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BY O. S. FoVlER, 


Editor of the "American Phrenological Journal," and author of "Phrenology ProT«d," 

"Education and Self-Improvement" "Hereditary Descent," "Religion," 

"Matrimony," "Love and Parentage," Etc. Etc. Etc. 



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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, 

By 0. S. FOWLER, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District 

of New York. 


To study single departments of man's complicated 
nature — as his anatomy, or physiology, or phrenology — 
separately, furnishes a partial and often erroneous view 
of it as a whole. To obtain anything like a complete 
knowledge of him requires that his constitution be stud- 
ied in its COLLECTIVE capacity. He must be known 
not by sections, but as a unit ; for in no other way can 
the reciprocal bearings and complex inter-relations of 
the multifarious laws of his being be understood. How 
useless, how imperfect a knowledge of anatomy, unless 
accompanied by that of both the physiology and the men- 
tality ! And the latter two without the former ! And the 
latter without both the others ! Nor should this sectional 
mode of study be longer tolerated. The unitarian 
aspect of man, and means of improving him, forms the 
ground- work of these volumes. How far they succeed 
the reader must decide. They probably constitute the 
first attempt to put side by side the laws of inter-relation 
existing between the body and mind. 

As our subject is naturally subdivided into three de- 
partments, it has been divided into three volumes — the 
first, devoted to the preservation and restoration of 
of health, the inter-relations of body and mind, and the 
improvement of the mentality by improving the physi- 


ology ; the second, to the regulation of the feelings and 
perfection of the moral character; and the third, to 
intellectual cultivation. A system of numbering the 
paragraphs or heads of the subjects treated, and a refer- 
ence to them in the text by raised figures, called supe- 
riors, renders a reference from each to all perfectly easy 
and expeditious, so that, after a point has been once 
presented, it can be referred to specifically, without cir- 
cumlocution, or repetition, or disfiguring the page. Yet 
each volume, being complete in itself, can be read sepa- 


Power of mind depends on vigor of body. Even 
the moral virtues are influenced — almost controlled — 
by physiological conditions. The laws of health, there- 
fore, however important intrinsically, assume a momen- 
tous rank in consequence of their controlling power over 
talent and moral excellence, and should be studied in 
this their mental aspect mainly. Yet hitherto this re- 
ciprocity of body and mind has been almost wholly 
overlooked. Physiological works stop with laying the 
foundation merely, just where they should begin to 
apply their principles to mental improvement. Such 
appHcation it is the object of this volume to make. 
The preservation and improvement of health, as a means 
of developing the talents and moral virtues, are its 
all-pervading idea. It shows what influences the various 
states of the body and brain exert over the mind — ^the 
eflfects of various diets and regimen on character, and 
the improvement and deterioration of mind consequent 
on cerebral vigor and debility. 

The author had not prosecuted those phrenological in- 
vestigations, which constitute his passion as well as pro- 
fession, far, before he perceived that the virtues, vices, 
capabilities, and entire character, are controlled quite as 
eiFectu'ally by the physiology as phrenology. This led 
him tb trace out those laws which govern this inter- 
relation, and the results of his obsei'vations, in this 


almost unexplored field of human inquiry, this volume 

No more of the anatomy of the body and its organs 
has been given than was requisite to illustrate and en- 
force their physiology, and the preservation and restora- 
tion of their respective functions. The vito-chymical 
discoveries of the great Liebig — that father of " animal 
chymistry," — the practical value of v^hich surpass all 
other modern advancements of science, have been par- 
tially popularized and applied in this work, and thus a 
most important desideratum in part supplied. 

Its health prescriptions, as such, have had primary 
reference to the preservation of health and the pre- 
vention of disease ; yet these same prescriptions are 
as effectual in curing as in preventing. It attempts to 
qualify every man to become his own doctor, and espe- 
cially would impart to parents that physiological knowl- 
edge, the seasonable application of which will enable 
them to keep their families in health, as well as to rout 
disease in its incipient stages, not, however, by dosing 
down medicines as much as by an observance of the laws 
and conditions of health. Nature is the great physician. 
She alone can restore ; and in her cures, unlike poisonou? 
medicines, she fortifies instead of undermining the consti 
tution. To guard against disease — but when contracted, 
to show patients how to restore health by fulfilling its 
conditions — is our main design. And if some of these 
jprescriptions seem strange, yet are they not abundantly 
supported by proof? At least, so certain is the authoi 
of the correctness and practical value of all the direc- 
tions and prescriptions contained herein, that he puts 
them in rigid practice — unwilling that his preaching 
should be in opposition to his conduct. 

Still further to enhance the practical value of the 
work, a table has been prepared, in which appHcants 
can be directed, first, what particular functions they re- 


quire to cultivate, and referred to those parts of t!;e 
work, especially paragraphs, which tell them how to 
effect such cultivation. 

May this volume, both singly and in conjunct'nn Y\^ith 
its successors, go forth to lesson huiaan suffering, to 
restore and enhance the blessings of health and life, and 
above all, to promote moral excellence and intellec- 
tual progression. 


The accompanying Table, when marked, will enable those who may 
Becm-e the requisite examination, to refer to those passages which point 
out the physiological excess, defect, or derangement, which causes their 
debility or disease, as well as show them how to ward off predispositions 
to those diseases to which they are most liable. 

A dot, or any other mark, with the pen, will be placed in the square 
containing the number of the paragraphs which give the required direc- 
tions. But where several persons are marked on the same table, a hori- 
zontal stroke, or dash, — wiU be used for the first ; a perpendicular 
erected on it thus -^ for the second ; this perpendicular continued below 
the horizontal, making a cross, thus +, for the third ; a horizontal curve 
over this cross, thus -f-, for the fourth ; under for the fifth, to the right 
hand for the sixth, and the left hand for the seventh ; so that the following 
mark (+) stands for all seven. 

The written figures in the second column indicate the relative vigor 
of the health, vitality, and the various functions opposite to which they are 
written, the scale varying from 1 to 7. Thus: 6 written opposite to 
Vitality, signifies that it is abundant, while 2 signifies that it is deficient ; 
4 signifies average ; 3 below par ; 5 rather above ; 7 very abundant ; and 
1 very deficient. Several persons can be marked in this column also. 






A a 














63 64 

77 78 



70 7174 78 

Perspiration ) 


107 108 
111 112 








Temperature ) 


96 98 

98 99 


Muscles } 


138 140 




Vol. iii. 

Vol. iii. 





155 157 

156 162 









Dyspepsia ) 


70 71 72 

164 169 








173 175 






* These figures refer, not to pages, but to those numbered paragraph* 
or headings, found throughout the work. 



Symbolical head 17 

1. Under jaw of the cow 82 

2. Jaws of the tiger 82 

3. Front view of the teeth of a monkey 83 

4. Side view of the teeth of a monkey ^ 83 

5. Side view of the teeth of a baboon 83 

6. Skull of Jaco, a male ourang-outang 84 

7. The teeth 117 

8. The stomach and intestinal canal 139 

9. Intestines, lacteals, and mesentery glands 139 

10. The liver, gall, pancreas, and kidneys 145 

11. The structm-e of the intestines 148 

12. The heart 152 

13. Shape and structure of the lungs 157 

14. The lungs and stomach 160 

15. The structure of a gland 217 

16. The skeleton 221 

17. The muscles of the arm 224 

18. Location of the cerebral organ of motion 225 

19. The muscles 226 

20. The structure of the brain 252 

21. A perpendicular section of the brain and skull 253 

22. The nerves of the brain 255 

23. The corpus callosum 256 

24. The nervous system 260 

25. Head of Granville Mellen 293 








1. Happiness constitutional. — ^2. Amount of happiness attainable. — 
3. Pain exists.— 4. Pain not necessary. — 5. Our world governed 
by inflexible causation. — 6. All pain the consequence of violated 
law. — 7. Rewards and penalties self-acting. 8. These laws cog- 
nizable. — 9. Man can apply them. — 10. Happiness and suffer- 
ing analogous to the law obeyed or broken. — 11. Importance of 
understanding these laws. — 12. Object of all education. — 13. 
Physiological and phrenological education. - - . 19 — 30 



14. Man a physical and mental being. — 15. Mind and body perfectly 
inter-related. — 16. Effected by means of the brain — the organ of 
the mind. — 17. Universality of this reciprocity. — 18. Operatmg on 
the mind through the body. — 19. Importance of understanding 
these relations. .-.._. 30 — 37 

20. Health defined. — 21. Value of health. — 22. Sickness costly. — 
23. Disease painful. — 24. Sickness and death not providential, but 
governed by law. — 25. To be weaned from the world. — 26. 
Health attainable — spontaneous. — 27. Health a duty; sickness and 
premature death sinful. ..... 33 — 51 



28. Man's requisition for vitality. — 29. Requisition for food. — 30. 
Organized bodies alone edible. — 31. Selection of food. — 32. Dif- 
ferent diets feed different powers. — 33. Unperverted appetite an 
infallible directory. — 34. Appetite liable to become perverted. — 
35. The true issue. — 36. A fundamental principle of dietetics. — 
37. Animal food excites propensity. — 38. Flesh eating contrasted 
with vegetable eating. 39. " Meat gives force and strength." — 



40. Isolated facts. — 41. Expen'encc of the Bible Chiistians. — 42. 
Animal food blunts moral sentiment. 43. Slaughter-house cruel- 
ties. — 44. A flesh diet subjects morality to propensity. — 45. Ani- 
mal food shortens and enfeebles life. — 46. The human teeth not 
carnivorous. — 47. A flesh diet wasteful. — 48. Fruit and grain more 
palatable than meat. — 49. Animal food blunts taste. — .50. A bread 
and fruit diet nourishes moral sentiment. — 51. Vegetables furnish 
all the nutritions elements required in the vital process. - 15 — 99 



52. Bread and its preparation. — 53. Coarse and fine flour bread. — 
54. Leavened and unleavened bread. — 55. Rice, rye, oatmeal, bar- 
ley, etc. — 56. Pastry, eggs, and spices. — 57. Fruit. — 58. Sw^eets. 
— 59. Milk, butter, and cheese. — 60. Peas, beans, potatoes, onions, 
beets, carrots, turnips, squashes. — 61. Cucumbers, radishes, and 
immature esculents. — 62. Nuts. .... 99 — 115 



63. Mastication — the teeth — their names and descrijption. — 64. Sa- 
liva, its office and admixture with food. — 65. The right quantity of 
food. — 66. Three classes of facts. — 67. Parr, Cornaro, Dr. Cheyne, 
Dr. Johnson, and others. — 68. The author's experience. — 69. Appe- 
tite a test of the proper quantity of food. — 70. How appetite can be 
restrained. — 71. Frequency, invalids. — 73. Eating between meals, 
luncheons, etc. — 74. The best time for eating. — 75. The digestive 
process. — 76. Structure of the stomach and intestinal canal. — 77. 
The motion of the stomach. — 78. Exercise after meals and noon- 
ings. — 79. Location and form of the liver, gall, pancreas, and kid- 
neys. ....... 116 — 145 



80. Chyle.~81. The lacteal vessels. - - - - 146—149 




82. Importance of circulation. — 83. The heart — its structure and 
office. — 84. The circulatoiy system. ... 150 — 155 



85. Respiration and its importance. — 86. Requisition and supply 
of oxygen. — 87. Means employed to inflate the lungs. — 88. Struc- 
ture of the lungs. — 89. Introduction of oxygen into the circula- 
tion. — 90. Animal heat. — 91. Capillary system of the blood-vessels. 
—92. Combustion. — 93. Carbonic acid — its formation and exit. — 



94. The amount of heat. — 95. The due regulation of animal heat. 
— 96. Summer and winter food. — 97. Meat in winter. — 98. Requi- 
sition of fresh air, especially for children. — 99. The vitiated atmo- 
sphere of the school-room. — 100. Ventilation in general. — 101. The 
due ventilation of sleeping apartments. — 102. Blue veins, a sign of 
insufficient breathing. - . - . . 155 — 179 



103. Water essential to life. — 104. Perspiration.— 105. The skin and 
its structure. — 106. Insensible perspiration, and its impoi'tance. — 
107. Importance of keeping the pores of the skin open.— 108. 
Colds and their consequences. — 109. The prevention of colds. — 
110. Baths, and their modes of application. — 111. The cure of 
colds by perspiration. — 112. Glass-blovi'^ers. - - 179 — 198 


113. Cooling effects of perspiration. — 114. The deficiency of animal 
heat. — 115. Fire — evils of its excess. — 116. Different kinds of 
fuel, stoves, etc. — 117. Fire necessary when the constitution is 
weak. — 118. Clothes, and their necessity. — 119. Quantity of cloth- 
ing requisite. — 120. The clothing of children. — 121. Change of 
raiment. — 122. The quantity of clothing, flannels, silks. — 123. Head 
and neck attire. — 124. The hands and arms. — 125. Warm feet. 198 — 210 




126. Its necessity and office. — 127. Amount and duration of sleep. — 
128. Season — early rising. — 129. Promotion. — 130. Beds and 
bedding. .-.-.... 210—216 



131. Necessity and structure. — 132. Inter-relation of the glandular 
system and mind. — 133. The absorbents. - - - 216 — 218 




134. The expenditure of vitality. — 135. The osseous system — its 
necessity and structure. .... 218 — 223 




13G. Necessity, structure, and office. — 137. The power of the mus- 
cular system. — 188. The importance of exercise. — 139. Pleasure 



of exercise and labor. — 140. Most great men labored hard in 
youth. — 141. The anti-working doctrine and practice. — 142. The 
dignity of labor, and rendering it agreeable. — 143. The amount 
of exercise required. — 144. Dancing as exercise. — 145. Exercise 
doubly requisite for the young. — 146. Children and youth should 
labor, but not to excess. — 147. Early schooling especially injurious. 




148. Eequisition for some mental function and organ. — 149. The lo- 
cation and structure of the brain. — 150. The cerebellum and its 
functions. — 151. Consciousness — or the seat of the soul. - 250 — 257 

152. Structure. — 153. The function of the nerv^es. — 154. Import- 
ance of sensation. — 155. Importance of healthy nerves. — 156. 
Effects of diseased nerves upon the mind. — 157. How to keep the 
nervous system in health. ----- 257 — 266 




158. Existence, definition, and curability of disease. — 159, Vegeta- 
ble and mineral medicines. — 160. The use of poisons, calomel, 
and depletions. — 161. A medicinal diet better than concentrated 
medicines. ------- 267 — 272 




162. Proportion a law of nature. — 163. Growing youth an exception 
to this law. — 164. Excess of carbon a prolific cause of disease. 
— 165. Exhaustion as inviting disease. — 166. Restoration of this 
proportion. — 167. Who require muscular action, and how to pro- 
mote it.— 168. The promotion of digestion. — 169. Constipation — 
its evils and remedy. — 170. The drink of dyspeptics — its kinds, 
time, and quantity. — 171. Palpitation of the heart, and the promo- 
tion of circulation. — 172. Consumption — its cause and cure. — 173. 
Preventives of consumption. — 174. The children of consumptive 
parents. — 175. The cure of disordered nerves. — 176. Preventives 
of Insanity.— 177. The water cure.— 178. Conclusion. - 273—312 



1. AMATiVENESS, Sexual and connubial love. 

2. Philoprogenitiveness, Parental love. 

3. Adhesiveness, Friendship — sociability. 
A. Union fob Life, Love of one only. 

4. Lnhabitiveness, Love of home — patriot- 


5. Continuity, Completion — one thing at a 


6. CoMBATivENESS, Resistance — defence. 

7. Desiructiveness, Executiveness— force. 

8. Alimentiveness, Appetite, hunger. 

9. Acquisitiveness, Frugality — accumula- 


10. Secretiveness, Policy — management 

11. Cautiousness, Prudence, provision. 

12. Approbativeness, Ambition — display. 

13. Self-Esteem, Self-respect and confi- 

dence — dignity. 

14. Firmness, Decision — perseverance. 

15. Conscientiousness, Justice — equity. 

16. Hope, Expectation — enterprise. 

17. Spirituality, Intuition — prescience — 

Bpiritual reYery-^ommuniou with 

18. Veneration, Devotion — ^worship, fft 


19. Benevolence, Kindness — goodness. 

20. CoNSTRUCTivENEss, Mechanical ingenuity, 

21. Ideality, Retinement — taste — purity. 

B. Sublimity, Love of grandeur. 

22. Imitation, Copying — patterning. 

23. Mirthfulness, Jocoseness — wit — ^fun. 

24. Individuality, Observation, 

25. Form, Recollection of shape. 

26. Size, Measuring by the eye. 

27. Weight, Balancing — climbing. 

28. Color, Judgment of colors. 

29. Order, Method— system— arrangement. 

30. Calculation, Mental arithmetic. 

31. Locality, Recollection of places. 

32. Eventuality, Memory of facts. 

33. Time, Cognizance of duration. 

34. Tune, Music— melody by ear. 

35. Language, Expression of ideas. 

36. Causality, Applying causes to effectB. 

37. Comparison, Inductive reasoning. 

C. Human Nature, Perception of motives. 

D. Agbseableness, PleosantneBS — auavitj. 






Happiness is the constitutional and only legitimate product 
of every organ of the body, every faculty of the mind, every 
element of our being. To what else are all our bones, joints, 
and muscles adapted, both in their functions themselves, and in 
all that labor and locomotion which they were devised to accom- 
plish ? What but exquisite enjoyment is the constitutional pro- 
duct, both of the mere act of seeing, and of that ceaseless round 
of pleasure and fund of information, as well as range of material 
for thought, feeling, and happiness, furnished thereby ? Plea- 
sure in quaffing luxuriantly the fresh air of heaven, and then 
in expending the vitality thus obtained, is the only natural 
function of respiration. For what was the stomach created, 
but to give us pleasure both in eating and in all its constitu- 
tional effects ? And for what were brain and nerve created, 
but expressly to furnish us an inexhaustible range of intel- 
lectual and moral enjoyment ? And thus of every other physi- 
cal organ and function. 

Each mental faculty singly, and all combined, have the 
same constitutional adaptation and object. Benevolence was 
created to bless the needy, pour the oil of consolation into the 
wounded soul, avoid causing pain, and adorn human nature, 
as well as to render the giver himself also happy ; it being still 
more blessed to give than to receive. Parental love is adapted 
both to render parents themselves happy in providing for, rnd 
educating darling and dependant infancy and lovely childhood, 


and children also happy in receiving the bounties thus lavishly 
bestowed by parental love. Ideality, exercised in harmony 
with its primitive function, enjoys a perpetual feast in contem- 
plating the beautiful and perfect in nature, as well as in refin- 
ing the manners and purifying the feelings of its possessor, and 
elevating and gracing his entire nature and conduct. Ac- 
quisitiveness was designed to give pleasure both in acquiring 
property and the necessaries and comforts of life, as well as 
in providing Appetite with food ; Benevolence with the means 
of doing good. Cautiousness with the requisites for shelter 
and safety, the Social Affections with family comforts, In- 
habitiveness with a home. Intellect with books and the 
means of prosecuting scientific researches, and all the faculties 
respectively with the means of their gratification. Appetite, 
besides yielding much gustatory pleasure, nourishes body and 
brain, and thereby enables them to perform and enjoy the 
various functions of our nature. Causality experiences a 
rich harvest of happiness in studying the laws and operations 
of nature, adapting ways and means to ends, and thereby 
attaining pleasure only. Language, normally exercised, 
afibrds a world of pleasure in the mere act of talking, besides 
that exhaustless source of happiness experienced in the inter- 
change of knowledge, ideas, motives, feelings, etc., as well as 
in reading, hearing sermons, lectures, and the like, and *in 
communing with one another in ways innumerable. How 
vast an amount of happiness is memory capable of conferring 
on man ? How exalted the enjoyment we can experience in 
worshipping God, and in all those holy emotions and purifying 
influfences prayer is adapted to diffuse throughout the soul ! 
And thus of Friendship, Connubial love, Ambition, Persever- 
ance, Hope, Moral feeling, and every other faculty of the hu- 
man mind ! Does the needle point to its pole more universally 
than every physical organ, every mental faculty, every ele- 
ment and function of man, points to happiness — all happiness, 
pure, unalloyed, and nothing else — as its only constitutional 
product ? What else is of any conceivable value to him ? 
For what else was he created ? Need so plain a law of na- 
ture be farther argued or elucidated ? 



And the amount of happiness of which our natures are sus- 
ceptible is incalculably great — a thousand fold greater, doubt- 
less, than the happiest of mortals has ever yet enjoyed, and 
almost infinitely greater than the generality of mortals now 
experience. We little realize how inexpressibly happy it is 
by nature possibly for us all to become. Our Creator has 
done all that even a God could do to promote this one normal 
end of life — this only desideratum of our being. In what a 
perfect paradise does man's primitive constitution place him ! 
Oh ! if he would exercise his powers in accordance with their 
original constitution, how perfectly holy and happy would he 
thereby become ! 


And yet our world is full of suffering and wo ! Pandora's 
box, filled with all manner of diseases and miseries, has been 
opened upon man ! He literally groans in agony ! Poverty, 
wretchedness, loathsome and distressing sickness, the heart- 
rending decease of friends, children, and companions, and even 
premature death itself, tearing its victims from life and all its 
pleasures, torment most mankind ! Millions suffer beyond 
description, and millions of millions are or have been tortured 
into the wish that they had never been born, or that death, 
with all its horrors, would hasten to their relief; while most 
consider our world — so perfectly adapted to promote human 
happiness — a path of thorns, and life itself a lingering, living 


Yet none of this suffering forms any necessary part of any 
constitutional arrangement or function of our nature. Teeth 
are created and adapted to masticate food, not to ache ; nor 
need they ever. The head was not made to ache, nor the 
stomach to occasion griping, pains, nor in any way to distress 
us. Nor are the lungs adapted to torture us while they waste 
away in lingering consumption, blasting all our hopes and 


happiness. Neither malignant fevers, nor distressing rheu- 
matism, nor torturing gout, nor loathsome, life-eating cancers, 
nor any other kind or degree of disease or suffering form any 
part of man's original constitution, nor of nature's ordinances, 
but all are utterly repugnant to both. 

So of the mental faculties. Was Benevolence created to 
torment us with the sight of pain which cannot be relieved ? 
Or Combativeness to brawl, quarrel, and fight ? Or Destruct- 
iveness to devastate whole nations with wo and carnage, 
making loving wives lonely widows, and happy children deso- 
late orphans, by the million, besides all the horrors of the battle 
field itself? Or Appetite to gormandize till it offers up all 
that is virtuous and happy at the shrine of beastly gluttony 
and drunkenness ? Or Approbativeness to pinch the feet of 
the suffering Chinese, or flatten the head of the savage Indian, 
or deform the waists of simple would-be beauties ? Or Self- 
Esteem to wade through seas of blood to thrones of despotism ? 
Or Veneration to create all the abominations of Paganism, or 
the bigotry of Christendom ? Or Constructiveness to make 
implements of torture and death ? Or Acquisitiveness to cheat 
and rob ? Or Causality to plot mischief and devise evil ? Or 
Adhesiveness to mourn in hopeless grief the loss of near and 
dear friends ? Or Parental Love to torture us with inexpressi- 
ble anguish by the death of a dearly beloved child, or perhaps 
entire groups of beautiful and happy sons and daughters? 
Or Connubial Love to weep disconsolate and distracted at the 
grave of a dearly beloved wife, or devoted husband — perhaps, 
too, after every means of support has been exhausted, every 
child buried, every earthly hope blasted, and while torturing 
disease is preying upon life itself, and opening the yawning grave 
at our feet ? No, never ! Cold and heat are not more unlike 
than these results are contrary to all of nature's adaptations. 
Nor is there a single physical organ, or mental faculty, or 
human function whose normal product is pain, or any thing 
but pleasure. Any other doctrine contradicts universal fact, 
attests the ignorance of its advocate, and would fain libel 
Infinite Goodness! 



