaken with reluctance. Fatigue, even after walking 

 but a few hundred yards, becomes the prominent feeling, 

 and the man often returns home, after a short trial, for 

 fear that he shall not be able to do so, if he continues his 

 walk. Having returned, perhaps out of breath, he seats 

 himself, and concludes that exercise, since it brings on 

 fatigue, is not only useless, but hurtful to him ; and thus, 

 if he cannot be made to change tins opinion, consigns 

 himself to the nearly hopeless condition of a confirmed 

 " literary dyspeptic." 



735. "Meantime the nervous system increases in suscep- 

 tibility in proportion as the muscles lose their contractile 

 powers, and fall into a state of weakness. The subject 

 becomes exceedingly sensitive to nervous impressions. 

 Occurrences of little consequence, and which in his former 

 condition would have produced no sensation, now affect 

 him very unpleasantly. He becomes irritated and vexed 

 at every little mishap in the affairs of life. His friends, 

 he begins to imagine, do not behave toward him as for- 

 merly ; they have deserted him in his affliction ; and his 

 own family are wanting in that kindness which was for- 

 merly shown him, and which his present weak condition 

 now particularly demands. At the same time he finds it 



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