What, then, has caused all this wide-spread misery ? Eve's 
eating the forbidden fruit ? But that affects all human beings 
alike ; so that, for all its influences, all could be as happy as 
any one ever has been or ever will be. Will not the recipi- 
ents of millennial bounty be incalculably and perfectly happy ? 
Yet they will bear precisely the same constitutional relation 
to Adam with the most sinful and miserable of mortals. What, 
then, is its cause ? 

Hear nature's answer. "All enjoyment, all suffering is 
CAUSED." The sentient world, in common with the physical, 
is governed by law, the violation of which causes pain, and its 
obedience pleasure. Cause and effect govern all nature — 
her pains and pleasures included. All that occurs or is, is 
caused, nor can any thing whatever occur or exist, without 
being governed throughout by inflexible causation. But 
for this all would be chance and chaos ; now all is certain 
sequence. But for this every thing would happen, and dole- 
ful uncertainly brood darkly over all things ; now all is cer- 
tainty. These laws reign supreme, and substitute perfect 
order for complete confusion. From them there is no appeal, 
and to them no exception. Nor is their action ever uncertain. 
Given causes always produce specific effects, and their own 
appropriate effects only ; while like causes invariably generate 
like effects. All, therefore, that we feel, enjoy, and suffer, is 
CAUSED^is the absolutely necessary product of its own spe- 
cific cause, and of that only. Under similar circumstances 
nothing else could possibly have occurred ; so that all uncer- 
tainty is for ever precluded. 


Nor are these laws dead letters, nor passive non-entities, nor 
destitute of divine sanction ; but they are clothed with two- 
fold authority ; first in the happiness consequent upon their 
obedience, and in the pain caused by their infraction. Indeed, 
happiness is but the legitimate and only effect of their observ- 
ance, and pain of their violation. Unaccompanied by these 
pleasurable and painful consequences, they would be power- 


less, and therefore useless. Every law of our being is ex- 
pressly instituted and adapted to secure human happiness — 
this " chief end of man's creation," the only commodity of any 
value to him^ — and to prevent suffering ; because unless pain 
resulted from their infraction, half their present sanction would 
have been wanting ; whereas now, not only do the pleasures 
experienced in their observance sweetly allure us onward in 
the same delightful path, but the direful penalties consequent 
on their violation urge, even compel us, and with a practical 
power greater than any other device could possibly wield, to 
shun this suffering by complying with their requirements. 
Pain is constitutionally abhorrent to man — is the only ground- 
work of all dislike. By an arrangement living back in his 
very nature, man instinctively and universally shrinks from it 
as from poison, as well as avoids its cause. Nor does he avoid 
any thing but what occasions him pain, or for any other reason, 
and dislikes all things in proportion to the pain they give him, 
as well as wholly because of such pain. Hence, he instinctively 
avoids violating law because such violation occasions that suf- 
fering which he dreads ; and seeks in obedience that pleasure 
to which he is constitutionally so powerfully attracted. Un- 
less pain existed, sentinel-like, to watch and warn us against 
violating law, we should be perpetually liable to burn, or bruise, 
or freeze ourselves to death, many times over, if that were pos- 
sible, as well as to mutilate and destroy ourselves in countless 
ways which pain now prevents. This same principle governs 
equally the laws of mind, and for the same purpose ; namely, 
to secure their observance also. Indeed, law without pain 
would be but mockery — a rope of sand — and the greater and 
more uniform the pleasures of obedience, but the more certain 
and fearful the pain consequent on their violation, the more 
valuable the law. Happiness is the most persuasive motive to 
goodness, and suffering the most powerful preventive of sin, 
which even a God could invent ; and this double invention of 
rewards and punishments — the former sweetly enticing obedi- 
ence and the latter sternly enforcing it — is as perfectly adapt- 
ed to secure man's highest good as Infinite Wisdom could 
devise and Infinite Benevolence execute ! 



That same Wisdom which devised these laws has also 
affixed a contrivance by which they are their own executors. 
They are self-acting — necessarily inducing, in the very na- 
ture of things, their appropriate rewards and penalties. In 
the very act of obedience consists its pleasures, while in and 
by the very transgression itself, consists its penalty. To obey 
any law is to secure its legitimate blessings ; to transgress it 
is to insure its consequent sufferings. No escape, no evasion 
of either can possibly occur throughout God's vast dominions. 
Obedience and its consequent happiness are linked inseparably 
together ; while sin and suffering go hand in hand throughout 
the universe ! Neither can ever be separated from the other I 

Be it, then, remembered by every human being, that " afflic- 
tion Cometh not forth of the dust," nor doth pleasure " spring 
out of the ground," but that all suffering is caused — is the 
constitutional and inevitable consequence of violating law, and 
that all enjoyment flows naturally and necessarily from obedi- 
ence. Nor is it possible, in the very nature of things, to obey 
or violate any law whatever, without inducing these results ; 
nor of experiencing these results except in and by such viola- 
tion. No pain, uncaused, was ever sent by God, nor any 
blessing ever conferred except in conformity with these unal- 
terable institutes of nature. Even judgments and mercies 
themselves are brought about by causation. Hence, happi- 
ness is in as exact proportion to obedience, and sinfulness to 
suffering, as the God of Heaven can mete them out. 


Nor are these laws a sealed book to man, nor hidden in 
labyrinthian mazes, ready to spring upon him like serpents from 
the grass or tigers from their lairs. This would render them 
useless as well as " charge God foolishly." No mist, no un- 
certainty beclouds any of them. They are open, palpable, 
and lighted up by the full blaze of both philosophy and per- 
petual experience. Nor need any of them ever be misappre- 
hended. Those who cannot discern them, not as in a glass, 
darkly, but clearly and fully, as in the noon-day sun, are either 


blinded or stupid. Such cognizance is even thrust contin- 
ually upon us. 


To this capability of understanding them God has graciously 
superadded the power of applying them. Man can reach 
them — can adapt means to ends ; that is, control effects by 
applying causation so as to bring about desired ends. He is, 
moreover, endowed with that power of choice or will which 
enables him to obey or violate at pleasure, and thus to render 
himself good or bad, and therefore happy or miserable, accord- 
ing as he may determine. He is thus capacitated, by obey- 
ing these laws, to apply them to the promotion of his own 
happiness and the well-being of his fellow men ; or, by igno- 
rantly and wickedly breaking them, to occasion an incalcula- 
ble amount of suffering, both to himself and his fellow men. 
In general, those suffer most who have sinned most, and be- 
cause of their sin ; while those who are the most happy are 
so because the most obedient — our enjoyments and sufferings 
being the thermometers of our righteousness and sinfulness. 
Though some inherit painful diseases and vicious predisposi- 
tions from parents, and thus suffer for sins not their own, and 
though our inter-relations with our fellow men often cause us 
to suffer for their sins, yet, in the main, we obey and enjoy, or 
sin and suffer, for ourselves, and reap the consequences of 
our own conduct. Hence, by avoiding all sin we can escape 
all suffering, and in that proportion. So if we obey all the 
laws of our being, v/e shall become as perfectly happy as it 
is possible for human nature to become or endure — every de- 
partment of our entire being literally overflowing with unal- 
loyed bliss. 



All enjoyment also flows in the direct line of that obedience 
which caused it, and all suifsring follows directly in the v^^ake 
of its sin. Each bears a close resemblance to its origin. 
Thus the violation of the law of appetite inflicts a given kind 


of suffering, which is analogous to the law violated ; namely, 
it disorders the stomach, corrupts the blood, and causes disease 
and suffering throughout this whole department of our nature ; 
but those who violate the law of chastity experience an entirely 
different kind of pain, occurring in the social department of 
their nature and its dependancies ; yet if, meanwhile, they 
obey the laws of appetite, they enjoy the pleasures conferred 
thereby. Whoever violates the laws of Acquisitiveness, by 
hoarding immense wealth, or obtaining money by fraud, gam- 
bling, or any dishonest means, invariably suffers on its account. 
What gambler or robber ever enjoyed his booty 1 Honesty 
alone is policy. Getting money dishonestly occasions its per- 
nicious expenditure, while earning it secures its judicious use. 
Those even who acquire it too easily and rapidly, generally 
live luxuriously, and thus suffer in and by the very money 
thus obtained without its being earned. Yet if such obey the 
laws of health, or Ideality, or any other laws, they will enjoy 
the benefits of whatever laws they obey. 

This analogy of all enjoyment and suffering to the law 
obeyed or broken, renders it easy .to trace our respective pains 
and pleasures — mental and physical, public and private, col- 
lective and individual — directly and certainly to their causes ; 
that is, to the laws obeyed and broken. This great practical 
truth teaches all mankind both the causes and remedies of 
every evil experienced and suffering endured, as well as how 
to obviate them, and also just what promotes happiness that we 
may " seek it yet again." 


By as much, then, as we value happiness and dread misery, 
let us all apply ourselves most diligently and perseveringly to 
the study of these laws, as the first step towards their obedi- 
ence. Though we may indeed light upon such observance 
without understanding them, and should if our natures were 
unperverted, yet how much better with ? Ignorance is the 
evil, knowledge the remedy. To make men better, show them 
the consequences of both obedience and transgression. These 
great practical motives once realized, take so feeling a hold 


of all mankind as literally to compel obedience ^, and are more 
efficacious than all others combined. Ignorance of conse- 
quences is the great parent of most of man's suiferings, and a 
knowledge of them the first, second, and third all-powerful 
instrumentality of restraining sin. " Knowledge is power," and 
knowledge of these laws, tha* is, of the conditions of enjoyment 
and causes of suffering, is as much more powerful for happi- 
ness than all other species of knowledge, as it enforces these 
laws, and shows us how to gather in perpetually from the 
prolific vine of our natures, those rich clusters, in all their 
endless varieties, of the choicest delights of our nature, which 
a bountiful God has adapted it to yield, as well as escape that 
wretchedness which floods our world ! As happiness is the 
*' chief end of man," that species of knowledge is the most 
important v/hich the m.ost effectually furthers this end, the 
happiness it is capable of conferring being its only measure of 
value. Now since a knowledge of the laws of our being or 
conditions of happiness, is incalculably more promotive of this 
happiness than that of astronomy, natural-philosophy, lan- 
guages, etc., it is therefore proportionally the more valuable. 


" Man's greatest knowledge is himself to know." 

He is most wise who best knows how to render himself happy , 
yet grossly ignorant are all those who do not, however learned 
in physics, Grecian and Latin ore, politics, literature, and 
every other species of knowledge. That study, too, is greatest 
which unfolds the greatest variety, and the highest order of 
these laws, and can be turned to the best practical account, 
in both of which the study of humanity exceeds all others. 
Man is the epitome of the universe, and his study is the study 
of the greatest work of God ! 


To EXPOUND THESE LAWS and enforce their observance, 
should therefore be the one distinctive end and drift of all 
education, domestic, common, and classic. As happiness is 
the only " end of man " and acquisition of any value, all 
education should be directed to its attainment, nor is it of any 


possible use or value farther than it does this. Education 
should then teach first and mainly the nature of man, and 
other studies only as collaterals till this species of knowledge 
is complete. This point is clear; yet how utterly foreign to 
this object is all education as now conducted ! Pupils are 
taught scarcely any thing concerning themselves, physically 
or mentally, or how to render themselves happy, or how to 
avoid pain. That our educational system is slightly improving, 
is admitted, yet it requires not to be patched up or mended, 
but to be completely remodelled. We want every thing 
NEW, not the old revised, as we shall see throughout these 
entire works. We require an education which shall teach 
nature, especially human nature, instead of books transmitted 
through the dark ages. The school and pseudo-scientific 
books now taught are exceedingly deficient as exponents of 
nature, and omit our own almost wholly. Yet all school- 
books should teach nature in general, and human nature — its 
laws and conditions of happiness, in particular. 


What then are some of the principal laws of our being, by 
understanding and obeying which we can so effectually aug- 
ment both our own happiness and that of our fellow men, as 
well as escape suffering by obviating its cause ? This event- 
ful inquiry phrenological and physiological science answers 
in the exposition they furnish of the primitive constitution of 
man. Phrenology expounds all the laws of our physical 
constitution, and thereby all the conditions of life, health, and 
animal enjoyment ; while Phrenology unfolds all the laws of 
MIND, to fulfil which constitutes the observance of all our moral 
duties and the consequent enjoyment. Both combined there- 
fore evolve all the elementary conditions of human happiness, 
together with all the prominent causes of human suffering and 
woe, and all so plainly that those that run can read. Being 
true — and this is taken for granted in this series of volumes, 
but fully proved elsewhere — they of course develop those 
laws and conditions in harmony with which God created 
man, and therefore embody his entire nature with all its laws. 


To interpret these laws and their accompanying conditions of 
happiness sufficiently to elucidate and enforce their obser- 
vance, and thus to promote human improvement, is the dis- 
tinctive object of this series of volumes. God grant that it 
may render every reader, and through them countless thou- 
sands, the more virtuous and happy in this life, and thereby 
better fitted for that which is to come. 




If man had been created a purely physical being, without 
any mind, he could have accomplished nothing, could have en- 
joyed nothing. Or if he had been created a purely spiritual 
being, v/ithout a material organization, this world, with all its 
adaptations for promoting human happiness — the glorious sky 
over our heads and the flower-spangled lawn under our feet, 
the life-giving sun and health- inspiring breeze, the rains and 
dews of heaven, and all the fruits, bounties, and luxuries of 
earth — as far as it concerns man, would have been made in 
vain. But he has been created a compound being, composed 
of flesh and blood, on the one hand, and of mind and soul on 
the other ; and wonderful indeed — the workmanship of God — 
is this union of mind with matter, and pre-eminently promo- 
tive of human happiness. 


Nor are these respective natures strangers to each other. 
Indeed, they are so closely inter-related that every action and 
condition of either exerts a perfectly reciprocal influence on 
the other. This vital truth is practically established by the 
perpetual experience of every member of the human family. 
Thus a clear, cold morning, produces directly opposite effects 
on the mind by diflercntly affecting the body. Fevers enhance, 


and often derange the feelings and mental manifestations, by- 
augmenting the action of the brain ; while hunger, fatigue, 
debility, and the like, enfeeble the former by diminishing the 
action of the latter. Dyspepsia induces gloom and mental de- 
bility, by deranging the physical functions — rendering its vic- 
tim irritable, misanthropic, wretched, disagreeable, and utterljr 
unlike himself. Physical inaction induces mental sluggish- 
ness, while bodily exercise quickens intellectual action and 
promotes happy feeling. Excess and deficiency of food and 
sleep affect the mind powerfully, yet very differently. Expe- 
rience has taught many of our best speakers to prepare their 
minds for powerful effort by physical regimen. Certain kinds 
of food stimulate some of the propensities, while other kinds 
augmeni our ability to think and study. Fasting promotes 
piety, but " fullness of bread" augments sinful desires. Sick- 
ness enfeebles the mind and health strengthens it. Cerebral 
inflammation causes insanity, and its inaction, as in fainting, 
mental stupor. Both morality and talent are affected more by- 
food, drinks, physical habits, sickness, health, etc., than is 
supposed. When the devout Christian or profound thinker has 
eaten to excess, or induced severe colds or fevers, or in any- 
other way clogged or disordered his physical functions, the 
former can no more be "clothed with the spirit," or "soar on the 
wings of devotion," or the latter bring his intellectual energies 
into full and efficient action, than arrest the sun. Indeed, most 
of our constantly recurring transitions of thought and feeling 
are caused by physiological changes, nor can the latter ever 
occur without correspondingly affecting the mentality. " A 
sound mind in a healthy body" expresses this great truth, which 
the practical experience of all mankind confirms. In short, as 
well dispute our own senses as controvert this doctrine — felt 
perpetually by every human being — that both mind and body- 
powerfully and reciprocally affect each other. 


This reciprocity is effected by means of the brain, — that 
great focus of the system which experiences all sensation, and 
issues all mandates. To enter fully upon the proof of this 


cardinal doctrine, that the brain is the organ of the mind — ^the 
great instrumentality of thought and feeling — would be super- 
fluous, because, though it lies at the very basis of all the laws 
and facts adduced in these volumes, yet it is so generally 
admitted by physiologists, philosophers, metaphysicians, and 
mankind at large, that it may properly be assumed. The 
converging facts, that several times more blood — always 
abundant in any part in proportion to the expenditure of 
vitality in that part — is sent to the head than to any other 
portion of the body ; that pressure upon the brain suspends the 
action of the mind, while pressure upon no other portion does 
this ; that the entire nervous system connects with the brain, 
where its functions are performed — proved by the destruction 
of those functions consequent on severing any nerve in its 
passage from any part to the brain — that we know of no other 
function which the brain performs, except it be the mental, yet 
that its location and structure indicate its performance of the 
highest function of humanity ; and that the size and conforma- 
tion of the brain correspond with the characteristics of the mind 
—proved by phrenological science — ^together with many others 
of a kindred character ; render the inference that the brain 
performs this highest function of our nature absolutely certain. 
Every existing physical condition is instantly, accurately, and 
fully reported to the brain, where it is mainly felt. The 
various states of the brain, as of rest and action, vigor and 
\ exhaustion, health and disease, induce corresponding states of 
the mind, over which they exert a controlling influence. The 
brain is therefore the organ of the mind — the great agent by 
which emotion is manifested and intellect put forth. 

The various conditions of the brain and mind must therefore 
be perfectly inter-related. The requisition for this perfect 
sympathy between the mind and its organ, is absolute — based 
in the very nature of things. As no function or product of 
any organ can ever take place without the corresponding 
action of that organ itself, so, the brain being the organ of the 
mind, no action of the latter can ever take place except in 
connection with and by means of the former ; nor can the 
brain act without producing mentality. And since this inter- 


relation exists in regard to their action, it of course governs all 
their other relations. The universality and imperiousness of 
this inter-relation is what constitutes any organ an orcran. 
Without it, an organ is no organ, and no organ cnn bo an 
organ. The mere fact that the brain is the organ of the mind, 
pre-supposes and requires this perfect reciprocity of all its 
states and conditions with those of the mind. 

The brain, besides being the organ of the mind, is also 
perfectly inter-related to the body as a whole, and to all its 
parts. This is fully demonstrated by that perfect tissue of 
communication, shown by anatomy to exist between every 
portion of the body and the brain, and confirmed by the per- 
petual experience of all mankind ; so that the sympathy exist- 
ing between all parts of the body and the brain, is both perfect 
and universal. Its states partake of theirs, and theirs of its ; 
so that a common reciprocity governs them all. Hence, since 
the states of the mind reciprocate perfectly with those of the 
brain, and the brain with those of the body, therefore the 
several states of the physiology and the mentality bear a per- 
fect reciprocity to each other. The brain is perfectly inter- 
related to the body, and the mind to the brain, and therefore the 
mind to the body through the brain ; so that all the conditions 
of body, brain, and mind permeate each other. Every throb of 
the physiology produces a corresponding pulsation in both the 
brain and mind ; every condition of the brain is reciprocated 
throughout both the entire body and mind ; every state of the 
mentality induces a corresponding state in the brain and body. 
This inter-relation of all three to each other, is both absolutely 
necessary and perfectly reciprocal. Since, then, all the phys- 
ical functions and conditions thus reciprocally affect the brain, 
and since all the cerebral react thus powerfully and per- 
fectly upon the mental, therefore all the physical reciprocate 
with all the mental ; nor can the body be affected in any way, 
or in the least, without thereby similarly affecting both brain 
and mind ; otherwise the brain cannot be the organ of the 
mind, whereas we know it is — otherwise, none of the physical 
conditions affect the mental, whereas we know they all do. 



Not only do these reciprocal relations exist, but, in common 
with universal nature, they are governed by undeviating 
causation ; otherwise, all the evils consequent on no causation 
would appertain in a pre-eminent degree to this the highest 
department of nature ^. Therefore no physical condition can 
exist without affecting both brain and mind, nor can any 
physiological changes occur without inducing similar changes 
in the mentality, because nature never does things by halves, 
but whenever she sees best to govern a portion of any class of 
her operations by certain laws, she always governs the whole 
of that class by the same laws. Thus, she does not govern a 
part of the operations of vision by the laws of optics, and leave 
a part ungoverned by these laws, but she governs all the 
former by the latter. And thus of every conceivable applica- 
tion of this principle of universality. That same utility — and 
nature is all utility — which renders it best to throw law over 
a PART of any class of her operations, renders it equally ser- 
viceable to extend that same law over this entire class. 
Besides, how awkwardly it would look and work if a part 
were thus governed, and a part left wholly at random ? Does 
nature ever adopt this piecemeal, patchwork system ? If so, 
causality is a nullity and God irregular — a supposition utterly 
un philosophical and untrue ^^ These inter-relations between 
body and brain and brain and mind, and of course between 
body and mind, are therefore systematic ^^^ and universal, so 
that all the states and changes of either correspondingly affect 
the other. This position is utterly incontrovertible and abso- 
lutely true — an ordinance of universal nature. It is estab- 
lished and effected by the two palpable facts, that the brain is 
the organ of the mind, and then inter-related to the body ; both 
of which obtain universally. To question the latter is to dis- 
pute an anatomical fact, and to deny the former is equivalent 
to denying that the mind has any connection with the body, or 
with matter ; for if this connection does not take place by 
means of the brain, it does not take place at all, or exist. But 
mind is related to the body, and affected by organic con- 
ditions '^ Therefore all is relation. We know and feel 


that SOME physical conditions similarly affect the mind : there- 
fore every condition — every change in every portion of the 
body — similarly affects the brain, and thereby the mental 
manifestations. To excite, or invigorate, or debilitate, or dis- 
ease, or restore the body, therefore excites, or invigorates, or 
debilitates, or diseases, or restores the mind itself; and im- 
proving the latter also improves the former. The two, and 
all their existing states, are as effectually and completely 
interwoven with each other as the warp and woof, and thus 
interwoven, constitute the warp and woof of our terrestrial 


This great principle of mental and cerebral inter-relation 
gives us the key of mind — puts us in possession of the helm 
OF THE mentality — and shows us how to control — accelerate, 
retard, impair, restore, augment, discipline, or modify at our 
pleasure — any and all the mental operations, by controlling the 
physiological conditions. It tells us how we may throw mind 
into any given state, namely : by throwing the body into the 
corresponding state ; nor is it possible to affect either in any 
manner or degree without thereby similarly affecting the other 
also, any more than to arrest the action of any other law of 


This principle of the reciprocity between the physiology and 
the mentality, is simple in structure but all powerful in its 
influence, and imbodies truths of the highest practical moment 
to every member of the human family ; because it is com- 
pletely interwoven with every exercise of the mind, and in 
consequence, with every item of progression, personal and 
public, in mental discipline and moral excellence ; with every 
manifestation of talents, every improvement in virtue, every 
twinge of pain, every pulsation of enjoyment ; all of which it 
goes far to determine. In short, it lies at the very basis of the 
intellectual and moral nature of man — that highest department 
of his nature ''°'. Man is indeed the greatest terrestrial work 


of God ! But what department of his nature constitutes its 
crowning excellence ? Which is the king and which the sub- 
ject ? For which are all its other departments created ? For 
us MENTALITY. Happiness being his legitimate destiny^, 
which enjoys and suffers ? Mind. Was man created mainly 
to eat, sleep, breathe, labor, glitter, and die ? No, but to feel 
AND THINK. And what constitutes his identity and person- 
ality — his essence, himself ? His dress, or even body ? 
Neither, but his soul. This imbodies the manhood of man. 
All else is extraneous. Cut from him, if that were possible, 
limb after limb and organ after organ, till all shall be removed, 
but leave his mind entire, and he remains the same being 
still ; but his body, separated from his immortal spirit, is nol 
himself. Socrates being asked where they should bury him, 
aptly replied, " Bury this body where you like, but it is not 
me. My mind is myself; that can never be buried, but goes 
to dwell with the gods." Our mental faculties constitute 
ourselves* — our very being and quintessence — flesh and blood 
being our earthly habitation merely. 

The laws of mind therefore constitute the highest grade of 
laws which appertain to our being, and the observance of 
these laws therefore yields more enjoyment, and that more 
exalted, than obeying any other, while their violation inflicts 
the highest kind and degree of misery supportable or imagi- 
nable. Hence, since a knowledge of the laws of our being is 
the most important species of knowledge ", and since the laws 
of mind imbody the highest order of these laws, therefore the 
study of the laws of mind — of the physico-mental conditions 
of happiness and virtue, or of the physical conditions as affect- 
ing the mentality — constitutes the highest of all human investi- 
gations. Since we can control the physical conditions by air, 
exercise, sleep, diet, and general regimen, and thereby the 
mentality '^, and since such mental control is the highest of all 
human attainments '^, therefore, to ascertain what states of 
the physiology will augment moral and intellectual action, and 

* See an explanation of Consciousness in the American Phrenological 
Jouraal for IS-IT. 


what will occasion mental gloom and wretchedness, or kindle 
sinful propensity, not only constitutes the highest order of know- 
ledge, but also imparts the highest order of power. " Know- 
ledge is power," but no other knowledge is equally power to 


as well as to avoid temptations to sin. No charioteer can 
manage his well-trained steed as easily or effectually as a full 
knowledge of these physico-mental relations will enable us to 
control — augment, restrain, direct— our states of mind and 
feeling. By its application, we can enhance cerebral effi- 
ciency and therefore mental power many hundred per cent. ; 
or proportionably augment the action of particular cerebral 
organs, and therefore of any required talent or virtue. Yet 
who understands this subject ? What treatise, even on Physi- 
ology — that department to which it rightly belongs — even 
attempts its elucidation 1 And yet to unfold and enforce this 
subject, should be the main object of all physiological works ; 
because this imbodies their great utility. 

To the exposition and application, therefore, of a principle 
thus vast in its range and vital in its character, this series of 
volumes is dedicated. The momentous questions. What physi- 
cal conditions induce given mental manifestations ? into what 
states shall we throw the body in order thereby to promote 
particular moral emotions and tendencies, or enhance particu- 
lar intellectual powers and manifestations ? it will endeavor to 
answer, and thereby to put its readers in possession of the keys 
of personal happiness, and the great lever with which to move 
mind. God grant to the author a full conception and faithful 
delineation of the momentous practical truths unfolded by this 
principle, and to the reader the power to understand, and will 
to apply them, 


3S PHYsroLOGy, animal and mental. 

health: its value, feasibility, and duty. 

" The poor man's riches, the rich man's blessing." 


It consists in the vigorous and normal or natural action of 
all our organs and powers ; while disease consists in their 
disorder, and death in their suspension. Life also consists in 
the same action, and both health and life are proportionate to 
its amount. Hence, by improving the former we enhance the 
latter; but in proportion as we enfeeble or disease these 
functions, do we thereby diminish life and all its pleasures. 
Viewed in any and every aspect, health is life, and life is 


Therefore exceeds that of anything else ; because it im- 
parts the greatest attainable zest and relish to life and all 
its blessings. Nor can we even enjoy life, except by its 
instrumentality, and in proportion to its vigor. Without it, 
what can we do, or become, or enjoy ? Other things being 
equal, our capabilities for accomplishing and enjoying are 
proportionate to its vigor, and become enfeebled as it declines. 
Neither all the attainable wealth, nor honors, nor blessings of 
life can render us happy any farther than we have health to 
enjoy them, and their value diminishes in proportion as health 
declines. When disease has destroyed appetite, the most 
delicious food and fruits only nauseate ; yet how much a keen 
appetite, consequent on excellent health, relishes them ? Well 
might the glutted epicure offer the beggar-boy a guinea for his 
morning's appetite. The rich invalid is poor, because he 
cannot enjoy his possessions; yet the healthy are therefore 
rich, because their fund of life and capabilities of being happy, 
are great. Those who have always enjoyed health, little 
realize its; i^ses or value. As we measure time by its loss, so 


vfe rarely estimate the blessings of health till it declines. O ! 
I would give my all — all the world if mine — for the re-pos- 
session of that health — life — I have carelessly and wantonly 
squandered, and that without having received any value in 
return for this choicest gift of heaven. Brought to the brink 
of the grave — our last hour come — what would we all give — 
what NOT give — for another year of life, with all its pleasures 1 
Aster's thirty millions would be cheap, because life confers 
almost infinitely more happiness — the only commodity of any 
value to man '-^than all else put together. Then what con- 
summate foolishness to trifle with health as almost all now 
do ! Esau's folly was wisdom in comparison with theirs who 
carelessly give away a lifetime of vigor for one of feebleness — 
who even barter life itself for some momentary indulgence. 
A foolish ambition breaks down the constitutions of a vast 
number of the young — of all. Unwilling to be out-done, per- 
haps they work at the top of their strength as long as they 
can stand up, or over-heat themselves, or, in a single day or 
week, induce some complaint which debilitates them for life, 
and hurries them into premature graves. An ambitious youth, 
just to show how much he could do, worked to complete 
exhaustion, and till he lamed his side ; so that these fifteen 
years he has been an invalid, can do scarcely half the labor 
he formerly did, and some kinds not at all, besides working in 
almost perpetual pain. That single day's work did him vastly 
more injury than any fortune could ever do him good — gave 
him more pain than any amount of money could ever have 
given him pleasure, because it weakened all his capabilities 
and pleasures, and enhanced all his suffering, for life, which it 
will shorten many years. And yet he received no extra pay for 
this destruction of health, but sacrificed a vast amount of hap- 
piness and even of life, upon the altar of foolish pride. Nor are 
such instances of folly — of the worst forms of wickedness even 
— rare. What reader of thirty, if not of fifteen, has not injured 
health forever, and shortened his days, by similar exposures or 
imprudences ? And how few take any pains to invigorate 
health and prolong life, but how many ignorantly and wickedly 
squander both almost daily, and in a great variety of ways ? 



Another motive, inferior in itself, yet in this dollar-and-cent 
age, highly practical inducement to preserve health, is the pe- 
cuniary advantages it confers, and loss consequent on sick- 
ness. Health allows you to be always " on hand" for business, 
from which sickness takes you, and compels you to intrust its 
management to others — always disastrous — or suspends your 
wages, if you labor. It also incurs heavy bills for doctors, 
nurses, and other incidentals, and occasions a great variety of 
pecuniary losses. So, measurably, if any of your family is 
sick — especially a wife. How many readers, now poor, would 
have been rich if their families had always been well ? Tn 
this country, those who, with their families, are uniformly 
healthy, rarely ever need be poor. Indeed, no stroke of pf^cun- 
iary policy equals that of preserving or regaining health. 
Still more : — 


See that sick child. How forlorn and wo-stricken its looks ! 
Mark those rheumatic or gouty subjects ; every motion pain- 
ful, and most of their sources of pleasure converted into worm- 
wood. Behold that wretched victim of disease lying prostrate 
on a sick bed ! Torn from business, society, and all the en- 
joyments of life, and, instead, racked with pain ; the boiling 
blood coursing through his veins, swollen almost to bursting. 
Hear his piteous wail — " My head, O, my head !" See those 
eyes rolling in agony. Open the windows of his soul and be- 
hold his struo-o-le for life in the midst of death ! His horrid 


dread of death far exceeds the torturing pains of disease. 
Hark ! hear him pant for breath. Witness that gurgling in 
his throat. Behold the last agonizing struggle between life 
and death, and that final giving up of the ghost ! What is 
more dreadful than sickness ? What horror of horrors at all 
compares with that most awful scene experienced on earth — 
premature death ? — from which may God deliver us. Rathei 
let us all strive to deliver ourselves — for no one ever dies till 
he has either so far impaired his health as to have exhausted 


life, or else till he is worn out, and dies a natural, and there- 
fore a pleasurable death. Be it remembered by all, that no 
human being can injure health at any period of life, without 
proportionally shortening life — without being brought to the 
strictest account at its close, and compelled to end it as much 
sooner than he otherwise would, as he has injured his health 
during his whole lifetime. Health — life^° — is a sum of money 
in bank, the interest of which, economically used, will support 
you. But you spend foolishly, and draw on the principal. 
This diminishes the income, and you draw the oftener and the 
larger drafts, till you exhaust it and become bankrupt. As 
every draft drawn must be reckoned in that final settlement 
which every draft hastens, and as the faster you draw the 
sooner you exhaust it, so every cold or rheumatic affection in- 
duced, every instance of over-eating, over- working, and strain- 
ing, every imprudence — whatever injures health — is a draft 
on life which death cashes and charges at a thousand per 
cent, interest ; and when you have drawn out your fund of life 
— but never till then — he summons you to your final account, 
and sends you to your grave. Thus every abuse of health 
while you live, enfeebles your powers for the remainder of 
your life, and hastens death ! Ho, youth ! ho, all ! be entreated 
to consider the infinite value of health — of life — and the pro- 
portionate importance of its preservation and augmentation ! 
Weighed in the scale with health, millions are trash, and all 
else is dross without it. Gain whatever you may by impair- 
ing health, you become an infinite loser ; but lose what you 
may in its preservation or restoration, you gain more than 
to acquire fortunes, and even crowns and worlds ! Be your 
aims what they may, if you would succeed, preserve health 


To get rich, preserve health. 

To enjoy animal life, preserve health. 

To do good, preserve health ; for what good can you do 
when sick or dead ? 

To acquire knowledge, preserve health. 

To attain any kind of eminence or greatness, presekve 



To secure any or all the legitimate ends of life, physical, 
intellectual, or moral, preserve health. 

Let then the preservation of health be the great concern — 
the paramount business — of life, as it is the perfection of 
wisdom and the great instrumentality of enjoyment. 


" O ! but," says one, " health and sickness, life and death, 
are wise but mysterious dispensations of Providence. ' The 
Lord killeth and maketh alive; He bringeth down to the 
grave and bringeth up.' Our days are all numbered, so that 
we MUST die at our appointed time." Do we live in a world of 
law, or of chance ^^^ 1 Does every effect have its cause, and 
every cauie its effect, or do the most important of all effects 
occur without cause ^''^ ^''^, by "Providential interposition," 
perhaps in the very teeth of causation ? Does God viola^-e his 
own laws ? Preposterous ! A doctrine false in fact, injurious 
in consequence, subversive of all causation, conceived in igno- 
rance and brought forth by bigotry ! Our world is governed 
throughout by law. All is cause and effect. We see, feel, 
AND KNOW that SOME causes promote health, while others 
retard it. Certain causes always occasion death, and others 
often avert it. If sickness and death are providential, why 
ever give medicine to remove the former, or prevent the latter ? 
What 1 vainly, and impiously attempt to arrest by medicine 
the dispensation of an all-wise Providence ! Fear and tremble 
lest He smite you dead, for giving medicine to thwart His 
unchangeable decree ! Irony aside, sickness and death are no 
more providential than the rising of the sun or any fixed opera- 
tion of nature, but the legitimate and necessary effects of 
their procuring causes ; nor do any consider them practically 
as providential, but all treat them as effects in their very 
attempts to obviate them by removing their causes. All man- 
kind DO something — apply causes to the relief of pain and 
prevention of death, as spontaneously as they breathe. What 
stronger evidence could be required or had, that all instinct- 
ively feel and know them to be effects governed by causa- 
tion ? Are deaths caused by poisoning v or shooting provi- 


dences ? Then all the operations of nature are equally provi- 
dences. You may call them caused providences; I call 
them effects. We often know by what causes sickness and 
death were produced, and are all internally conscious — the 
highest order of proof — that they are effects, equally with all 
the operations of nature. To argue this point is to argue 
what is self-evident, and to suppose that a single glow of health, 
or twinge of pain is not an effect, but a providence, is sup- 
posing that this incalculably important department of nature is 
without the pale of causation and law — a doctrine utterly 
untenable. His Causality must be feeble, and mind weak or 
unenlightened, who entertains a doctrine thus hostile to all 
order and to universal nature. 

Nor is the doctrine that they are sometimes providential, 
and sometimes caused by violating the organic laws, less 
irrational than to suppose the sun rises one day in obedience 
to the fixed laws of gravity, and another day by ' special provi- 
dence,' and wholly without means ; and thus of all the other 
fixed operations of nature. Does Deity trifle thus ? Does He 
half do and then undo ? Does He ever begin without comple- 
ting ? Does not that same utility and even constitutional 
necessity of things which renders it best that sickness and 
health, life and death, should be caused in part — as we know 
they are — should also be caused in whole ? The principle 
that whenever a part of a given class of operations, as of seeing, 
motion, and the like, are governed by causation, that entire 
class is governed by the same law, is a universal fact through- 
out nature '^ That causation governs sickness and death in 
part, is self-evident : therefore all sickness, all death, prema- 
ture and natural, are equally the legitimate and invariable 
effects of violated physical law. In one sense they may be 
called * divine chastisements,' because they are chastisements 
consequent on breaking the Divine laws, but in no other. 
Both reason and fact impel us to this conclusion. No middle 
ground remains. In fact, no ground but to ascribe all health 
and sickness, life and death, to inflexible causation. Strange 
that moral and intellectual leaders and teachers — pseudo 
educated men even — should entertain and promulgate a 

4s$ HEALTH. 

doctrine as injurious and utterly absurd, as that sickness and 
premature death can possibly be providential, or occur unless 
caused by some violation of the organic laws ! Men kill 
themselves, and parents their children — with kindness often — 
by countless thousands, and then essay to throw off all the 
blame from their own guilty selves by ascribing all to " Provi- 
dence." Consummate ignorance. Even downright blasphemy ! 
Though the sick may be consoled by being clerically exhorted 
to " submit to this afflictive dispensation of Divine Providence, 
trusting that this chastening rod of your Heavenly Father will 
teach you resignation to his will," more than by being reproved 
for inflicting this distress upon themselves, and occasioning 
this trouble to others, consequent on disobeying the laws of 
health, yet the latter course would tend to prevent subsequent 
sickness by inculcating subsequent obedience. Though for 
clergymen to tell parents, on the death of beloved children, 
" ' The Lord gave and the Lord taketh away,' probably from 
evil to come — that this bereavement is a merciful ' Providence' 
sent to wean your affections from earth, and prepare them for 
heaven,"* and the like, may comfort their lacerated feelings 


Is to be weaned out of it. Are we not created and adapted expressly 
to enjoy it? Suppose us wholly weaned, say from property, we should 
neither earn nor save a single thing, and thus soon become utterly desti- 
tute of all earthly comforts. Such weaning is wicked. Weaned wholly 
from family, we should see them perish by wretched laches, without lift 
ing a finger for their relief; which, not weaned, we should gladly proffer- 
Weaned on the score of appetite, starvation would be the fatal conse 
quence; and thus of every earthly enjoyment. Great preparation for 
heaven this being weaned from earth ! Does enjoying this life, that is, 
obeying its laws, unfit for heaven ? Are earth and heaven thus in neces- 
sary collision ? Rather, has not our benevolent Father harmonized the 
two ? Is not the doctrine that they conflict a virtual impeachment of His 
wisdom or goodness ? Rather, it is a heathen relic of that barbarous no- 
tion, that human agony is God's delight, and insures his favor — a doctrine 
at universal war vi^ith every adaptation of nature.' That God is best 
pleased when we are most happy, nature teaches us universally and prac- 
tically; thus assuring us that the best possible preparation for another 
life consists in obeying the laws of this; that is, in rendering ourselves as 
happy as possible in this ; whereas, that whatever renders us unhappy 


temporarily ; whereas, telling them that this death was the 
painful consequence of some violations of the law of health, 
and could have been prevented by their observance, might 
temporally increase their sorrow, yet the latter course would 
tend powerfully to secure subsequent obedience, and thus pre- 
vent farther bereavement and suffering ; whereas, the former 
facilitates both by blinding their eyes to the real cause of their 
calamity. Fully to realize that nothing but violated law 
can possibly occasion sickness or premature death, especially 
juveniles, will enforce, by the most powerful of all motives, 
the study and observance of those laws, and thus ward off 
sickness ahd preserve life, while these false consolations lull 
parents and destroy children by scores of thousands annually. 
On this point hear Mrs. Sedgwick. 

"was it providence? 

" Take, for example, a young girl bred delicately in town, and 
shut up in a nurseiy in her childhood — in a boarding-school through 
her youth — never accustomed to air or exercise, two things that 
the law of God makes essential to health. She marries ; her 
strength is inadequate to the demands upon it. Her beauty fades 
early. She languishes through her hard ofifices of giving birth to 
children, suckling, and watching over them, and dies early. 'What 
a strange Providence, that a mother should be taken in the midst 
of life from her children !' Was it Providence ? No ! Provi- 
dence had assigned her threescore years and ten; a term long 
enough to rear her children, and to see her children's children ; 
but she did not obey the laws on which life depends, and of course 
she lost it. 

" A father, too, is cut off in the midst of his days. He is a use- 
ful and distinguished citizen, and eminent in his profession. A 
general buzz arises on every side : ' What a striking Providence !' 
This man has been in the habit of studying half of the night ; of 
passing his days in his office or in the courts ; of eating luxurious 
dinners, and drinking various kinds of wine. He has every day 
violated the laws on which health depends. Did Providence cut 

here, as does grief for the loss of children. and friends, violates the laws of 
earth and thereby unfits for heaven. A preparation for heaven, so far from 
■weaning us from earth, or diminishing our terrestrial enjoyments, consists in 
rendering ourselves as perfectly happy on earth, and as perfectly attached to 
its enjoyments, as is possible. Earth and heaven are not antagonistic ene- 
mies, but are children of the same benevolent Parent, and in universal 


him off? The evil rarely ends here. The diseases of the father 
are often transmitted ; and a feeble mother rarely leaves behind 
her vigorous children. 

" It has been customary in some of our cities, for young ladies 
to walk in thin shoes and delicate stockings in mid-winter. A 
healthy, blooming young girl thus dressed in violation of Heaven's 
laws, pays the penalty — a checked circulation, colds, fever, and 
death. ' What a sad Providence !' exclaimed her friends. Was it 
Providence, or her own folly ? A beautiful young bride goes night 
after night to parties, made in honor of her marriage. She has a 
slightly sore throat ; perhaps the weather is inclement ; but she 
must go with her neck and arms bare ; for who ever saw a bride in 
a close evening dress ? She is consequently seized with an inflam- 
mation of the lungs, and the grave receives her before her bridal 
days are over. ' What a Providence !' exclaims the world. ' Cut 
off in the midst of happiness and hope !' Alas, did she not cut the 
thread of life herself? 

" A girl in the countiy, exposed to our changeful climate, gets a 
new bonnet instead of getting a flannel garment. A rheumatism 
is the consequence. Should the girl sit down tranquilly with the 
idea that Providence has sent the rheumatism upon her, or should 
she charge it on her vanity, and avoid the folly in future? Look, 
my young friends, at the mass of diseases that are incurred by in- 
temperance in eating and in drinking, in study or in business ; by 
neglect of exercise, cleanliness, and pure air ; by indiscreet dress- 
ing, tight-lacing, etc. ; and all is quietly imputed to Providence ! 
Is there not impiety as well as ignorance in this? Were the 
physical laws strictly observed, from generation to generation, there 
would be an end to the frightful diseases that cut life short, and of 
the long list of maladies that make life a torment or a trial. It is 
the opinion of those who best understand the physical system, that 
this wonderful machine, the body, this ' goodly temple,' would 
gradually decay, and men would die as if falling asleep." 


Not only is it governed by laws, but its laws are within 
our reach ^. Nor are they difficult of application. Such ap- 
plication is even spontaneous. To preserve health, we have 
neither to visit some distant clime, nor to do some great thing, 
nor even to practice the least self-denial, but only not to pre- 
vent it. Let nature " have her perfect work," and she will 
furnish it already at our hands. Perfect health is simply the 
perfect operation of all her organs and functions ^^ This she 
hsis taken the utmost pains to secure. Behold the labor she 
has bestowed to construct the body with a degree of perfection 


attainable only by infinite skill and power. These organs 
thus infinitely perfect, are their functions less so ? Was not 
this perfection of structure devised expressly lo secure cor- 
responding perfection of function ? Else what its use ? Un- 
less deranged or prevented by violating law, every organ will 
go on from the beginning of life until worn out by extreme 
old age, to perform its office with all the regularity of the 
sun, and with a power commensurate to any demand compati- 
ble with the laws of our being. To argue our doctrine that 
health is spontaneous — as natural as breathing, or eating, or 
sleeping, is in fact only these and other functions in their 
natural and vigorous action ^° — is to attempt to prove an axiom, 
or that we see what we see. Allov/ed their natural play, all 
the organs will go on perpetually to manufacture life, health, 
and happiness, which, unless their flow is arrested by violating 
law, will flow on as freely and spontaneously to every human 
being as the river to its own ocean home. An illustrative 

A boy once inadvertently whistled in school. " John, you 
rogue, what made you whistle ?" inquired the angered teacher. 
" 1 didn't, master," replied John, " it whistled itself." It 
breathes itself, sees itself, moves itself, sleeps itself, digests itself, 
thinks and feels itself — every thing itself — and breathes, 
sees, thinks, feels, every thing, exactly right, unless prevented, 
if the proper food and stimulus be presented. Is it difficult to 
breathe ? or to breathe right ? or enough ? or wholesome air ? 
Rather, it is exceedingly difficult not to breathe, or to breathe 
too little, or a noxious atmosphere. Is it hard to eat ? or to eat 
enough ? or to eat what is healthy ? Yet the converse is al- 
ways difficult. These illustrations apply to every function of 
the body. Every organ is constituted to commence its normal 
and healthy action from the first, and perform it spontaneously 
throughout life ; and that to a much greater age than any now 
attain. Indeed, it requires great, or else long-continued vio- 
lence to arrest their healthy and pleasurable functions at any 
time between birth and death. Hence, there is no more need 
of our becoming sick, or of these functions becoming enfeebled 
or disordered, than of our shutting our eyes for weeks together, 


or refusing to breathe, or move, or preventing any other func- 
tion by force. The power of the human constitution to resist 
disease is perfectly astonishing. How many readers have 
abused their health outrageously, hundreds of times, with com- 
parative impunity ; and even after they have thus broken 
down their constitutions, have still endured sickness and suffer- 
ing till they wonder that they are alive ? What would your 
health now have been if you had promoted instead of abusing 
it ? How much you could once endure ? How many hard- 
ships go through ? How much it took to break you down ? 
Nor do any of us realize how much we abuse our health. 
Every day and night, and almost hour, we do something more 
or less detrimental to health — ^stay in-doors too much ; or re- 
main much in heated rooms ; or exercise too little ; or else 
labor too much, or not exactly right ; or sleep in close rooms ; 
or eat too much, or what is injurious, or at least a diet less ben- 
eficial than other things we might eat ; or over-tax the mind ; or 
perhaps exercise it too little ; or sit in an unwholesome pos- 
ture ; or neglect the skin ; or dress too warm ; or take cold j 
or one or another of those ten thousand kindred things, more 
or less injurious to health, which all perpetrate daily, and 
almost perpetually. All this, in addition to those extreme im- 
prudences of which almost all are more or less guilty every 
little while. Yet, in spite of all this abuse of health by all, 
see how healthy many continue to be, often for eighty or a 
hundred years. Alcohol is rank poison to the human constitu- 
tion, yet see how many will drink it daily, and often to drunk- 
enness, for thirty, and even fifty years, without destroying 
their health, though they greatly impair it. See what pois- 
onous drugs some will take, yet live through it. In short, 
nature has done her utmost to bestow vigorous and uninter- 
rupted health on every member of the human family, and to 
ward off disease and prolong life. Behold and wonder at the 
physical stamina and energy provided for by nature, and then 
say whether every human being is not constituted for health. 
Even admitting that children often inherit diseases from pa- 
rents, yet the fact that parents have health sufficient to become 
parents, is abundant proof that their ofTspring, by a careful ob- 

A DUTY. 49 

gervance of the laws of health, can ward off the inherited 
predisposition, and enjoy excellent health to a good old age — 
a point fully established in "Hereditary Descent," stereo- 
type edition, and confirmed by the fact, to be established in 
this volume, that all diseases, taken in season, can be warded 
off by a correct physiological regimen. All can therefore 
preserve health and escape disease. 


Since, therefore, health is attainable — is even spontaneous — 
and can be destroyed only with difficulty, and especially, 
since it is thus infinitely valuable ^^, is it not the solemn and 
imperious duty of all to preserve it if good, and regain it if 
impaired ? If not, then there is no such thing as obligation ; 
because we can discharge no duty — accomplish no end — 
without it, and only in proportion to its vigor. Is it not our 
duty to do good, worship God, love and provide for family, 
reason, enjoy the bounties of nature — in short, to exercise all 
the powers and faculties God has graciously bestowed upon 
us ? Unless it is sinful to impair these divine gifts by debility, 
or bury them in a premature grave, then nothing can be 
sinfuL And is it not our duty to give our fellow-men pleasure 
instead of pain ? Is it not then wrong to subject them to all 
the care and weariness of watching around our sick bed, and 
to all the anxiety consequent on our sickness ? And is it not 
most wicked — almost the climax of crime — to break down the 
spirits of dear friends, especially of our own families and 
companions, with anguish by our death, whereas we might, by 
obeying the laws of health, gladden them with our friendship, 
support them by our labors, sustain them by our sympathies, 
and guide them by our counsels ? 

The pain accompanying disease and death, constitutes the 
highest order of proof that they are sinful ; because no pain 
can ever exist except induced by violated law * ^, and violating 
law is sin itself. Avoid sinning and you escape suffering, but 
all suffering is the consequence of sinning ^. The very pain- 
fulness of sickness is therefore the witness of its sinfulness. 
Sickness is caused by violating the laws of health. Such 


violation — all violation — of law is wrong. Therefore all 
sickness is sinful, and the consequent pain is its penalty. 
Health is the ordinance of nature — a fulfilment of the organic 
laws — as well as the great instrumentality of every other duty, 
and therefore our first and highest duty to our fellow-men, 
ourselves, and our God — to our fellow-men because we cannot 
discharge our obligations to them without it, and if sick, we 
wrong them by occasioning them pain ; to ourselves because we 
can perform no duty ^^, and enjoy no blessing \ without it ; and 
to our God because we are under the most imperious obligation 
to obey His laws, those of health of course included. Ye who 
demur, say what " divine eight" have you to violate God's 
laws ? Show " indulgences" from the court of heaven, granting 
permission to trample on divine ordinances, or else admit such 
trespass and its consequent sickness to be wicked. 

Premature death is still more sinful, because occasioned by 
a still greater violation of law — is indeed the chief of crimes. 
Is not suicide most wicked ? Yet it consists in the same breach 
of these same laws, which, broken, cause premature death. 
As to shorten life by self-murder, is a sin of the highest grade, 
so to shorten life by injuring health, is equally wicked, 
because both result precisely alike, namely, in the destruction 
of life, and by similar means, namely, a breach of the same 
laws. Unless we have a " divine right" to commit suicide, 
gradual or sudden, we have none to incur premature death ; 
and inasmuch as suicide is most heinous, by so much, and 
for precisely the same reason, is it equally wicked to induce 
death by the careless exposure or wanton injury of health. 
The extreme painfulness, too, of premature death, is nature's 
proclamation that its cause is proportionately sinful *'. Fraud, 
robbeiy, and the like, are as trifling sins in comparison to the 
destruction of health, as life is more valuable than property ; 
and thus of other crimes. 

" But," objects one, " how can we help dying when death 
comes ?" We have already shown that it will never come, 
unless when summoned by violated law, till old age folds us 
up gradually in a natural and therefore pleasurable decline, 
after we have no more desire for life, or dread of death ^^. It 


is high time that sickness and premature death were consid- 
ered to be what they really are — high-handed crimes, againsi 
humanity, against Divinity. 

Exceptions, of course, occur wherever persons become sick 
or are killed by unavoidable accidents, earthquakes, and the 
like, or by their fellow-men, they being guilty when their 
carelessness occasions such accidents, or they destroy life by 
intent. Yet the guilt is not obviated by being transferred 
from the sufferer to the perpetrator. The same holds true 
where parents occasion the sickness or death of children by con- 
finement, improper regimen, extra tenderness, pampering their 
appetites, administering poisonous medicines, and the like. 

The preservation of health then becomes both our glorious 
PRIVILEGE ^®, and our imperious duty ^^ We should therefore 
STUDY THE LAWS of health, and then implicitly obey them — 
should make obedience to the conditions of health a matter 
of CONSCIENCE, and feel guilty when unwell ; and repent and 
reform. We should allow neither business, nor supposed 
pleasures, nor duties — nothing whatever — to infringe upon 
its perfection, but make health paramount — should sacrifice 
business, property, society — every thing — upon the altar of 
this highest business and duty of life. 

The preservation of health being then both possible, and our 
imperious and paramount duty, and sickness and premature 
death being thus the climax of crime, and also avoidable, 
therefore the means by which we can secure the former and 
prevent the latter become the highest object of human inquiry. 
To this inquiry our subject now brings us. 




its necessity, selection, mastication, and digestion. 

Since health consists in the normal and vigorous action of 
all the physical functions ^°, its preservation of course consists 
in their preservation, and its restoration in their restoration ; 

5!8 POOD. 

nor is any thing else required either to perpetuate health, 
eradicate all forms of disease, and prolong life to "green 
old age" — a means as simple as the end is important ^^ 
What, then, are some of these functions, and by what means 
can they be preserved when vigorous, and restored when 
impaired ? 

28. man's requisition for vitality. 

Man— all animal being — is so constituted that every func- 
tion of life- — every exercise of muscle, nerve, and organ, all 
we say, do, and are, all the operations of our entire and com- 
plicated mental and physical nature expend vitality. As 
no machinery can be propelled without consuming that power 
which impels, so that wonderful mechanism which manufac- 
tures life, mind included, cannot move one iota, in whole or in 
part, without thereby working up that vitality or animal 
energy which constitutes its motive principle. And since life 
consists in a vast variety and complication of functions, some 
of which are often most powerful and intense, of course its 
consumption of vitality must be proportionally great, even 
though individual functions should expend but little. And 
this consumption of vitality is in the exact ratio of that life 
which it produces, because the latter consists in the former. 
And as we sometimes think, feel, do, and therefore live more 
in one hour than at other times in ten or twenty hours, we of 
course consume vital energy proportionally fast. Moreover, 
all these functions are performed with as much more rapidity 
and efficiency when this supply is abundant, than when it is 
reduced, as machinery does when the " head" of steam or 
water is great, than when it is low ; and for a kindred reason. 
Except in cases of corpulency, we think, feel, perform, and 
therefore live more or less easily, vigorously, and effectually 
in proportion as this supply is abundant, and become enfeebled 
in proportion as it declines. 

It is therefore perfectly obvious that unless this great and 
constant consumption is re-supplied, exhaustion must inevita- 
bly follow, which of course proportionally reduces life, and if 
carried too far, suspends it altogether. 


From what sources, then, is this re-supply derived ? Of 
what manufactured, and how augmented, that we may know 
how to keep this " head " of vitality always " high V' 


Man is an eating animal. Food is indispensable to animal 
growth and tissue, and to that terrestrial manifestation of 
mentality connected therewith ". It furnishes an element 
absolutely neceSsary to nutrition and vitality. The second 
thing we instinctively do on entering the world, is to seek 
ALIMENT. The MATERIAL department of man's nature — 
bone, muscle, nerve, organs — is subject to a perpetual waste 
of those materials of which it is composed — a waste com- 
puted to equal one-seventh of the entire body annually, and 
to the whole of it every seven years, but probably much 
greater than this ; which waste must be re-supplied by pro- 
perties eliminated from food by the process of digestion. This 
waste unsupplied, as when food cannot be obtained, or is not 
digested on account of sickness, the subject becomes emaciated, 
perhaps wastes away almost to "skin and bones," and looks 
and feels haggard, ghastly, and " gone ;" his strength fails, 
spirits sink within him, and life ebbs away till it takes its final 
exit. Famine is indeed a " weary thing " to endure, and fatal 
in its effects on mind and body; because it deprives the sys- 
tem of elements indispensable to life. So craving is the de- 
mand for food, that, when it is not supplied, and digestion is 
good, the fatty matter is all taken up by secretion, and emptied 
into the circulation ; then muscular, nervous, cerebral, and oth- 
er tissues follow, until this consumptive process is arrested by 
death. Hence the gaunt, meager aspect of consumptive and 
dyspeptic patients. Hence, also, fat or indolent persons can 
endure famine better than lean or active ones, because the 
corpulent have more to live upon than the spare, and the active 
live the fastest ^. 

All should therefore see to it that they furnish the system 
with all the food it requires. Starvation is even certain and 
speedy ruin. Few can live without food more than from 
twenty to twenty-five days, and most become debilitated, even 


to insensibility, in a much shorter time, and are usually ren- 
dered faint by fasting a single day, or omitting only one meal, 
or even not eating at the usual time. 

This demand for food being thus imperative, and too obvious 
to require additional remark, we proceed to inquire concerning 
its re-supply. 


Vegetable nature is constituted to draw its nourishment 
directly from the earth. Not so with man. His nature 
imperiously demands that his food should consist of substances 
already organized, because inorganic bodies do not contain 
the requisite material. Nor are such bodies wanting, but 
abound in any required quantity and variety. Open our 
eyes wherever we will, upon surrounding nature, we behold 
not only a vast variety of " four-footed beasts and all manner 
of creeping things," but also a vast array and variety of 
vegetable esculents and fruits, delicious to the palate, and 
laden with nourishment for the body. A boundless range of 
edibles is thus spread out broadcast before man, from which 
to make his own selection. Nature neither restricts him in 
variety, nor stints him in quantity ; but says to all, " Arise ; 
prepare and eat.'' Our subject thus brings us naturally 
to the 


As some species of the vegetable kingdom flourish in par- 
ticular kinds of soil, but in no others, that is, require particu- 
lar kinds of sustenance, so some species of the animal kingdom 
are adapted to live on particular kinds of food, and flourish on 
no other. Thus whales fatten on the squid, while lions, 
tigers, and beasts of prey have a natural aptitude for animals 
just killed, whereas herbiverous animals loathe flesh and thrive 
best on a vegetable diet, and particular species of the former 
on given kinds of the latter. Nor can the carnivorous tribes 
subsist — at least not perfect their natures — when fed exclu- 
sively on herbage, nor the sheep live on raw flesh. That 
certain species of animals are constitutionally adapted to 


subsist on particular kinds of food, is both self-evident, and a 
beautiful provision of nature by which to feed a far greater 
number than could otherwise find subsistence. 

The lower the order of animal, moreover, the lower the 
grade of its food. Thus the squid, an exceedingly stupid and 
flabby animal, and so soft in texture that it can be kneaded 
into a homogeneous mass by hand, feeds on a slimy organiza- 
tion of the lowest grade, and in its turn feeds the whale, the 
texture of which is much higher and stronger. Animals 
which feed on carrion, as the jackall, turkey-buzzard, and the 
like, fill a place in the scale of intelligence and power much 
lower than the lion, eagle, etc. The mastodon was — perhaps 
still is — -endowed with a most extraordinary amount of power, 
and accordingly fed on browse, the texture of which is more 
dense and firm than probably anything else eaten. Vegetable 
life is lower in the scale of being than animal, and draws 
its sustenance directly from the earth, which animals can- 
not do. Monkeys are adapted to live on fruits, nuts, eggs, 
and the like, an order of food evidently higher than roots, to 
which the swine is adapted, and accordingly are more highly 
organized. In fact, all animals are superior to their food, else 
they could not seize or pluck it, and sprightly animals, as mice, 
birds, deer, and the like, are food for those still more sprightly, 
as the cat, eagle, tiger, etc. ; while strong or lazy animals 
feed on what is still less so. Indeed, the natural food of any 
animal furnishes a correct index of the character of that ani- 
mal ; and the more limited the food of any species the more 
limited the capacity of that species. So man's range of food 
embraces the diet of nearly all other animals, and accord- 
ingly his characteristics embrace those of the whole animal 


Though man is well nigh omnivorous, yet do all kinds of 
food nourish him equally well ? Is he not, in common with 
all animated nature, also adapted to live more especially on 
particular kinds of food ? These questions are all effectually 
answered by the fundamental law of diet, that particular 


kinds of food are constitutionally adapted to develop certain 
physical and mental qualities, and other kinds other powers 
Thus, that the natural diet of the lion and the tiger is consti 
tutionally adapted to develop both their physiology and men 
tality, and that the natural food of the squirrel, sheep, shark 
etc., is every way adapted to feed those very powers pos 
sessed by these respective animals, and thus of all other spe 
cies, is not a matter of opinion, but a law of nature 
established by the fact that to deprive them of this food is to 
weaken their powers, and usually destroys their lives. A 
position thus based in nature's adaptations — always for the 
best — ^and thus pervading all her works, is too apparent to 
require argument, or any more than its announcement, to 
secure intellectual admission. The simple fact that certain 
species of animals have an aptitude and adaptation for partic- 
ular kinds of food, and flourish on these kinds — that the tiger 
is rendered fiercer by animal food, but loses his ferocity when 
fed on bread-stuffs — that feeding dogs on raw beef increases 
their ferocity, and thus of other animals, together with muck 
to the same purpose, and especially the general economy of 
nature, prove it to be a law of things that certain kinds of 
food are constitutionally adapted to develop certain powers, 
and other kinds other faculties. 

This provision of nature for increasing particular capa- 
cities in man and brute, is exceedingly beautiful in itself, yet 
still more useful. Besides feeding the various natures of 
brute and man, it enables us all to augment or restrain par- 
ticular powers and faculties in ourselves, and thus diminish 
propensity, while we feed our intellectual and moral powers. 

The question then becomes all-important — What kinds of 
food naturally develop particular physical and mental powers ? 
a question as little understood as it is vast in its influence on 
human capability, virtue, and happiness. This subject should 
therefore become the universal study of mankind till he com- 
pletely understands it in all its various ramifications, and 
knows just what to eat and drink in order to stimulate or sub- 
due all his physical and mental powers. Though the author 
does not claim a complete knowledge of this vast and vastly- 


important subject, yet he proposes to point out its land-marks, 
and thus facilitate its general application and further investi- 


Having thus ordained that particular kinds of food shall 
develop particular powers, nature has not left man or brute to 
ascertain by chance, and eat by force, the various kinds best 
for each severally, either in general, or on special occasions, 
but has kindly furnished all with an infallible dietetic guide in 
the natural relish of each for the particular kinds required. 
Unperverted appetite Aviil always conduct all to that diet 
best for them, both in general and on special occasions. This 
principle constitutes a part of that great arrangement by which 
nature secures to all the greatest amount of happiness ^ As 
law obeyed confers enjoyment^ ^, so fulnlling the laws of 
appetite, that is, eating those kinds of food best for us, of 
course yields the highest attainable degree of gustatory plea- 
sure. The very nature of things requires that the diet best 
for any and all should taste best, or else the fundamental 
principle, that fulfilling law confers enjoyment, fails in this 
important aspect ; which is a palpable absurdity. But since 
obedience always confers happiness, therefore eating what 
nature requires of course enhances enjoyment, both gustatory 
and general. Thus, the lion, tiger, and eagle require animal 
food just killed, which they accordingly love better than any 
other, whereas the sheep, horse, rabbit, and the like, thrive best 
on HERBAGE, for which they have a natural relish ; and thus 
of all other anim.als. Nor can any genus, species, or indi- 
vidual of the animal kingdom enjoy any other than its natural 
diet, until appetite has become perverted and vitiated ; nor 
live on unnatural food without enfeebling or destroying its 
peculiar faculties. But all enhance their powers most, as 
well as enjoy themselves and their food best, in and by living 
on their natural diet. This principle all animated nature 
attests, and reason sanctions. Indeed, it is too obvious to 
require argument or amplification ; and of course constitutes 
an infallible guide in the selection of our food for which ;^I1 


should devoutly thank the " Giver of every good and perfect 

None, therefore, need ever deny their natural appetite, but 
all should study how they can most completely gratify it, 
because they thereby promote health and develop their 
powers in the most effectual manner possible. As that diet is 
best which tastes best, of course whenever the system 
requires particular kinds of food to supply exigencies, we may 
rest fully assured that appetite will crave whatever is required, 
and, by converse, that whatever natural appetite craves the 
system requires. The doctrine of self-denial, physiology — all 
nature — utterly repudiates ; but, in the matter of appetite, as 
in every thing else, sanctions, and even requires, self indul- 
gence in the highest and most extensive sense. Self-denial 
IS SINFUL. Self-enjoyment should be our universal motto. 

Bear in mind, then, ye lovers of good living, that this 
volume does not come to "choke you off" from any real 
dainty or luxury whatever of the palate — of life — but to show 
you how you can the most effectually enjoy your food — enjoy 
all the luxuries of your being. 


But, though natural appetite is a certain guide to the kinds 
of food, both general and specific, required by man and brute, 
yet, in common with every other function of our nature, it is 
capable of being perverted, and then always misleads. 
Thus, a cow on ship-board, driven at first by hunger to eat 
meat mixed with vegetables, came at length to relish a flesh 
diet, and could hardly be induced to return to her natural 
food. Tigers have been fed on farinaceous food, and many 
kindred cases of perverted appetite have been known to occur 
in the animal kingdom. Man's relish, too, can become so 
perverted as to like and even crave what is most noxious in 
itself, and injurious in its effects. Of this, a hankering after 
tobacco, coffee, ardent-spirits, malt-liquors, and the like, among 
moderns, and the love of the ancients for asafcetida, etc., 
furnish samples. Indeed, so almost universal is this per- 
version in civilized life, that probably every reader is its vie- 


tim ; and hence the popularity of many dishes exceedingly 
nauseating to natural appetite, and injurious to the system. 
Though nature tells us plainly what we should eat and what 
eschew, by implanting a natural relish for the former and 
aversion to the latter, yet when highly injurious diet is habit- 
ually FORCED upon her, she accommodates herself to it as well 
as she can, and ultimately even partially craves it, yet never 
enjoys it with that keen gustatory pleasure experienced for 
her constitutional food. In fact, few have any conception of 
the amount of table enjoyment which we should all take if 
our appetites were unperverted. An unnatural appetite and 
consequent disordered digestion, rob civilized life of that real 
LUXURY of the palate proffered by nature, but bartered away 
for the spurious and inferior gratification of modern cookery. 
Nature's infallible pilot to a healthy diet is thus superseded 
by artificial and unnatural hankerings — always more craving 
than natural appetite — the gratification of which induces 
hosts of diseases and premature death, literally frightful to 
contemplate and truly horrible to experience ^^ Let us all, 
then, heed the double warning held out to us by this principle, 
and bear in mind that we follow the unnatural cravings of our 
depraved appetites — perverted doubtless in the cradle, if not 
before — at our peril — to the enfeebling if not destruction of 
mind and body ; and that, by indulging a perverted appetite, 
we cut oflTthe very enjoyments of the palate sought therein. 

This work may, therefore, recommend a system of diet at 
first less palatable to some than the one now preferred, yet if 
it recommends nature's system, it, followed, will double and 
quadruple those very pleasures of the appetite. The author 
is no ascetic. Pains and penance form no part of his religion 
or his philosophy. Everywhere the natural is to be substi- 
tuted for the unnatural — of course the pleasurable supersedes 
the painful. Nor is even the breaking off of abnormal habits, 
or the formation of correct ones, necessarily a self-denial, but 
even a present as well as subsequent pleasure. The doctrine 
of our first paragraph is a fundamental law of things, ap- 
plicable universally, and renders returning from transgression 
not necessarily painful, but constitutionally pleasurable ; for 


if obedience itself is pleasurable, why not also returning there- 
to ? As, then, the natural appetite probably of us all is more 
or less morbid and perverted, it behooves us to ascertain man's 
constitutional diet, and restore to it its original food, which we 
shall then relish far better than we now do all the " flesh-pots" 
of civilization. Thus to sacrifice an unnatural appetite upon 
the altar of a natural one, is not self-denial, but self-interest, 
and therefore to be eagerly sought, instead of dreaded. How- 
ever depraved our cravings, they can be measurably brought 
back to their normal tone, and this invaluable dietetic guide 
restored, so that it will conduct us all to the food best for mind 
and body. Let us, then, turn a deaf ear to the clamors of 
perverted appetite, and follow where nature leads, fully assured 
that a change from the artificial to the natural will result in a 
far higher order of gustatory and general enjoyment than we 
now experience. 


In casting about for the constitutional food of man, two die 
tetic systems, both capable of sustaining life, are presented t(s 
our choice — animal and vegetable. Is man constituted to live 
exclusively on either ? If so, on which ? Or is a mixed diet 
best calculated to develop all his powers ? If so, mixed in 
what proportions 1 Grave questions these, which natural ap- 
petite would answer for us, yet the reply to which perverted 
appetite compels us to seek elsewhere. But happily nature 
proclaims her economy in more ways than one, so that, though 
natural appetite, her best index, is generally perverted, yet she 
has not left the least shadow of doubt or uncertainty to obscure 
her answer to these momentous questions. 

What, then, are the respective influences on mind and body 
—on human happiness — of an exclusively animal diet? What 
of one exclusively vegetable ? * And what of a mixed diet, 

* By the term vegetable diet, used in this vohirae, is meant one composed 
of any or all kinds of grains, gums, fruits, and nuts ; of eggs, milk, butter, 
cheese, sweets, vegetable oils, and all edibles not strictly animal, as well 
as of vegetables proper The term farinaceous will often be used in a 
kindred sense. 


and mixed in various proportions ? In short, what shall we 
eat in order to attain the acme of human perfection and en- 
joyment ? Though none advocate an exclusively animal diet 
as best for man, yet its constitutional and general effects on the 
animal and mental economy will show, by approximation, 
whether a mixed one is best, and if so, what proportion should 
consist of meat. What, then, are the constitutional effects of 
animal, and what of vegetable food ? 


We have shown that certain species of animals relish cer- 
tain kinds of food, and other species other kinds ^^ But why ? 
Nature never does any thing for nothing. Some reason — 
some beneficial end — characterizes all her operations. Then 
what object does she attain in thus diversifying the diet of the 
entire animal kingdom ? Evidently the more perfect nutrition 
of each and all. This conclusion conforms with that general 
fitness and appropriateness which obtain throughout all nature 
does and requires. Does her economy observe this fitness 
throughout all the rest of her works, and yet fail to adapt the 
natural diet of the lion, tiger, shark, horse, swine, squirrel, and 
all other animals, to the sustenance of their respective natures ? 
Would grass nourish the physiology and mentality of the hy- 
ena, eagle, and whale, or flesh the sheep and ox, equally as 
well as the converse now does ? Is not flesh adapted to sus- 
tain the natures of carnivorous animals, herbage that of her- 
biverous, nuts of the rodentia, insects and grain the winged, and 
thus of all that eats ? Else why their respective aptitudes 
for their natural diets ? What stronger proof could be required 
or had that the natural food of all animals is constitutionally 
calculated to nourish their respective characteristics, mental 
and physical, than that furnished by this law of adaptation ? 
To argue a principle thus self-evident, the truth of which is 
guarantied by nature's universal economy, is like arguing an 
axiom ; yet, as it constitutes a universal dietetic guide, every 
doubt of its correctness should be obviated. 

If additional proof of this fundamental law, that the natu- 
ral diet of all animals is constitutionally adapted to feed the 


respective qualities of those animals, is desired, it is to be 
found in the fact, that the food of all animals bears a close re- 
semblance to the natures of those animals which feed on it. 
Thus, sprightly animals generally live on a sprightly diet ; as 
the cat on mice, the tiger and lion on the antelope, etc. Tall 
animals, as the giraffe, mastodon, and the like, live on what 
grows high, and moles on what grows close to or in the ground. 
Fish live mostly on what swims, and the swallow on flying in- 
sects, whereas birds which fly less live more on worms and 
seeds, till we come down to domestic fowls, which fly little, 
and live mainly on what does not fly. The natural diet of 
swine is mainly roots — a coarse animal feeding on coarse food. 
Strong animals, as the mastodon, moose, elephant, and the elk, 
live much on the ends of limbs — about the firmest food eaten — 
while horses and cattle relish hay, which is fibrous and tough, 
as its consumers are hardy and muscular. Sharks, the strong- 
est and fleetest of fish of their size, feed on other fish next in 
speed and strength to themselves. Monkeys, confessedly the 
highest order of animals except man, feed on fruit and nuts, 
obviously the highest order of vegetables except grains and 
the first class of fruits — reserved for man. The nutrition of 
nuts, too, is highly concentrated, and their structure very dense. 
Mark one more universal illustration of this law. Animals 
are confessedly higher in the scale of capacity and enjoyment 
than vegetables, and in accordance with our principle, must 
feed on what has already been organized^"; whereas vegeta- 
bles, being lower in structure and function, can sustain them- 
selves by a far lower order of nourishment — one drawn from 
the earth, organized too low to support animal life. And, in 
general, the higher the grade of any animal, the higher the 
order of its food. Even the vegetable kingdom observe this 
law of correspondence with their food. Thus the grape, an 
exceedingly juicy fruit, seeks a wet location, and so do pears 
and plums, whereas apples, less juicy, thrive best on dry soils. 
Though apparent exceptions may perhaps be cited, yet the gen- 
eral law is perfectly obvious, that there is something in the natu- 
ral diet of all that eats or grows peculiarly adapted to sustain 
both the physical and mental characteristics of its consumer. 


We might fortify this position by almost any amount of 
evidence, but respectfully submit, whether it is not so pal- 
pably and universally a law of things as to render additional 
proof superfluous. Who can doubt its being a simple yet 
effectual means by which nature develops the physiology and 
mentality of all that eats ? 

This fundamental principle of dietetics constitutes an infalli- 
ble answer to that momentous question, "What shall we eat ?" 
" What kind of food will develop particular powers of mind 
and body ?" Since the natural food of the tiger is constitu- 
tionally adapted to develop the characteristics of the tiger, and 
that of the sheep the disposition of the sheep, and thus of all 
other animals, therefore man has only to live on the natural 
diet of the tiger, or the horse, or the monkey, to develop in 
himself, only in a far higher degree, the particular faculties 
which predominate in these respective animals ; and thus of 
any and all others. Here is nature's fundamental dietetic 
law, and man's great dietetic guide — as plain, as infallible, 
as God could render them. We proceed to their more detailed 


That the constitutional effect of animal food is to excite the 
animal propensities more, relatively, than the moral sentiments 
and intellect, is established by the natural history of the entire 
animal kingdom, and by the universal experience of mankind, 
both in masses and individuals. As the natural diet of all 
animals is constitutionally calculated to develop their respect- 
ive natures ^^, and as the paramount characteristic of all car- 
nivorous animals is rapacity and ferocity, therefore animal 
food, eaten by man, naturally and necessarily develops a like 
rapacious fierceness in him also ; whereas a vegetable diet is 
constitutionally adapted to foster docility and goodness. If 
any do not like this result they cannot get by that law in 
which it is based, that the natural diet of all animals is consti- 
tutionally adapted to sustain the peculiarities of their respec- 
tive natures ^^ Re-read that section attentively, and see if it 
does not imbody an ordinance of nature. Scan its logic, 


scrutinize its bearings, and especially its harmony with 
nature's adaptations, and see whether the principle it contains 
does or does not express a dietetic law. If not, then this our 
inference might possibly be fallacious. But if that principle be 
true — and that it is so, all eating nature attests — then this neces- 
sary consequence, that animal food constitutionally develops 
Combativeness and Destructiveness mainly, is an ordmance of 
nature ; so that man cannot eat flesh without developing 
ferocity. Perverted appetite may remonstrate, but nature will 
not hear such croakings, but sternly executes her inflexible 
decrees ; and man secures his own interests when he conforms 
to her ordinances. 

This doctrine that flesh-food constitutionally excites ferocity 
is still farther established by its being necessary in the killing 
of food. The very existence of carnivorous animals depends 
upon and requires this ferocity. Without it their sharp claws, 
hooked tusks, and powerful muscles — all adapting them to 
pounce upon and slay their prey — would be as useless as 
swords accompanied with cowardice, or lions and tigers with- 
out Destructiveness. What could a sheep do with claws and 
tusks ? Would nature create these instruments of death with- 
out also creating predominant Destructiveness to accompany 
them ? Destructiveness and a flesh diet are as universal con- 
comitants as fire and heat ; else nature is not adapted to her- 
self; nor can they be separated without destroying both. 

Nor is this concomitance of propensity and flesh diet proved 
by this adaptation merely ; it is still farther established by 
FACTS. How frightful the roar of the chafed lion ? How ter- 
rific the horrid yell of the exasperated tiger ? — only expressions 
of their terrible Destructiveness. You provoke them at your 
peril. Remains there a reasonable doubt that warm blood 
and raw flesh, yet quivering with life, are constitutionally 
adapted to enhance animality ? Does not this concomitance 
carry its warrant upon its very front ? Animal food, there- 
fore, stimulates animal propensity. 

Facts — those stubborn way-marks of first principles — also 
still farther attest this concorhitance. Thus, take a dog, about 
medium for crossness, and feed him for months or years on 


vegetables alone, and you increase his docility ; but feed him 
exclusively on raw flesh, and he becomes fierce and danger, 
ous — his Destructiveness being inflamed by a flesh diet, but 
tamed down by farinaceous food. Hence the known ferocity 
of butchers' dogs. Slaughter-houses are often left with both 
doors wide open to air the meat, yet our arrant thieves — by no 
means wanting in number. Acquisitiveness, cunning, or cour- 
age — are kept at bay as effectually as if an unchained tiger 
guarded the premises. The ferocity of meat-glutted, blood- 
fed dogs is proverbial. Not so with those fed on vegetables. 
Why this known difference ? Our principle answers. 

But a tiger, caught while young and fed on a farinaceous 
diet, became so tame that it was allowed to go unchained about 
the premises, and ate its food from the hand, even after it was 
grown up. Nor is this taming of the tiger — that fiercest of 
all animals — by means of a vegetable diet, more extraordinary 
than its converse of increasing the ferocity of the dog by ani- 
mal food, which we may all see with our own eyes. Both are 
counterparts of each other and of the same great dietetic law 
before us. 


"Admitted," says one, "that animal food stimulates the 
propensities of beasts more than vegetables, yet is th^s true of 
MAN ?" Quite as true as of animals. The ancients, in train- 
ing their public fighters for their bloody arenas, in which 
strength and ferocity were mainly required, fed them chiefly 
on raw flesh, and at the fiendishness thereby produced, all 
after ages have been and will be astonished. Diversified 
experience taught them that there was something in the diet 
of the lion and the tiger which kindled in the man a ferocity 
like that which predominates in beasts of prey. 

This experiment of the ancients might seem too restricted 
for our reliance if it had not been tried, in every variety of 
modification, over and over again thousands of times, on the 
largest and most extensive scale imaginable, from the earliest 
records of humanity to the present time. Contrast the peace- 
able, life-sparing Egyptians, throughout their entire history, 


with the animal and man-slaughtering Jews. The former 
considered the killing of animals to be a great crime, the 
latter, a religious ordinance. The former ate little or no 
meat, and were amiable and harmless, instead of warlike and 
cruel, throughout their entire history. The latter, from 
pastoral Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, were shepherds 
throughout all their generations, and lived mainly on the flesh 
of their flocks, besides slaughtering immense herds of cattle 
and sheep on their altars, and then consuming the greater 
part of their sacrifices for food ; and a more bloodthirsty race 
is not on record. Look at their David, truly, " a man of 
blood" — at their ravaging wars, internal and external, through- 
out their national history ; and last, but not least, at the terrible 
carnage which accompanied their final overthrow. Was ever 
the "trump of war" sounded, from the time Abram armed 
" his own household" and slaughtered five kings at once, till 
the destruction of Jerusalem, without being catched and re- 
sounded, and again re-echoed throughout hill and dale, till it 
swept the entire land, and brought together old and young, in 
martial array, eager to rush upon the field of deadly combat ? 
And is there no relation between this peaceable character and 
vegetable diet of the Egyptians on the one hand, and the car- 
nivorous diet and bloodthirsty disposition of the Jews on the 
other 1 especially since a flesh diet is constitutionally promo- 
tive of ferocity, and a vegetable of docility ^^. 

The* Greeks and Romans, too, ate meat in abundance, and 
the terror of their arms attest a corresponding ferocity of 
temper. The ancients generally lived on animal food, and 
accordingly were exceedingly warlike. A similar contrast 
of those who inhabit the middle and northern latitudes, who 
generally eat meat freely, with the inhabitants of the tropics, 
who eat little flesh, conducts us to similar conclusions. 

But we need not look to other climes or eras for "confirma- 
tion strong as holy writ," of our doctrine, that animal food 
excites propensity, especially Destructiveness. Savages gen- 
erally live mostly on meat ; hence, to a great extent, their 
savage disposition. The warwhoop Indian lives mainly by the 
chase, and behold his unrelenting revenge. See him bury his 


teeth in the live flesh of his captured enemy, and, tiger-like, 
suck out his warm blood, exultingly exclaiming, " The sweet- 
est morsel I ever tasted." Hear him pow-wow around his 
helpless victims, and, fiend-like, torture them by slow degrees 
to death, by the most excruciating cruelties possible to inflict. 
Revenge is the food of the soul whenever flesh is that of the 
body. Savage ferocity is the natural product of animal food. 
Point to the flesh-eating nation, now or ever, not destructive. 
And those are most so who live most on flesh. Does not 
"John Bull's" "roast beef" bear some cause-and-eflTect 
relation to his warlike valor on the field of slaughter, as well 
as to his crusty overbearance at home ? Look, in contrast, at 
vegetable-eating nations. The Hindoo neither eats meat nor 
loves war ; and the Chinese eat but little meat, and are inferior 
fighters. Hence, their unprecedented numbers. Contrast the 
amiable Japanese, who eschew meat, and rightly consider 
tho slaughter of animals a sin, with the New Zealand canni- 
bal, who eats little but meat, and even his own race. The 
fact is no less remarkable in itself than true to our principle, 
that all savage nations are flesh-eaters, and the more ferocious 
the more exclusively they live on meat ; whereas all humane, 
docile, good-dispositioned, peaceable nations, live on farina- 
ceous food. As in all carnivorous animals, Destructiveness pre- 
dominates, in head and character, so all flesh-eating nations 
have likewise great Destructiveness in organ and disposition, 
while, as this organ is small and faculty weak in herbiverous 
animals, so are they also deficient in granivorous nations. 
And what renders it certain that this diflerence is caused 
mainly by diet, in man as well as brute, is, that Destructive- 
ness is the CONSTITUTIONAL concomitaut of animal food, and 
necessary in procuring meat^^ 

Animal food also inflames Destructiveness, and renders it 
morbid as well as large ; thus rendering any given amount 
of it proportionally far more destructive. Thus, this organ is 
relatively less in the Anglo-American head than in that of the 
Germans, Scotch, Russians, and many others ; yet it is rela- 
tiveley more excitable, as evinced by the greater harshness, 
hatred, and severity of temper, in the former than latter ; and 


accordingly the former eat by far the greatest proportion of 
meat. This fact in man corresponds with the increased 
ferocity of dogs when fed on flesh ". Behold how all the 
different facts and bearings of this great truth correspond with 
all the others — -an irrefutable evidence of its truth. " But," it 
is contended, 

39. ''meat gives force and strength." 

Brute force it does, but of this man has relatively too 
much already, as we shall soon show. " Would you then," it 
is farther objected, "have us abstain from flesh, and thus 
become as pusillanimous as the Hindoos ?" But are the meat- 
eating Indian and Laplander so very forcible ? What have 
they ever accomplished — what triumphs ever achieved other 
than with the scalping-knife and tomahawk ? If meat alone 
gives force, one Indian would master two "pale-faces;" 
whereas, one white man is equal to a score of red ones. 
The former eat less meat, yet, under every disadvantage, 
have driven the latter back and back again, farther and still 
farther upon the setting sun, till they bid fair — foul ? — to 
exterminate his race. Or is the Indian character in itself so 
VERY desirable ? Rather, is it not, in common with that of all 
flesh-eaters, hateful ? Or are the New Zealanders so very 
forcible, at least for good ? Qr the Chinese so pusillanimous, 
except in war ? If China is not forcible in butchery, human 
included, yet is she wanting in any of the essential elements 
of energy ? Look at her canals, her commerce, and her pro- 
ducts, and to call her inefficient is to misapply terms. Knock 
off" those shackles of antiquity which bind her hand and foot 
to past ages, and she would soon vie with our own nation in 
energy and productiveness. Or hamper us with fetters of 
more than three thousand years, and see how every species of 
public and private enterprise would be held stationary as in a 
vice. Or feed all China on meat, and you would undoubtedly 
cripple instead of incite. You might, indeed, render the 
masses too turbulent to submit to authority — might engender 
private animosities and foment public rebellions ; and by thus 
changing their government and laws, promote ultimate 


energy; yet this effect would be incidental, not legitimate. 
The turbulence of our ancestors, fostered by flesh-eating, has 
so changed the governments and institutions of antiquity as to 
have ultimately substituted our own instead of their druidical, 
narrow, and restrictive; and we owe our energj'- to these 
governmental changes, not directly to meat. 

Admitted that meat gives force, yet mark the kind of force 
it imparts. Analogous to that of the tiger and wolf — force to 
dare and kill rather than to do. Does the lion accomplish 
so much more than the horse ? Or is the wild bull so extra 
tame or feeble ? Do not both the strongest and the fleetest of 
animals live on vegetables ? The elephant and rhinoceros eat no 
meat, yet their muscular power and endurance far transcend 
those of the lion and tiger. The deer, antelope, and gazelle, 
feed on herbage, yet distance all flesh-eating animals in the 
open chase. What flesh-eater is more sprightly and nimble 
than the gazelle and chamois ? Since, therefore, the fleetest 
and the strongest of animals eat no meat, must man eat it or 
be weak or sluggish ? Or to apply this principle directly to 
man : Is the Highland Scotchman, who was brught up on oat- 
meal, and tasted meat no oftener than the moon quartered, so 
very inefficient ? Are the potatoe-fed Irish weak ? Can our own 
beef-gourmands dig or carry more 1 Try, ye meat advocates. 
The rice-fed Chinese will outdo " John Bull" and " Uncle 
Sam," except in shedding blood. So will the herbivorous 
inhabitants of the Pacific isles. But if man's constitution 
demanded meat, those who fulfilled this ordinance of their 
natures, would far exceed those who do not ; whereas the fact 
is the reverse, and this proves a meat diet to be unnecessary 
to strength. 

Not that animal food does not develop muscular strength. 
Carnivorous animals are strong, but herbivorous are still 
stronger, yet have less propensity. Hence, since meat devel- 
ops propensity ^^, yet is not necessary to either strength or 
force — since it animalizes and depraves, and thus does a posi- 
tive damage but not a necessary good — why injure ourselves 
by its consumption ? 



Candid reader, do these views require additional proof? Are 
they not in accordance with nature ? Is not their sweep so 
extensive, arid their bearing so unequivocal, as to demand the 
assent of every lover of truth ? Can proof be more extensive 
or diversified ? Not that we have adduced it all,, but does rea- 
son demand more ? Yet, partly for the encouragement of the 
wavering, and partly to finish out our subject, on descending 
from these ranges of facts to isolated cases, we find similar 
results. Take, first, a chapter in the author's history. In 1835, 
he changed his diet from mixed to exclusively farinaceous. 
Previous to this, his health was in a. decline, and he fast 
verging towards consumption. For a year or more following, 
he never tasted meat, and never enjoyed as good health before 
or since. Nor at any other period of his life could he ever 
perform as much mental labor, or, considering all the circum- 
stances, write as vigorously, as at that period. But the great 
difficulty of obtaining the diet he wanted, almost compelled 
him, in his peregrinations, to eat some meat, or else what he 
regaixled as worse. And he exceedingly regrets a partial de- 
cline, though for twelve years his consumption of meat has 
been comparati\ely trifling; and he designs to render it still 
less, if not to suppress it altogether ; or if he should occasion- 
ally eat a little, it will not be from choice, but because rather 
this than worse. 

The experience of R. Goss is still more in point, because 
more thorough. He has abstained wholly from flesh for eleven 
years, and finds grievous maladies to which he was before 
subject, now wholly removed, his strength greatly increased, 
and state of mind far more happy. He has walked — or rather 


minutes, and finds no trouble in walking fifty miles per day. 

Take Sylvester Graham. Produce the man of his age — 
over fifty years — as sprightly and young in constitution as he 
is. Yet he was once a confirmed invalid, and driven to a fari- 
naceous diet as his only salvation from impending death. The 
author has never seen any one at any age more youthful and 


elastic. And he grows younger in constitution as he becomes 
older in years. Behold the change ! See whether another 
generation does not see him still young in all the essential 
attributes of youth. 

But he is accused of eating flesh. Thus saith floating ru- 
mor, but where is the proof ? If he ate it, some one would 
step forward with names, dates, and places. We live in a 
tattling and calumniating age — one that would slander an an- 
gel. Besides, Graham is an honest man, and would not betray 
his friends or belie his pretensions. Thus saith his phrenology, 
his physiognomy, and his general conduct. I do not believe 
the charge. 

Many of his stanch disciples are living witnesses that meat 
is not necessary to health and strength. The finest children 
the author has ever seen — and he has examined professionally, 
and therefore minutely, many thousands — have never tasted 
flesh. Look at Graham's farinaceous boy. But his flesh- 
eating girl, whose regimen her mother insisted on controlling, 
is in her grave. I wish my own children had never tasted, 
and would never taste, a mouthful of meat. Increased health, 
efiiciency, talents, virtue, and happiness, would undoubtedly 
be the result. But for the fact that my table is set for others 
than my own wife and children, it would never be furnished 
with meat — so strong are my convictions against its utility. 
Every thorough vegetable experimenter of whom the author 
has inquired — and they are many — has borne witness to the 
beneficial effects of the change from flesh to vegetables. A 
few who have half tried, have condemned it as injurious ; yet 
such have not supplied the place of meat with the kinds of 
vegetables required as substitutes. Meat is also a powerful 
tonic, and the reaction consequent on taking away this artifi- 
cial stimulant affected them much as the leaving off" ardent 
spirits, or tobacco, or opium, affects those accustomed to them ; 
and they mistook the consequent prostration for permanent 
debility, whereas in due time nature would have rallied, and 
they been the more vigorous from abating the unnatural stim- 
ulant. But more on substitutes for meat when we come to 
treat of animal heat. 


To continue with our facts. Determined to investigate this 
whole subject of flesh-eating to the bottom, and to subject the 
dietetic principles of this work to the tribunal of facts, tried 
under all sorts of circumstances, besides inquiring by letter as 
well as verbally, of all whose experience he thought could 
shed any light over this mooted subject, and also reading 
somewhat extensively, he received the following answer to one 
of his inquiries concerning the 


A religious sect, one branch of which resides in Philadel- 
phia, and other branches in the old country, whose creed 
interdicts flesh of every description, and some of whose 
ancestors, for several generations, have wholly eschewed its 
use. It runs thus : — 

Kensington^ Philadelphia, Fehruary QOlh, 1846. 
Mr. Fowler: 

Mt Dear Sir — Yours of the 16th instant came duly to hand, and 
I hasten, with great pleasure, to give you whatever information I 
can, respecting the physical effects of vegetable diet on human life, 
and particularly on the lives of myself and those who constitute the 
little religious community over whom Providence has placed me as 
their spiritual pastor. 

The name by which we ai*e known as a religious society, is that 
of Bible Christians. One of the peculiar doctrines of our denomi- 
nation is, that " Eating the flesh of animals is a violation of the first 
dietetic law, given to mankind by the Creator, as a guide to moral 
and physical health." His laws are, like Himself, " The same 
yesterday, to-day, and forever." To ti'ansgress His laws by killing 
animals as food, we consider sinful, and equally so to drink wine, 
spirits, or any beverage having the power to intoxicate. In these 
doctrines you will perceive we fully concur with the apostle ; " It is 
good neither to eat flesh nor to drink wine." So far as I am individ- 
ually concerned, I may be permitted to add, that since September, 
1809, I have so strictly conformed to these principles, that I have 
not even once tasted of either fish, or flesh, or fowl ; nor drank any- 
thing intoxicating. 

Our little religious society had its commencement in Philadel- 
phia, in the year 1817, and consisted, at that time, of only seven or 
eight members. By an act of incorporation, granted by the Legisla- 


ture of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania in 1830, it is ordained 
that "none can be members of the Bible Christian Church but 
those who conform to the rules, regulations, and discipline of said 
Church ; which rules require abstinence from animal food, spiritu- 
ous and intoxicating liquors, initiation by Baptism, and partaking of 
the sacrament or Eucharist." Our present number of members, 
according to the above criterion of membership, is seventy. Besides 
these, there are about thirty others, more or less connected with 
us, who abstain from animal food and intoxicating drinks, but are not 
yet considered full members. Of our members there are — 

2 who have lived on the vegetable system 37 years, now 

aged between _ - - 70 and 80 

4 do do do do 60 and 70 

6 do do do do 50 and 60 

7 do do from 20 to 30 years, 40 and 50 
21 who have never eaten animal food nor drank anything 

intoxicatiag, - - - - 25 and 40 

30 do do do do under 25 

During the period between 1817 and 1846, ten persons have, at 
different times, fallen away from our principles, and returned to 
flesh-eating, and twelve have died ; four of these were children ; 
of the others — 

1 was aged 72 years, abstained from flesh, etc., 
do do 

do do 

do do 

do do 

do do 

^° f J each 10 do 

do do > 

The two last died of puerperal fever. 

The ability of our people to work, (for we all belong to the 
working class, and earn our bread by the sweat of our brow,) is 
fully equal to the flesh-eating community among whom we live, 
and in several instances considerably superior. Experience and 
observation have convinced us that neither flesh nor intoxicating 
liquors are essential to physical strength, or to the long continued 
endurance of laborious exertions. In a mental point of view, it is 
generally conceded that a vegetable and farinaceous diet is more 
favorable to the development of the intellectual and moral faculties 
than a flesh or mixed diet. 
7 . 




























When the yellow fever broke out at the foot of Market street, 
in the autumn of 1818, my residence was in the immediate vicinity 
of the infected district, namely, in Front near Market street. 
There I continued with my family, while most of our neighbors 
fled from the site for fear of being affected with that dreaded malady ; 
yet we all continued to enjoy excellent health. The year following 
our experience was similar. During the period of the cholera, I 
am not aware that any of our members were in the least affected by 
that disorder. My duties as a minister frequently led me to the 
bedside of the sick and d3dng poor, and often to perform the last 
obsequies over the dead ; yet amidst all these painful duties, the 
same kind and merciful Providence which "tempers the winds to 
the shorn lamb," protected and preserved me in the enjoyment of 
uninterrupted health. You doubtless reniember there were many 
conflicting mmors of opinions among eminent physicans and others, 
about the propriety of avoiding vegetables and'fruits during the 
continuance of the epidemic. I have no knowledge that any of our 
members made the least alteration in their accustomed mode of 
diet during that time, and yet they all escaped suffering from that 
fatal contagion. In my own family, vegetables and fruits were as 
freely used as in former seasons, without suffering any incon- 

In adopting a vegetable diet, and abstinence from inebriating 
di'inks, our denomination was actuated by religious principle. We 
believe it to be wrong to take animal life for the purpose of satis- 
fying appetite. This faith is founded on the testimony of the Bible^ 
and when we took this advance we knew comparatively little of the 
laws of Physiology. We thought that kind of knowledge belonged 
exclusively to the province of the physician. We have since 
learned otherwise, and the more we have studied Physiology and 
Phrenology and become familiar with their laws, in order to enjoy 
health and improve our race, the more perfectly have w^e been 
favored with that invaluable blessing. 

1 I regret that it is not in my power, at present, to give you any 
satisfectoiy information respecting the number of our denomination 
in England, or the nature of their experience. In Manchester there 
are three churches, in which these views of dietetics are publicly 
inculcated as a religious duty ; and I know many persons in various 
parts of the kingdom who are advocates and friends of a vegetable 
diet. I will take pleasure in forwarding your interrogatories to 
some of my friends there, who, I am persuaded, will be happy in 
furnishing every information in their power. 


You ask for information on the subject of works advocating the 
vegetable system of diet. I presume you are in possession of 
whatever is valuable from the American press — Graham, Alcott, 
Bell, etc., etc. I have already sent you my address, etc., and two 
or three other pamphlets. I forward you with this, "A System 
of Vegetable Cookery, etc.," by my friend in Manchester, Rev. 
Dr. Scholefield. The introduction may probably be useful to you. 
In a letter received from the Doctor, he informs me that a veiy 
useful work is just issued from the London press, entitled, " Fiiiits 
and Farinacea the proper food of Man ; being an attempt to prove 
from Histoiy, Anatomy, Physiology, and Chemistry, that the 
original, natural, and best diet of man is derived from the vegetable 
kingdom :" London, published by John Churchill, Princess street, 
Soho. 8vo. Price in cloth 95. I have not yet seen the work. 
There is also a work on " Water-Cure," which has lately appeared 
in England, that goes strongly against flesh. I know of no other 
recent publications of the kind you are seeking. 

With great respect, I remain, 

My dear sir, yours, truly, 

To O. S. Fowler, Esq. WILLIAM METCALFE. 

The author saw one of this sect in 1839, who was reputed 
to be the strongest man in Philadelphia. Inquire, reader, at 
the shrine of universal fact, as the author has done, and you 
will find the response, whether coming from masses or indi- 
viduals, to accord with this testimony. When we see that the 
strongest, the nimblest, and the swiftest of animals, attain their 
speed and power on vegetables ; that man can have all the 
force, strength, and endurance required, without flesh as well 
as with it ; that flesh heats up the passions — already many fold 
too strong — and that abstainers are the happier without than 
with, I repeat, why impair and debase the man by eating the 
animal ? 


For what could the lion, or tiger, or butcher do with active 
Benevolence or Conscientiousness ? Sympathy for their poor 
victim would effectually prevent its slaughter — would close 
the jaws of the one, and stay the uplifted knife of the other. 
Large moral organs in carnivorous animals would starve 


them, and in man, unless stifled or perverted, would interdict 
all destruction of life for food. What well-organized child 
ever beheld an animal slaughtered for the first time, without 
almost an agony of sympathy ? Or can any highly benevo- 
lent adult, especially female, endure the distressing sight, un- 
less accustomed to it ? How tender-hearted woman shudders 
thereat, and shrinks therefrom ! Yet she is not unduly sym- 
pathetic. This alone brands animal butchery as wicked, 
because it necessarily violates those higher moral senti- 
ments which constitute no inconsiderable portion of female 

Condensed, the argument is this : Such slaughter blunts 

those finer moral feelings which should reign supreme , 

and therefore violates a fundamental law of man's nature. 
Of course, all the legitimate consequences of such violation 
occasion pain^ Animal food is therefore injurious, because 
it can be procured only by violating man's moral constitution. 
Is God indeed so short-sighted as to render animal slaughter 
— in necessary conflict with that exalted moral sentiment. Be- 
nevolence — essential to human perfection ? Can any good 
come out of violated law ? Especially of the highest order 
of laws — the moral ? Is man indeed cobipelled to violate this 
moral law, in order to perfect his nature ? Must he break one 
law to fulfil another ? Do lav/s thus clash ? Is nature thus in 
conflict with her own self? 

"But brute kills brute. Then why not man kill beast? 
Has God denied to us a privilege he accords to brutes ?" ob- 
jects one. As those coarsely organized, can do many things 
which excite disgust and repugnance in those keenly sensi- 
tive and fine-feeling, so brutes can do what would shock the 
keener susceptibilities of humanity. Beasts of prey have lit- 
tle or no Benevolence to violate, and hence violate none when 
they slay to eat — but fulfil a law. If man had no sympathy 
for distress — and what would he be better than beast without it 
— he, too, might prey upon brute and man ; but he has, and 
therefore must not abuse it by butchering inoffensive animals. 

Volume two will show that no one faculty should ever be 
so exercised as to clash with the normal function of any other • 


because such conflict necessarily occasions great mental an- 
guish, and violates a moral law. Hence, smce the exercise 
of Destructiveness in slaughtering animals necessarily pains 
active Benevolence, such slaughter is, of course, wicked. 
Habit may indeed harden the butcher's Benevolence, till it 
ceases to remonstrate ; yet this leaves him just so far practi- 
cally destitute of it, and therefore imperfect by the loss of an 
essential mental element, and sinful in omitting to exercise a 
faculty which his mental constitution imperiously demanded 
him to exercise. Nor is it possible to gainsay or resist this 
anti-killing argument. 

"But the flesh-EATER does not kill, and therefore cannot in- 
cur this blunting of the moral sentiments," objects one. Ex- 
actly the converse. As the " bloody Mary" did not bind the 
martyrs, nor light the fires of Smithfield, yet signed their 
death-warrants, and as Robespierre only ordered the behead- 
ing of the victims of the French revolution, yet both were 
the virtual executioners ; so the flesh-EATER is the real slaugh- 
terer, because he gives the order. The butcher is to the 
slaughtered what the torch-carrier was to the martyrdom of 
John Rogers, or the hired servants employed to ply the guil- 
lotine are to the execution. All these are only the hired 
agents, whereas the responsibility falls mainly on those who 
give the order, not who execute it under authority. The 
butcher kills mainly by proxy. The consumer is the virtual 
butcher. On him the chief responsibility rests ; because he 
both requires the slaughter itself, and directs its kind, time, 
quantity, manner — every thing. Unless he demanded, the 
poor beast would not bleed. He is the " Mary" and the 
" Robespierre" of the slaughter-house ; because every pound 
of flesh he eats increases the demand, and thus becomes a 
virtual death-warrant issued against helpless brutes. 

Not that the butcher is wholly absolved. He is on a foot- 
ing with the vender of intoxicating drinks — is a voluntary 
doer of wrong. As when two participate in murder, the 
guilt is doubled, not divided, so the guilt of the consumer does 
not lessen the sin of the butcher. Both violate nature's 

laws, and must abide their penalties ; — the latter in the de- 



terioration of his finer moral sensibilities, and the former in the 
injury a flesh diet necessarily induces ^^ ""^ Butchers may be 
obliging, friendly, talented, and much more that is good, yet 
their daily occupation compels them to become practically in- 
human.* We thus censure their occupation with reluctance, 
yet truth is " no respecter of persons," nor should its expo- 
nents temporize. 

To kill animals, also violates Conscientiousness. The right 
to life is the highest of all rights, and inviolable ; yet is tram- 
pled under foot by slaughter. What right has man to snatch, 
even from brutes, a prerogative so inalienable ? Their deed to 
life is derived from nature, and should be taken only by its 

" But," it is objected, " brutes were made to serve man." 
Granted ; but all admit that man has no right to inflict wanton 
cruelty on brutes — then how much less to perpetrate this high- 
est possible cruelty ? 

"But man renders them more happy in feeding and hous- 
ing them during their life, than miserable in their death ;" 
says another. One would be required to feed and house me 
a long time, and render me superlatively happy into the bar- 
gain, before I should think him entitled to cut off my head ^^ ; 
and if animals suffer less in death, they also enjoy less in life, 
so that the proportion is thus preserved. 

* Hence the propriety of that law which, in some places, excludes 
them from being jurymen, on trials which involve life and death. 


t The text condemns, in the strongest manner, those unheard-of cruel- 
ties perpetrated on animals while killing them, in order to render their 
meat less bloody, and more tender. To keep the feet of calves and 
sheep tied together, in the most painfhl posture possible — tumble them 
into carts on top of one another — bang them about as if they were so 
many boxes and barrels — keep them for days together without a morsel 
of food, and then, after all this living death, to hang them up by the hind 
feet, puncture a vein in the neck, and let them hang in this excruciating 
torture, faint from loss of blood and struggling for life, yet enduring all 
the agonies of death, for six or eight hours; — meanwhile pelting them, to 
beat out the blood and render the meat tender, with might and main, 
eo that every blow extorts a horrid groan, till tardy death at length ends 



We have already seen, first, that animal food unduly stimu- 
lates animal propensity^'', and secondly, that it blunts the 
moral sentiments''', exactly the converse of what man's per- 
fection and happiness require. He is almost all propensity 
now — ^^°^ ^^^. His animality vastly preponderates over his mo- 
rality and intellectuality ; whereas, the governing law of both 
virtue and enjoyment requires the supremacy of the latter. 
Since meat constitutionally tends to enlarge and inflame pro- 
pensity", and since this is the very converse of what human 
happiness and perfection require, therefore a flesh diet is 
wrong. How despicable the disposition of the tiger, hyena, 
and shark ! Does man require to approximate himself thereto ? 
Would becoming more tiger-like render humanity more per- 
fect ? More diabolical, rather ! Is predominant propensity 
human glory and happiness ? Would you have your children 
become more turbulent, quarrelsome, fierce, revengeful, hating, 
and hateful — more like beasts of prey? Then give them 
meat. Would you not rather render them more lamb-like, 
and heavenly-dispositioned ? Then feed them on a vegetable 

We all justly complain of the evils of society. The best 
of us are bad and depraved enough, and the worst are almost 
devils incarnate. What but perverted propensity causes 
the aggravated evils under which society groans? In what 
else does depravity consist ? Or how can human wickedness 
and wo be obviated, except by subjugating and purifying pro- 
pensity by intellect and moral sentiment ? Volume two demon- 

their sufferings with their lives — and all perpetrated on helpless, unof- 
fending brutes — is a little worse than anything else except human mur- 
der ; yet, is but the legitimate fruits of flesh-eating. Hear the piteous 
wail of these wretched animals, on their passage from the farmyai'd to 
the slaughter-house; see their upturned eyes rolling in agony; witness 
the desperate struggles, and hear the terrible bellowings of the frantic 
bullock who apprehends his fate, as he is drawn up to the fatal bull-ring ; 
or even look at the awful expression of all amputated heads, as seen in 
market, or carted through the streets, and then say whether the slaugh- 
tering of animals is not a perfect outrage on every feeling of humanity— 
eveiy sentiment of right! 


STRATES that virtue and happiness consist mainly in this 
ascendency of the higher faculties over the lower, and depra- 
vity and mental suffering in predominant and perverted pro- 
pensity. These conditions of perfection and happiness on the 
one hand, and of sin and misery on the other, are fundamen- 
tal. Hence, since animal food necessarily developes and per- 
verts propensity", but blunts moral sentiment"^, therefore man 
should not sensualize his nature by eating flesh. He who 
does, deteriorates his heaven-bestowed endowments, and plants 
thorns in the pillow of enjoyment. 


A flesh diet is confessedly a powerful, though unnatural 
stimulant, and, like alcohol, excites and inflames, only prema- 
maturely to exhaust. This is its constitutional eflfect — ne- 
cessary, not accidental. It therefore hurries its participants 
through life, and out of life, in true hot-house style. All the 
mental and physical functions of vegetable eaters proceed with 
little friction, and as though well oiled, so as to run smoothly 
and wear but little, while flesh eating renders them hot and 
grating, as though the axles of life ran on gravel-stones, and 
therefore wear out rapidly. Hence, very aged people will 
generally be found to have eaten but little meat through life, 
and to have began to eat that little after their constitutions had 
become fully matured. The herb-eating elephant is reputed 
to live nearly twice as long as the flesh-eating lion — the long- 
est liver of all the carnivora. 

Animal food also irritates the stomach and fevers the blood, 
and thus lashes up the brain, and goads on all the passions to 
excessive and turbulent action. What else causes that rest- 
less, dissatisfied, longing, high-pressure, grasping, envious, ra- 
pacious selfishness of the public mind, now. everywhere so 
rife ? Our fathers ate but little flesh, and were proportionably 
contented and pacific. Flesh eating induces a faint, sunken, 
gnawing, craving, " gone" sensation at the stomach, akin to 
that of inebriates, but wholly unknown to vegetable-eaters ; 
and this stomatic irritation fevers the brain, especially the pas- 
sions , and engenders this tendency to public rapacity and 


vice just described; and this shortens the public life, on the 
principle maintained by all physiologists, that turbulent passions 
hasten death, while contentment prolongs life. Animal food, 
therefore, kindles those propensities" which shorten life, and 
blunts those moral virtues ''^ which prolong it. All this, be- 
sides the many diseases its use engenders and aggravates, and 
the cure of which it retards. 


That the forms of the teeth of all animals coincide with their 
natural dietetic character, is a universal truth. On this point 
President Hitchcock observes : " From a single bone or tooth 
of any animal, its character, food, habits, haunts, and all the 
circumstances of its existence may be correctly inferred. 
Comparative anatomists have, from a single tooth, described, 
and made drawings of the extinct creature to which it belonged, 
which have been found to agree exactly with a skeleton after- 
wards discovered." In short, that the teeth of every animal 
known and unknown, accord perfectly with its natural food, 
is universally admitted ; so that the form of the human teeth 
will determine with absolute certainty, the natural dietetic 
character of man. If constituted to eat meat, the shape of 
his teeth will approximate towards that of lions and tigers — 
his front teeth will be small and sharp ; his eye teeth, which 
correspond with the tusks, hooked and enormously large, and 
his back teeth sharp, for tearing, instead of broad, for crush- 
ing ; whereas, if his natural diet is vegetable and farinaceous, 
his back teeth will be adapted to grinding, and his eye teeth 
not longer than their neighbors. 

The following engraving of the cow furnishes a standard 
sample of herbivorous teeth, as do those of the tiger of the 
teeth of the carnivora. 

And now, reader, see with your own eyes, towards which 
of these two forms the teeth of man approximate. See for 
yourself, that his front teeth are usually larger than his eye 
teeth • and his double teeth flat, for grinding, instead of sharp, 
for tearing. Not one index of the carnivorous form is found 
in his teeth. Now this principle constitutes a final umpire, 


from which there is no philosophical appeal. The absence of 
daws has a kindred bearing. 

No. 1. Under Jaw of the Cow 

. No. 2. Jaws of the Tiger. 

" But," objects one, " man has hands with which to kill, and 
reason, to supply by cookery the place of tusks." This is 
sheer evasion, and leaves this teeth argument wholly untouched. 
It simply tries to account for the admitted omission of tusks 
in man, but is anything but a flesh-eating argument. As far 
as it has the least force, it tends to overthrow this principle, 
that the teeth determine the natural character of the food — a 



principle too fully established by nature as one of her infalli- 
ble landmarks, to be set aside by this mere may-be. 

To render assurance doubly sure, let us contrast the teeth 
of the monkey tribes, with those of man. We know that flesh 
is not their natural diet, else they would kill and eat animals ; 
yet the form of their teeth approximates toward that of the 
carnivora much more nearly than that of man's does. This 
the following engravings of the monkey, baboon, and ourang- 
outang fully evince. 


No. 3. Monkey. 

No, 4, 

No. 5. A Baboon. 

Since, therefore, the form of the human teeth recedes from 
that of the carnivora far more, even, than that of the monkey 
and ourang-outang species, which are confessedly not carnivo- 
rous, therefore, human teeth were not made to eat meat. What 
proof can more conclusively attest anything, than this estab- 
lishes the natural diet of man to be herbivorous ? 




No. 6. Jaco, a male Ourang Outang. 

To this conclusion nearly every sound physiologist has been 
impelled, by this dental, and other kindred arguments. The 
immortal Linn^us sums up this argument thus : " Fruits and 
esculent vegetables constitute his most suitable food." Cuvier, 
the highest authority on this point, sums it up thus : " The 
natural food of man, therefore, judging from his structure, 
appears to consist of fruits, roots, and other succulent parts of 
vegetables ; and his hands offer him every facility for gather- 
ing them. His short and moderately strong jaws on the one 
hand, and his cuspidati being equal in length to the remaining 
teeth, and his tubercular molares on the other, would allow 
him neither to feed on grass nor devour flesh, were these ali- 
ments not prepared by cooking." 

That distinguished physiologist. Professor Lawrence, sums 
up an elaborate argument on this point as follows : " The 
teeth of man have not the slightest resemblance to those of 
carnivorous animals, except that their enamel is confined to 
the external surface. He possesses, indeed, teeth called 
canine, but they do not exceed the level of the others, and 


are obviously unsuited for the purposes which tlie corre^ 
spending teeth execute in carnivorous animals." " Whether, 
therefore, we consider the teeth and jaws, or the immediate 
instruments of digestion, the human structure closely resem- 
bles that of the semiae or monkeys, all of which, in their 
natural state, are completely frugivorous." 

Dr. Thomas Bell, in his " Physiological Observations on the 
natural food of man, deduced from the character of his teeth," 
declares, that " every fact connected with human organiza- 
tion goes to prove, that man was originally formed a frugi- 
vorous animal." Cullen and Lamb took similar ground, and 
the Abbe Galani ascribed all crimes to animal destruction. 
Pope protests against " kitchens sprinkled with blood," and 
insists that animal food engenders crime. Plutarch tells us 
that Pythagoras ate no pork, and wondered what first " led 
man to eat carcass." 

These conclusions, however unpopular, have been extorted 
from' every rigid physiologist who has ever examined this 
subject ; and are confirmed by the length of the alimentary 
canal, which is short in the carnivora, long in the herbivora, 
and long in man — about ten times the length of his body. 

These two arguments, derived from the structure of the 
teeth and alimentary canal, of themselves completely estab- 
lish the dietetic character of man to be vegetable ; and, taken 
in connection with those converging principles already ad- 
duced and yet in reserve ^^ *° ^^ establish this anti-flesh-eating 
argument as a fundamental ordinance of nature. 


Our earth is soon to be crowded with as dense a popula- 
ion as its utmost powers of sustaining human life, combined 
<vith the most rigid economy of its necessaries, will support. 
This is undoubtedly the economy of nature — . Hence, since 
a given amount of land will sustain more human beings, by 
about ten to one, if its products are consumed directly by 
man, than when fed to animals, and they eaten as food, the 
economy of nature could never have been to submit to this 
THOUSAND PER CENT, loss, in Older to sustain vegetable-eaters j 


unless one flesh-eater enjoys as much as ten vegetable-eaters ^ 
If the economy of nature really requires and therefore favors 
a flesh diet, it would have arranged things so as to have sup- 
ported a far greater number of flesh-eaters than vegetable- 
eaters ; whereas, since it can sustain ten times as many ex- 
clusively vegetable-eaters as exclusively flesh-eaters, there- 
fore a flesh diet is in opposition to nature's general plan of 

To examine this matter in the light of facts. A given 
amount of territory will sustain probably a thousand Anglo- 
Americans by agriculture, to one Indian by the chase. Sup- 
pose the earth already fully stocked with human beings — 
shall this one Indian be allowed to engross what would sup- 
port a thousand human beings better than he is sustained ? 
If the Indian would be content with this thousandth part of his 
territory, let him remain ; but he has no right to interrupt the 
existence of nine hundred and ninety-nine human beings, still 
better capacitated to enjoy life than himself. Hence nature 
has so ordered it, that the Indian shall recede before the march 
of civilization, unless he incorporates himself with it; be- 
cause a vegetable diet can sustain so many more happy beings 
than the savage state. And his punishment is just. 

Carnivorous animals furnish another phase of our argu- 
ment. To support one lion requires thousands of acres. 
Hence, since nature abhors prodigality as much as vacuums, 
she ordains that the lion and all beasts of prey shall retire at 
the approach of man ; that is, yield their dominion to him as 
fast as he requires it, because he puts it to so much better use 
than they. The principle here stated is a law of things. 
Shall, then, one flesh-eater be allowed to keep ten vegetable- 
eaters from enjoying all the luxuries of life ? Or in this pro- 
portion as far as animal food is eaten ? Human happiness is 
nature's paramount object ^ To this, numbers are indispen- 
sable. Since, therefore, ten vegetable-eaters can enjoy more 
than one flesh-eater, they should take the precedence ; and 
flesh-eating must decrease as population increases. In fact, 
one of the former enjoys much more than one of the latter'^ 
38 39 40 42 44^ rj.^^^ ^^^^^ ^f ^^^ nccessanes of life by flesh-eat- 


ing, and this deterioration of human enjoyment, therefore, 
clash fundamentally with human numbers and happiness, 
which condemns a flesh diet as contrary to the nature of 

It may here be argued, that domestic animals, as swine, 
hens, and the like, are usually kept on offal food, which man 
does not eat, and that the offals of the farmyard and sty en- 
rich the land, and thus increase its productiveness more than 
animals decrease its products. This argument has some force 
as regards a very few domestic animals, but these few would 
not furnish a tithe of the meat now consumed, the main bulk 
of which is fattened on land or vegetables set apart expressly 
for that purpose. The manure made by animals can doubt- 
less be made quite as well by piling up straw, weeds, and 
refuse vegetation, and letting nature fit it for enriching soil — 
and even by spreading them directly upon the ground, which 
is nature's method. Manure can also be manufactured by a 
chemical process, without assistance from animals. Yet per- 
haps a few horses, cows, and hens, should be kept, and can be 
turned to excellent account. 

If it be farther objected that nature provides for the growth 
of grass, especially in untillable marshes, so that cattle can 
be kept without transgressing on the sustenance of man, the 
reply is, that a limited supply of cows may possibly be bene- 
ficial ; yet butter may be made from the grass or hay direct, 
just as good as from the cow, and four or five hundred per 
cent, more in quantity from the same amount of provender; 
which completely refutes the objection. Another far more 
plausible argument for flesh, is that drawn from the necessity 
of carbon ; which, however, we shall wave till we come to 
treat of animal heat. It is now submitted, whether man's 
physical or moral perfection requires a flesh diet ; whether, in 
fact, he is not far better — more elevated, and happy without,' 
than with it. If his nature had been adapted to it, the evi- 
dences of the consequent requisition would have been clear 
and palpable ; whereas, we find no one law of his being 
which requires it, but many by which it is interdicted. Facts, 
principles, everything, bear against its use, and nothing in its 


favor. The cravings of perverted appetite aside, say, intel- 
lectual reader, does the constitution of man require that he 
eat flesh ? If not, then we all eat it at our peril. We vio- 
late law, and must surely suffer its righteous penalties^. 

One counter consideration, however, drawn from man's 
tendency to progression, yet remains. The opening remarks 
of volume two develope this progressive tendency, from pro- 
pensity towards moral sentiment. In the earlier stages of 
humanity, propensity is indispensable to clear and subdue the 
earth ; nor is the argument of economy ^^ particularly forci- 
ble till the earth has become crowded throughout. Man may 
not yet be sufficiently advanced to render it imperiously neces- 
sary for him to abstain wholly from meat, but as such absti- 
nance fulfils his nature, his progress would be greatly accele- 
rated thereby. 


Since, then, man should not eat meat, on what shall he 
subsist ? On fruits and farinaceous food, mainly, inter- 
spersed with vegetables, nuts, eggs, and perhaps the products 
of the dairy. The unbolted flour of wheat, rye, oats, barley, 
corn, buckwheat, etc., made into bread and puddings in vari- 
ous forms, and seasoned with fruits and sweets, should consti- 
tute the main bulk of his diet ; and to it should be added 
potatoes, beans, peas, beets, carrots, turnips, parsnips, nuts, 
eggs, and perhaps a limited supply of milk, cream, butter, and 
cheese, though the utility of the last will soon come up for 
discussion. The warrant for this dietetic system is, first, its 
far greater palatableness than flesh ^'. That it is relished 
better, is evident. We always reserve the best part of our 
meals for the dessert — though we ouo-ht to eat the best first — 
and that dessert consists of fruit, pies, puddings, and cakes, 
or of oranges, nuts, and raisins, or apples, peaches, pine- 
apples, or berries, and the like, but rarely of meat — never ex- 
cept in minced pies, from five-sixths to nine-tenths of which 
are composed of flour, apples, sugar, cider, and spices ; so 
that flesh is almost excluded from our list of desserts, because 
less palatable than flour and fruit. We paraphrase good 


living by " roast beef and plumb pudding." Why place the 
plumb pudding last ? Because it is best, and therefore brought 
on AFTER the roast beef; yet it is composed of flour and fruit, 
sweetened. Similar remarks apply to all other kinds of pud- 
dings. In extra good dinners, almonds and raisins are brought 
on last, because best of all. How much better these fruit 
and flour desserts relish than meats and gravies, even after 
the appetite is glutted with the latter ? But eat as much of 
the dessert first as now of meat, and then bring on your beef 
and pork, and they would scarcely be touched. We all know 
how much keener the appetite is at the beginning of meals 
than at the close, and yet a sated appetite likes the flour and 
fruit preparations much better than the meat dishes. Hence, 
as that tastes best which is best ^^ fruit and flour constitute 
the natural diet of man. 

Vary the experiment. Set berries and milk, and also meat, 
before any children you please, and after telling them to make 
their meal wholly of the one they like best, yet partake of 
but one dish, and they will all prefer the milk and berries. 
And this is true of most adults. Many readers can testify 
that suppers composed of milk, bread, and berries, relish bet- 
ter than any other meal. In the absence of berries, apples, 
peaches, pears, and other kinds of fruit, cooked and raw, in 
their place relish about as well. Peel, cut, and sweeten 
peaches, and tell children they can eat them with bread and 
butter, or that they can have meat and butter with bread, but 
if they choose the meat must not have the peaches, and not 
one in hundreds will prefer the meat. Nor one in millions 
prefer all meat to all vegetables and fruit. So of dried 
peaches or apples, stewed with raisins, and sweetened. Many 
kinds of pears are still better. Give adults the same choice, 
and in spite of their perversion of appetite consequent on eat- 
ing so much meat, most prefer the bread and fruit. Or set 
apple dumplings and good sauce upon the table with meat, it 
being understood that boarders can have their choice, but 
must partake of only one dish, and most will relish the fruit 
and flour preparations better than the meat. Or make a stew 
pie of flour and apples, or cherries, or berries, or peaches, 


green or dried, or pears, or raisins, or any other kind of fruit, 
well sweetened, and most people prefer it to all other edibles. 
And all would eat a much greater proportion of these various 
preparations of fruit and flour than they now do, only that 
they are considered too choice and scarce to constitute a full 
meal-— and thus of nuts and raisins. But for the impression 
that these desserts are not substantial enough for laboring 
men — an idea entirely erroneous ^^^^'*° — and that they are the 
most expensive — also erroneous — that is, if appetite had its 
choice, it would eschew meat, and prefer sweetened prepara- 
tions of bread and fruit almost altogether. 

The same result is obtained by another variation of the ex- 
periment. Contrast the relish with which most people eat 
short-cake and butter, or buckwheat cakes and molasses or 
honey, with meat and gravy. Not that these cakes are re- 
commended, yet they still further illustrate our doctrine, that 
preparations of flour and fruit relish better, especially with 
children, than meat. 

The various kinds of cake eaten, still further prove our 
doctrine. We calculate on supper as the most dainty meal of 
the three, and cake is to it what desserts are to dinner, namely, 
the very climax of all. This is doubly true of the wedding 
cake. Weddings are among the most important events of life, 
and nuptial suppers are important items of weddings ; and 
hence no expense or pains are spared to render them the very 
achme of luxurious eating. And in what does this achme 
consist ? In roast beef? In any preparation of flesh ? No ; 
but in wedding cakes. If meat were generally esteemed to 
TASTE the best, the married pair would send out cuts of meat, 
instead of cake, which is never done. These tests of what 
the public relish best are infallible, though so common as to 
have escaped general observation. What supper can relish 
better than bread, butter, and honey, except it be short-cake 
or buckwheat cakes in place of bread ? How insignificant 
meat in comparison ! 

Finally, after we have eaten our buckwheat and molasses 
breakfast, our fruit and flour or meat dinner and dessert, and 
our short-cake-and-butter supper, " topped off*" with preserves 


and cake> we stroll out in the evening with some loved one, 
and wishing to heighten our friendship by partaking together 
the very daintiest morsel known to the palate, we step into a 
confectionary — the sole object of which being to gratify the 
palate, it of course proffers the most dainty of luxuries — and 
call for what ? Meat in any form ? No, but ice creams, etc. ; 
if in their season, strawberries and cream, or other berries 
in their respective seasons, because they furnish the highest 
gustatory enjoyment known to man — not to a few, for then 
they would not be kept, but to all, because preparations of 
meat are rarely kept by confectionaries proper, and when kept, 
are designed for food, not as a relish merely. Who loves 
roast beef better than rich Vergaluce pears, golden apricots, 
Morris White peaches, and other delicious fruits 1 If meat 
tasted best to the many, it would be the " crack-up dish ;" 
but ice-creams, berries-and-cream, jellies, preserves, cakes, 
cus^^ards, macaronis, floating-islands, blanck- mange, candies 
in \ arious forms, oranges, lemonade, and the like — all prepa- 
rations of flour, sugar, eggs, nuts, and fruit — make up what all 
regard as the real dainties of the palate, to the entire exclu- 
sion of flesh preparations. 

Our proof is thus conclusive, that farinaceous preparations 
are more palatable than flesh ; yet, as many will believe no- 
thing not found in the Bible, and most regard it as paramount 
authority, it also sustains our doctrine : " Butter and honey 
shall he eat," because these were the daintiest luxuries that 
could be named, and his prophetic feeding on such dainties 
indicated his super-royal rank. " What is sweeter than 
honey ?" says Samson. Many kindred allusions show that 
farinaceous food was esteemed far more delicious than meat 
in Scripture times, and that grapes held a similar rank. 
Honey is frequently mentioned in Scripture as the most deli, 
cious species of edibles, and this the tastes of the moderns also 

A chapter in the Author's dietetic experience. Not that he 
sets up his own taste as a standard for others, but that others 
may be induced to make like experiments. With the first ap- 
pearance of strawberries annually, he picks or buys, mashes, 


sweetens, and adds water or milk, and breaks in brown bread. 
This dish constitutes his only diet for breakfast and supper, 
and often for dinner, when he eats three diurnal meals. 
When strawberries disappear, raspberries — he prefers the 
black, which he cultivates — supply their place, till they give 
way to currants, whortleberries and blackberries. Give me 
this diet, and you are quite welcome to all the flesh-pots of 
modern cookery. I envy not a prince his dainties, but fancy 
that my living is far more delicious than his. 

These gone, pears and peaches take their place. I sit 
down to breakfasts and suppers consisting of peaches or pears, 
sometimes cut, mashed, watered and sweetened, with bread, 
but oftener to bread and peaches or pears alone. Let the 
bread and fruit be first-rate, and I have no desire to taste 
meat, be it of the choicest varieties. I often vary the dish by 
adding cream or milk in small quantities, just sufficient to 
moisten the whole. This diet serves me till November, and 
always I regret its departure, but intend to prolong it by rais- 
ing WINTER pears. I sometimes vary the dish by stewing or 
boiling the pears in water, and add molasses, eaten with bread. 
Baked apples and bread, sometimes eaten alone and sometimes 
cut into milk, furnish another change ; and still another con- 
sists in a pudding made of potatoe starch, milk, and eggs, eaten 
with cream and sugar, jelly or fruit. Stewed cherries furnish 
another variety, and so do dried fruits stewed, to which add 
raisins, and you make a delicious relish. Prunes stewed in 
considerable v/ater, with bread, constitute another variation. 
And if flesh eaters relish their steaks, sirloins, chops, fowls, 
hams, or even pigeons, woodcock, canvass-back ducks, salmon, 
or their turtle-soup, etc., better than I do these dishes, I am 
nevertheless quite contented with my own fare. Understand 
that I LIVE on these delicious dishes, instead of eating them 
as relishes merely ; thus making entire meals of nothing but 
desserts ; eaten not after the appetite has been sated as well 
as blunted ^^ with meats, but with all the keenness of fresh 

Thus much for breakfast and supper. For dinner — which, 
however, in consequence of often postponing my breakfast till 

THE author's diet. 93 

nine or ten o'clock, I frequently omit — I take often the same 
as for breakfast and supper ; or sometimes eat peas, beans, 
eggs broken into water and boiled but little, or butter-milk 
or sour milk sweetened, or the apple or cherry of pot-pies and 
dumplings eaten with bread, or mealy potatoes, or rice with 
molasses, milk, or fruit, or custard and bread, or bread and 
apples, etc., etc. Greens, squashes, melons, onions, beets, 
turnips, pumpkins, especially pumpkin pies, I relish without 
meat ; but eschew cucumbers, raddishes, green corn, and all 
fresh-cooked flour victuals, such as short-cakes, the crust of 
dumplings and pot-pies, etc. I once loved cucumbers and 
green corn, but found they injured me, and discontinued them 
years ago, and have now lost all relish for them. Similar 
abstinence will conquer any and all vitiated cravings. Rad- 
dishes may do well enough when boiled, and cucumbers and 
corn when ripe, or fried, yet others are quite welcome to the 
PAINS consequent on eating them while crude and uncooked. 

My winter and spring diet consists mainly of bread and 
apples, the latter generally uncooked, but sometimes stewed 
or baked. Sweet apples are preferable, because they con- 
tain much more substance than sour. Corn cracked and 
hulled, commonly called homminy, is another favorite dish, 
and so are Indian and oat-meal gruels, and also oat-meal, In- 
dian, rye and wheat mush, the flour for the last two unbolted. 
I eat honey freely in winter. Nor are split-peas or white 
beans made into soup for dinner one day, and the balance 
baked the next, such poor fare as to be allowed to fall into 
disuse. But of these hereafter. Give me my farinaceous 
diet for gustatory pleasure merely, as well as health, and you 
may have the meat. Nor would I give my diet in exchange 
for that of kings and queens — reference being had to its de- 
liciousness merely. 

If objection be raised to this diet on the score of expense, 
it is claimed that it is certainly cheaper than flesh. All kinds 
of grain are cheap compared with meat, and any one can 
raise fruit enough for family consumption, on a small piece of 
ground, or buy it with far less money than the same amount 
of nourishment costs in the form of meat. Apples and flour 



are the cheapest kinds of food eaten, and would be much cheaper 
if less grain were fed to cattle, and pastures converted into or- 
chards. But expense is nothing where health is concerned^. 
That diet is cheapest in the end, be its first cost what it may, 
which best sustains mind and body. But this matter of ex- 
pense is foreign to our present inquiry, which appertains to 

the PALATABLENESS of food. 

Having shown that that diet is best which tastes best, and 
that preparations of bread, sweets, and fruits are more delicious 
than meats ; therefore they are best for man, and his natural 


Our gustatory argument in favor of a farinaceous diet de- 
rives additional force from the fact, that meat blunts the taste, 
especially if highly peppered and spiced. Of this Caspar 
Hauser furnished a striking example ; and all will confirm it 
who will try the two, say a year each, or long enough for the 
taste to become regulated. My own experience accords with 
this principle; and I submit to all who have changed their 
diet from a mixed to one exclusively vegetable, whether the 
mere pleasure of eating has not been doubled in consequence. 
My full conviction is that mankind, by following the farina- 
ceous system, eating temperately, and adopting the right mode 
of cookery, might double their gustatory pleasures several 
times over. Appetite thus palsied can have little relish for 
anything. Hence, since a flesh diet blunts that keen natural 
relish on which all table enjoyments depend, besides being less 
palatable ■^^ why curtail those enjoyments by eating meat? 
Still, all who choose meat, have a perfect right to their choice. 
Mark how all collateral aspects of our subject favor a farina- 
ceous diet, but bear against flesh. 


We have seen that some kinds of food develope some mental 
and physical elements, and other kinds other elements ^ ; and 
also that animal food kindles propensity ^^ And since pro- 
pensity has its natural diet, of course moral sentiment has its, 


and intellect its, on that " whole-or-nothing" principle already 
presented'^. Then what kinds of diet are especially adapted 
to promote moral sentiment and intellect ? A fruit and fari- 
NACEOUS. Our proof is the converse of that already presented 
touching animal food ; namely, that all farinaceous animals 
are docile and kindly disposed, as the sheep, cow, horse, and 
the like. Those human masses who live on vegetables, as the 
Hindoo, Chinese, and Japanese, not only have less Destruc- 
tiveness^^ but manifest more religious zeal than flesh-eating 
communities. To say that they have a thousand per cent, 
more religious feeling than we have, is quite within bounds. 
True, it is poor in kind, but we speak of quantity. It only 
requires guiding, there is abundance of it. Behold their sacri- 
fices and self-tortures, to please their idols ! Their religion is 
their all. They are moreover honest. Their silks, teas, etc., 
are as recommended. Not so with flesh eaters. We have a 
mongrel religion, which we twist into all sorts of phantasies as 
propensity may dictate. Our religion bends to our other fac- 
ulties ; their other faculties bend to their religion. Ours is on 
the surface — -a Sunday coat which we seldom wear — theirs is 
their under garment. Much of ours is shallow pretension, 
based in policy and sheer selfishness ; theirs their heart's core. 
Nor can a flesh-bating nation be named, who are not more 
animal than moral, or pious. The Indian is still less religious 
than we are, and eats more flesh. And this general fact holds 
good everywhere, and in all ages. 

Similar results are derived from the organs called into 
action in procuring farinaceous food. While animal food 
cannot be procured without a violent exercise of propensity in 
its worst forms ^^, nor without also violating the moral senti- 
ments ''^ to procure farinaceous food requires the exercise of 
intellect and moral sentiments. Thus, Agriculture is a true 
science, and requires a great amount of knowledge and intel- 
lect for its successful prosecution, and is calculated to develope 
that intellect. The very nature of things, therefore, requires 
that fruits and grains should feed those faculties required in 
procuring them, just as to procure animal food requires pro- 
pensity with little morality, which accordingly feeds propen- 


sity ^^ but blunts moral sentiment ''^ Unless this is thus, na- 
ture is not true to herself; for one of her ordinances is that 
all food shall feed those faculties in particular, which are most 
called into action in its pursuit ^. 

Again, predominant propensity cannot consist with predom- 
inant moral sentiments, and therefore the latter is incompati- 
ble with a mixed diet. With what, then, does it consist, if 
not with a farinaceous diet ? 

In conclusion, readers, which one of all our arguments is 
not amply sufficient, in and of itself, to prove that the natural 
dietetic character of man is farinaceous, and not carnivorous ? 
Scrutinize each separately, and then scan them all collectively 
with rigid intellectual optics, and then say whether, taken 
collectively, they do not completely interdict meat, and prove a 
grain, esculent, and fruit diet to be the only one provided and 
allowed by nature, and of course the one most promotive of 
human and personal happiness and perfection. Is not our ar- 
gument both irrefutable and a satisfactory exponent of man's 
natural dietetic character ? Do not those who eat meat vio- 
late their natures, and therefore eat it at their peril ? Do 
not those who live on fruits and vegetables fulfil nature's die- 
tetic ordinance, and thus reap her reward ? Are they not only 
both safe, but infinite gainers by eschewing meat and living 
luxuriously on the bounties and fruits of the earth ? " He 
that is wise, is wise for himself, but he that scorneth, he alone 
must bear it." 


The only shadow of doubt now remaining as to the fitness 
of an exclusively farinaceous diet for human sustenance, de- 
pends on the answer to this question : Do vegetables contain 
all the elements which enter into, and are required by, the 
vital process ? If so, our argument is complete. And who 
can answer this question equally with the great Liebig ? His 
" Animal Chemistry," one of the most profoundly philosophical 
works on this new subject of scientific inquiry, (if on any 
other,) ever written, thus answers this question : 


" Two substances require especial consideration as the chief ingre- 
dients of the blood ; one of these separates immediately from the blood 
when withdrawn from the circulation. It is well known that in this case 
blood coagulates, and separates into a yellowish liquid, the serum of the 
blood, and a gelatinous mass, which adheres to a rod or stick in soft, elas- 
tic fibres, when coagulating blood is briskly stirred. This is the fibrine 
of the blood, which is identical in all its properties with muscular fibre, 
when the latter is purified from all foi-eign matters. 

" The second principal ingredient of the blood is contained in the se- 
rum, and gives to this liquid all the properties of the white of eggs, with 
which it is identical. When heated, it coagulates into a white elastic 
mass, and the coagulating substance is called albumen. 

" Fibrine and albumen, the chief ingredients of blood, contain, in all, 
seven chemical elements, among which nitrogen, phosphorus, and sulphur 
are found. They contain also the earth of bones. The seram retains in 
solution sea salt and other salts of potash and soda, in which the acids 
are carbonic, phosphoric, and sulphuric acids. The globules of the blood 
contain fibrine and albumen, along with a red coloring matter, in which 
iron is a constant element. Beside these, the Ijlood contains certain fatty 
bodies in small quantity, which difier froHi ordinaiy fats in several of their 
properties. • 

" Chemical analysis has led to the remarkable result, that fibrine and 
albumen contain the same organic elements united in the same propor- 
tion, so that two analyses, the one of fibrine and the other of albumen, 
do not differ more than two analyses of fibnne or two of albumen re- 
spectively do, in the composition of 100 parts. 

" Both albumen and fibrine, in the process of nutrition, are capable of 
being converted into muscular fibre, and muscular fibre is capable of be- 
ing reconverted into blood. These facts have long been established by 
physiologists, and chemistry has merely proved that these metamorphoses 
can be accomplished under the influence of a certain force, without the 
aid of a third substance, or of its elements, and without the addition of 
any foreign element, or the separation of any element previously present 
in these substances. 

" The nutritive process in tiie carnivora is seen in its simplest form. 
This class of animals lives on the blood and flesh of the graminivora ; but 
this blood and flesh is, in all its properties, identical with their own. 
Neither chemical nor physiological differences can be discovered. 

" In a chemical sense, therefore, it may be said that a caniivoi'ons ani- 
mal, in supporting the vital process, consumes itself. That which serves 
for its nutrition is identical with those parts of its organization which are 
to be renewed. 

" Chemical researches have shown, that all such parts of vegetables as 
can afford nutriment to animals contain certain constituents which are 
rich in nitrogen ; and the most ordinary experience proves that animals 
require for their support and nutrition less of these parts of plants in pro- 
portion as they abound in the nitrogenized constituents. Animals cannot 
be fed on matters destitute of these nitrogenized constituents. 

" These important products of vegetation are especially abundant in 
the seeda of the different kinds of grain, and of peas, beans, and lentils; 
in the roots and the juices of what are commonly called vegetables. 
They exist, however, iu all plants, without exception, and in every part 
of plants in larger or smaller quantity. 

" When the newly expressed juices of vegetables are allowed to stand, 
a separation takes place in a few minutes. A gelatinous precipitate, 


commonly of a green tinge, is deposited, and this, when acted on by 
liquids which remove the coloring matter, leaves a grayish white 
substance, well known to druggists as the deposit from vegetable juices. 
This is one of the nitrogenized compounds which serves for the nutrition 
of animals, and has been named vegetable fibrine. The juice of grapes is 
especially rich in this constituent, but it is most abundant in the seeds of 
wlaeat, and of the cerealia. It may be obtained from wheat flour by a 
mechanical operation, and in a state of tolerable purity ; it is then called 
GLUTEN, but the glutinous property belongs, not to vegetable fibrine, but 
to a foreign substance, present in small quantity, which is not found in 
the other cerealia. 

" The second nitrogenized compound remEiins dissolved in the juice 
after the separation of the fibrine. It does not separate from the juice at 
the ordinary temperature, but is instantly coagulated when the liquid 
containing it is heated to the boiling point. 

" When the clarified juice of nutritious vegetables, such as cauliflower, 
asparagus, mangel wurzel, or turnips, is made to boil, a coagulum is formed, 
which it is absolutely impossible to distinguish from the substance which 
separates as coagulum, whem the sei-um of blood or the white of an egg, 
diluted witli water, are heated to the boiling point. This is vegetable 
ALBUME.v. It is found in the greatest abundance in certain seeds, in nuts, 
almonds, and others, in which the starch of the graminese is replaced by 

" The third niti-ogenized constituent of the vegetable food of animals is 
VEGETABLii CASEiNE. Itis chiefly found in the seeds of peas, beans, lentils, 
and similar leguminous seeds. Like vegetable albumen, it is soluble in 
water, but differs from it in this, that its solution is not coagulated by heat. 
When the solution is heated or evaporated, a skin forms on its surface, 
and the addition of an acid causes a coagulum, just as in animal milk. 

" These three nitrogenized compounds, vegetable fibrine, albumen, aiid 
caseine, are the time nitrogenized constituents of the food of graminivorous 
animals ; all other nitrogenized compounds, occuring in plants, are either 
rejected by animals, as in the case of the characterestic principle of 
poisonous and medicinal plants, or else they occur in the food in such very- 
small proportion, that they cannot possibly contribute to the increase of 
mass in the animal body." 

" How beautifully and admirably simple, with the aid of these disco- 
veries, appears the process of nutrition in animals, the formation of their 
organs, in which vitality chiefly resides ! Those vegetable principles, 
which in animals are used to form blood, contain the chief constituents 
of blood, fibrine and albumen, ready formed, as far as regards their com- 
position. All plants, besides, contain a certain quantity of iron, which 
re-appears in the coloring matter of the blood. Vegetable fibrine and 
animal fibrine, vegetable albumen and animal albumen, hardly differ 
even in form ; if these principles be wanting in the food, the nuti'ition of 
the animal is arrested ; and when they are present, the graminivorous 
animal obtains in its food the very same principles on the presence of 
which the nutrition of the caruivora entirely depends. 

" Vegetables produce in their organism the blood of all animals, for 
the carnivora, in consuming the blood and flesh of the graminivora, con- 
sume, strictly speaking, only the vegetable principles which have served 
for the nutrition of the latter. Vegetable fibrine and albumen take the 
same form in the stomach of the graminivorous animal as animal fibrine 
and albumen do in that of the cai-nivorous animal." — Liebig's Animal 


Liebig's concluding paragraph answers our question affirm- 
atively, and in the most conclusive manner, by showing that 
even the carnivora are nourished solely by those chemical ele- 
ments derived from the vegetable food of their prey ! So that 
even the carnivora live, after all, on vegetable aliments. 
Rigid sci^tific analysis, therefore, sustains our position, that 
animal food is unnecessary to human sustenance. And the 
fact, that many have lived half a century or more without 
tasting of animal food, and enjoyed all their powers and fac- 
ulties '", bears a kindred testimony ; for if animal food furnished 
a NECESSARY element of diet which could be obtained nowhere 
else, all those who wholly abstained from it would soon feel its 
want, become enfeebled, pine away, and die ; whereas many 
of them become every way improved in mind and body by 
such abstinence ; and this shows, that the human system 
CAN obtain from vegetables all it requires to perfect all its 



Having thus found nature's great dietetic landmarks in a 
farinaceous diet, we proceed to fill up this outline by examin- 
ing more in detail the nutritive properties of the different edibles 
found in the vegetable kingdom ^\ Of these, bread is beyond 
question the most important — is the veritable "staff of 
life" — and therefore deserves primary consideration ; and the 
more so, since the materials of which it is made are used in 
composition with almost all other kinds of food. 

Bread is made chiefly of grain, of one kind or another, 
crushed or ground into flour, which is usually bolted. Thus 
far, these grains have constituted the great staple of human 
diet. From time immemorial, and in all nations, except the 
most degraded savages, they have been the chief reliance of 
the human family as food, and will undoubtedly still continue 


to be while the race exists. Other forms of food may be gen- 
erally introduced, as potatoes have lately been, yet never to 
take the place of " flour victuals," but only to accompany 
them. With many kinds of food we do not eat meat, but we 
eat bread with all kinds, and more bread usually than any- 
thing else. We make flour, both fine and coarse, Tjolted and 
unbolted, into various forms of food, both with shortening and 
without, with and without sweetening, with various kinds, single 
and mixed, as all wheat, all rye, all Indian, all barley, all oat- 
meal, all rice, and part wheat and part Indian, or " rye-and-In- 
dian," or " wheat-and-rye." We also boil each of these kinds 
of flour into puddings, the main ingredients and dietetic uses of 
which are the same as bread, or sweeten, shorten, and fry in 
fat, making crullers, doughnuts and nut-cakes ; or shorten and 
add fruit, as in the manufacture of apple-fritters, and also of 
pies of all kinds, pot and meat-pies included ; or thickened 
into soups of all kinds, or made into " dressings ;" and thus we 
work them into nearly all the food we eat. Even meat eaters 
live mainly upon them, and so do many species of animals. 
Undoubtedly, after ages will discover and perfect many other 
kinds of grain now growing wild in our swamps, or mountains, 
or forests, as a recent one has Indian corn. But cereal grains 
will always be a staple article of food. 

These grains are simply seeds, and all seeds contain nour- 
ishment, in order to feed the sprout till it can put forth its 
roots and draw sustenance from the earth. And it is this 
nutritious principle, stored up for the purpose of nourishing 
the plant in its embryo, which sustains human and animal life. 
And the probable reason why the flour of grain forms the best 
species of nourishment for man is, that it is so highly organ- 
ized, and so condensed. It can also be ground fine, and by 
proper management, preserved for years. 

Chemically analyzed, wheat, the best of the entire cereal 
family, contains about eight-tenths of nutritious suDstances ; 
rye, barley, and oats, about the same ; rice nine-tenths, and 
Indian corn about seven-tenths; while meat contains only 
about five and a half tenths. 

Bread being thus promotive of life, its preparation, so that 


it shall nourish us in the best possible manner, becomes a mat- 
ter of the utmost importance. 

After the grain is duly cleansed — and none of us know how 
much besides wheat is ground up with it — it is first ground. 
And here two egregious errors are committed. The weight 
of the stone and its rapidity of motion, both crush it so fine 
and heat it so hot, as essentially to impair its nutritive proper- 
ties. Hence, flour is often said to be "dead;" much of its 
"life," or nutrition having been destroyed. Indian meal suf- 
fers much from being similarly " killed," as is evinced by its 
far greater sweetness when coarse ground, than when ground 
extra fine — warrant enough that excessive grinding impairs 
the nutritive properties ^^ 


Grain is ground thus fine that it may be bolted the more 
closely, so as to become the whiter. But shall looks be allowed 
to impair quality ? The bran, or at least a good portion of it, 
left in, greatly improves its nutritive capability. Else nature 
would have allowed us to separate it from the flour without 
grinding the latter to death. Its presence also greatly promotes 
that intestinal action so essential to digestion. Its absence facil- 
itates that torpor of the digestive organs and consequent con- 
stipation, which paves the way for those stomatic complaints 
to be discussed hereafter. Give fine flour to hens, cattle, 
horses, or any other animals, and it will soon disorder them 
effectually, and breed disease. And unless man were stronger 
constitutioned than any other animal, it would break down and 
bury all who eat it. Indeed, it is now effectually consuming 
its consumers by hundreds of thousands ; not suddenly, but 
gradually, by impairing digestion and thus inducing other dis- 
eases to which the death is ascribed. All who eat coarse and 
unbolted flour bread, will thereby obviate half their sickness. 
It keeps the intestinal canal open, and this carries off* those 
causes of disease which fine flour bread, by inducing consti- 
pation, retains in the system to engender sickness. Nothing 
but dire necessity ever induces me to live habitually on fine 

flour bread. It immediately occasions intestinal sluggishness 


and stomatic disorder, and, in consequence, greatly enhances 
dyspeptic troubles. I even pen this paragraph after having 
just recovered from the worst dyspeptic attack I have experi- 
enced for years, brought on by eating fine flour bread and a 
very little meat, between which, for me, there is little if any 
choice. But give me my coarse brown bread and good fruit, 
with opportunities for exercise, and such troubles, as in this 
instance, soon disappear. 

Brown bread also tastes better than superfine, as all who 
will make trial can perceive — another conclusive proof of its 
superiority ^^ Our New England ancestry ate coarse bread 
made of rye and Indian, and lived longer, besides enjoying 
far better health, than their fine-flour-fed descendants have 
the least prospect of living ; and the Scotch oat-cake and por- 
rage eaters rarely know how dyspepsia feels till they exchange 
them for "killed" flour bread. Dyspeptics also find coarse 
bread indispensable ; and what is thus indispensable to weak 
stomachs would of course go far towards keeping strong ones 
from breaking. Even sailors cannot live on fine flour bread ; 
much more our sedentary classes. 

Besides, the nutriment of fine flour bread is too highly con- 
densed. Sugar is highly nutritious, yet, eaten alone, it soon 
disorders digestion, because there is too much of it in too 
small a compass. A due amount of bulk is as essential to 
perfect digestion as the nutrition itself. The bran thus helps 
to " fill up," and besides restraining over-eating, gently irri- 
tates the intestinal coating, and provokes action. Still, you 
fine flour lovers are quite welcome to your insipid and half 
" killed" white bread ; yet no earthly motive but absolute 
starvation would induce me to partake with you more than a 
few meals at a time. 


To raise the bread is the next process in its preparation. 
This consists in causing fermentation, by which a gas is gen- 
erated which insinuates itself among the doughy mass, and 
thus raises it, or renders it porous. 

This portion of the bread-making process is also greatly 


overdone. Fermentation is the first stage of decay. It cre- 
ates the gas by souring the dough ; nor is it possible to raise 
it without proportionally souring it, because, from the souring 
alone is this raising gas derived, though habit prevents our 
perceiving it. But let it stand a little too long, and it tastes 
very sour. Unleavened bread will also keep twice or thrice 
as long as that which is raised. Of this, ship bread, Bos- 
ton crackers, and Graham wafers, are examples. This lea- 
vening is incipient decomposition, and from the gas evolved 
during the baking, alcohol in large quantities can be manu- 
factured ; and alcohol is the child of decomposition, or rotten- 
ness. How is yeast obtained ? By excessive fermentation ; 
and the world over, the fermenting process is the rotting pro- 
cess. This incipient decomposition is introduced by the yeast 
into the dough, and of course impairs its virtue. Hence, ex- 
cessive fermentation is highly injurious. 

And herein consists my unqualified opposition to " bakers' 
bread." It is fermented almost to death in order to make the 
greatest possible loaf out of the least flour. People love to 
be gulled. If two loaves, both containing the same quantity 
and quality of flour, but the one puffed up by excessive fermen- 
tation, while the other was not thus injured, though abundantly 
light for utility, were proffered for selection, nearly all would 
prefer the hollow bulk, though they knew it to be inferior to 
the smaller, though better loaf. This tempts bakers to con- 
trive all sorts of devices to swell their loaves ; and, to neutral- 
ize the souring, they put in ammonia and other things which 
leave the bread vitiated by deleterious compounds. I would 
eat bakers' bread rather than actually starve, yet sparingly, 
and only one or two meals in succession. Nothing but dire 
necessity could induce me to live habitually upon it. Yet 
others have the same right to eat it which I take in eschew- 
ing it. 

Bread raised by sour milk and saleratus is less, if at all 
objectionable, because the gas which raises it is created, not 
by decomposition, but by the chemical combination of the 
acid of the sour milk with the alkalie of the saleratus, and 
raised too quickly to allow the dough to sour. I recommend 


its frequent, if not general substitution lor bread raised with 
turnpike, yeast, and the like. " Milk emptyings" bread, be- 
sides being whiter and sweeter than that made with other 
emptyings, is more wholesome. It becomes light before it 
sours, and is universally used throughout the West. 

Let bread be made, then, of coarser flour, unbolted, or bolted 
but little ; be raised with saleratus or milk emptyings, and not 
unduly bloated up ; be thoroughly baked — and its crust is its 
best portion — and never eaten warm ; for then mastication 
rolls it up into firm masses which the gastric juice penetrates 
with difficulty, and be eaten more abundantly than any other 
article of diet. 


The Eastern nations live almost wholly on rice, and the 
Scotch on oatmeal. The former contains a greater proportion 
of nourishment than any other article of diet, and the virtue 
of the latter is attested by the powerful frames and strong 
constitutions of the Highland Picts. Fortunately, oatmeal is 
coming into general use amongst us, and I hail and would 
promote its introduction. As a diet for children, when eaten 
with milk, it probably has no superior, if equal. 

The dietetic virtue of rye is not generally appreciated. 
Unbolted rye flour, made into hasty-pudding, is one of the most 
easily digested things which dyspeptics can eat. It is also 
exceedingly palatable. Rye bread is nutritious, opening, and, 
but for its color, would undoubtedly rival wheat. Try it as a 

Barley bread was once a staple article of diet. May it 
again become a general favorite. The distillery should no 
longer be allowed to consume so wholesome, palatable, and 
excellent an article of food. 


Next come up for canvass. Cakes and pies are rarely 
eaten as food, but usually as a relish merely. They are gen- 
erally deemed unwholesome, and justly so, because composed 
of flour and grease or shortening sweetened — a compound 


exceedingly difficult of digestion. Flour sweetened is not so 
bad ; but when shortened as well as sweetened, the stomach 
dissolves it with extreme difficulty. Melted butter is extremely 
hard of digestion, and hence the unsuitableness of cake for 
children. Spices still further aggravate the evil. 

Bakers' cake is still more injurious. Great quantities of 
ammonia — a poison of which hartshorn is made — are put in 
to render it light ; and to all this is added colored coatings, 
composed of poisonous ingredients. Domestic cake is bad 
enough, but bakers' is utterly unfit even for the adult stomach, 
much more for the juvenile. 

If any doubt remain of the unwholesomeness even of do- 
mestic cake, the following recipes must effectually obviate it : 

Pound Cake. — "A pound each of butter, sugar, and flour, 
and ten eggs." As ten eggs weigh a pound, of course half 
the cake is butter and eggs, and only one-quarter flour, and 
that completely saturated with sweet, grease, and eggs, baked 
an HOUR. Now we know that eggs cook abundantly in five 
minutes, and become extremely tough and hard in ten ; and 
since hard-cooked eggs are universally conceded to be diffi- 
cult of digestion, what must they be after being baked an hour, 
and in fat and flour ? 

Sponge cake consists of only one-fifth flour, two-fifths eggs, 
baked to a crisp, and the balance sugar. Shrewsbury cake 
contains one-third flour, above one-third butter and eggs, and 
the balance brandy, sugar, and liutmeg — a most deleterious 
compound. Jumbles are composed of about one-third flour, one- 
quarter sugar, and above one-third of eggs, milk, and butter. 
Soft cakes contain nearly half melted butter. Butter and 
eggs make up above half of a cake called wonders ; and 
wondrous unhealthy it must be. Above half of even plain 
gingerbread consists of cream, butter, molasses, and ginger. 
Of composition cake, only one-fourth is flour, and nearly three- 
fourths eggs, butter, cream, and brandy ; a full quarter being 
melted cream and butter. In view of the four facts, first, that 
melted butter, and of course fat and cream are among the most 
indigestible things eaten ; secondly, that about half of most 
of our cakes are composed of these articles ; thirdly, that 


about one-quarter consists of eggs baked nearly or quite an 
hour ; and fourthly, that grease mixed with flour is digested 
with extreme difficulty, it is submitted whether cakes are not, 
of necessity, most unwholesome. Add to all this, that nearly 
a fifth of the frosting of bakers' cake is composed of oxides 
of lead, to impart color ; who that eats cake but must impair 
the stomach, engender disease, and hasten death ? Our an- 
cestors ate little cake, yet their descendants think they cannot 
live without it; and a mistaken kindness feeds it to children 
as freely as if it were the staff of life, and aggravates the 
evil by feeding it between meals — of which anon . 

Pies may be rendered wholesome or unwholesome, at the 
option of the maker. The union, however intimate, of bread 
and fruit, forms the best diet in the world. Keep out short- 
ening and spices, and you may live wholly on pies. And 
excellent crust can be made of flour, potatoes, and milk, or 
water, without shortening. But I recommend such pies and 
all pies to be eaten, not after a full meal, but as a part of it — 
and as the first part rather than the last ; because we eat 
them mainly as a relish, and all know how much keener the 
appetite is at the beginning than close of the meal. And if 
cakes must be eaten, let them be eaten also when the Chinese 
eat their relishes — first, not last ; and at breakfast instead of 

Though we have spoken against eggs in cake, because 
baked so exceedingly hard, and commingled with melted 
grease ; yet eggs, properly cooked, are undoubtedly wholesome 
and nutritious, as they certainly are exceedingly palatable. 
They contain great quantities of carbon, and also gluten, fibrin, 
and the very compounds required by animal economy. They 
are especially good for children. Yet very much depends on 
the mode of cooking them. Fried in grease, as " ham and 
eggs," or " pork and eggs," they are hard of digestion, as well 
on account of being generally over-done, as saturated with 
melted grease. Poached eggs are liable to a similar objec 
tion. But sofl-boiled eggs, eaten with bread or other substan- 
tial food, are as useful as delicious. We recommend little 
if any butter or salt, because a little practice will render eggs 


better alone than seasoned. Butter, salt, pepper, everything 
mixed with them, takes from, or obscures the taste of the eggs ; 
yet it is this taste which makes us relish eggs as eggs. 

Spices and seasoning are thus brought up for inspection. 
Most condiments are decidedly injurious. Their very nature 
is irritating, heating, feverish. Like alcoholic liquors, they 
stimulate temporarily only to debilitate ultimately. They 
impart no inherent, protracted vigor to the system, but only 
goad, lash up, and then prostrate. Especially do they irritate, 
disease, and prostrate the stomach ; and this organ diseased, 
the entire system suffers similarly. 

But, worst of all, they blunt the taste and disorder the ap- 
petite. They necessarily, and always, benumb the nerves 
they touch, and of course deaden the power of taste, as well 
as deteriorate natural relish. They induce us to eat too much- 
because they temporarily stimulate, and because natural rel- 
ish being blunted, we eat and keep eating, vainly attempting 
to make up in the quantity of food that gustatory pleasure lost 
by this blunting of taste. They also weaken the salivary 
glands. Mustard, peppers, cloves, ginger, cinnamon, and tho 
like, I never eat ; nor would I, under penalty of deteriorated 
relish and dyspeptic consequences. 

Finally, let the principle, that whatever detracts from or 
obscures the natural taste of food, thereby impairs the luxury 
of eating, be always borne in mind and put in practice. The 
deliciousness is in the food, not the spices — in the bread, not 
butter, or gravy, or sauce, or other things else eaten with it 
as relishes. And if we cannot enjoy simple food simply pre- 
pared, we cannot enjoy it with all the " seasoning" (improperly 
so called) with which it can be cooked or eaten. Whatever 
is fit for food, nature has already seasoned for us infinitely 
better than art can season it ^^ And since condiments both 
obscure nature's rich flavors, and also blunt our powers of 
perceiving them, to say nothing of their deleterious consequen- 
ces, practical wisdom dictates that food should be eaten with as 
few spices and relishes as possible. Yet modern cookery is all 
seasoning — a total perversion of nature's dietetic simplicity. 

Confectionary is so closely allied to pastry as to deserve a, 


passing remark. Ice-creams are probably not objectionable, 
except when the stomach is over-heated. Their being frozen 
is their greatest objection. They may be eaten at, or right 
after meals, with comparative impunity, provided they are 
allowed to melt first. But candies in all their forms are very 
detrimental, because so very rich ; because colored with pois- 
onous ingredients ; because usually eaten between meals or late 
at night ; and especially because they pervert the relish, so 
that natural food tastes insipid, and rich food is sought to fill the 
vacuum they create. They are exceedingly liable to sour on 
the stomach, which they always overload, and thus stupify the 
brain, breed worms, and incite disease. Children especially 
should never be indulged in them. They also soon ruin the 
teeth. This is a sure sign that they first impair the stomach. 
But of these relations of the two to each other, hereafter. 
Confectionaries are public curses. 

57. FRUIT 

Next deserves consideration. That good fruit is one of the 
most delicious articles man can eat, all are practical witnesses. 
Honey and sugar are most delicious at first, but soon cloy, 
because their nutrition is so highly concentrated. Not so with 
good fruit. Let a person moderately hungry, sit down to a 
plate of honey, or butter, or sugar, and be loses his relish 
before he has taken a tithe of the real gustatory pleasure he 
can take in as many first-rate peaches, or pears, or apricots, 
or nectarines, or even apples or berries, as his stomach will 
bear. Than delicious fruit, what greater dainty can be 
served up to man throughout nature's ceaseless round of boun- 
lies ? For what other luxury will men pay as high a price ? 
Vergaluce pears often command one dollar per dozen. In 
France they often sell for forty cents apiece, and fifty cents for 
a peach have often been paid in Boston — more than treble the 
cost of ice-cream, than which they are certainly more deli- 
cious. Yet there are still better fruits than these. And what 
is more, all love good fruit. See how fruit-crazy all children 
are. See what enormous quantities of pears, peaches, straw- 
berries, apples, etc., are consumed in our cities. 

FRUIT. 109 

Now, since that is best which tastes, best^^ and since fruit 
relishes better than anything eaten, therefore it is the most 
wholesome. It prevents or removes constipation, and often 
acts like a charm upon both body and mind. Different con- 
stitutions require different kinds, yet ripe fruit, if of the right 
kind, is better even in sickness than medicine ; and, eaten with 
good bread, nothing is equally palatable or wholesome. This 
never cloys the appetite or clogs the stomach, but keeps the 
bowels open, head clear, passions cool, and the entire man 
healthy and happy. Just try the experiment. Sit down to a 
breakfast of first-rate fruit and Graham bread, and say if it is 
not the best breakfast you ever ate. Than peaches cut up 
and sweetened at supper, what is more delicious ? Or than 
strawberries and cream with bread ? Of choice pears this is 
still more true. Nor are berries with bread and milk so very 
inferior eating. And when none of these can be obtained, 
good apples, baked or raw, relish right well. 

If it be objected that these choice fruits last but a short time, 
the answer is, that nature provides us with a perpetual round 
of them from May to November. Apples keep the entire 
year, and pears of the very best varieties can be kept till the 
appearance of strawberries the next year. A friend of the 
author had plums — Coe's golden drop — the first of June, 
which he had kept perfectly sound all winter, and the frost 
damson keeps till November ; while the amber prim ordium 
ripens early in July. Many other kinds ripen along through 
the winter and spring. Pears and plums can be kept the year 
round as easily as apples; and summer fruits, by bottling, 
can be kept perfectly fresh a year. And by the use of 
hot-houses, fruit can be picked from the trees in winter or 

We can also preserve them or make them into jellies. Yet 
this process, besides deteriorating from their flavor, impairs 
their digestibility. Preserves are too rich. Their nutrition 
is too much concentrated. Yet the virtue of the juice can be 
extracted and then dried, so as to preserve its original flavor 
and dietetic utility. Or most kinds of fruit can be dried, and 
thus kept, though this process dries out much of its goodness 


as well as sweetness. Yet dried fruit stewed, is far better 
than none. 

Stewed apples sweetened, make an excellent relish with 
bread. Nor does the addition of butter increase its palata- 
bleness, but rather lessens it. Yet apple-sauce should be 
made every few days, and not made so rich as to keep all 
winter. Yet, after all, nothing equals simple bread and choice 
fruit, if people only knew it, both for health and luxury. 

In general, good fruit loses much of its flavor and virtue by 
being cooked. Poor fruit may be improved by being cooked 
and sweetened ; but first-rate fruit and bread ought to be 
good enough for a prince ; and is in fact the best pie, and 
cake, and dessert, in the world. 

Green fruit, however, is most pernicious. Nor do we real- 
ize how many, especially children, lose their lives directly or 
indirectly thereby. Where it does not kill immediately, it 
often deranges the stomach, breeds worms, and induces other 
diseases which, sooner or later, complete the work of death 
begun by green fruit. Adults are most culpable for eating 
fruit before it is fully ripe. Nor would children ever eat it if 
supplied freely with what is good. Parents should see to it 
that their children have good ripe fruit as much as bread. 

Most city fruits, especially peaches, are picked green, so that 
they may keep the longer. Those who would have good fruit 
must RAISE it — must pick it from their own vines and trees. 

Foreign fruits are good, but indigenous are better. Nature 
adapts the products of every clime to its dietetic requisitions ; 
and hence has made those fruits to flourish best in every clime 
which its inhabitants require. Yet imported fruits augment 
variety, and those which will keep well may be eaten freely 
with profit. Of these, oranges, lemons, pine-apples, bananas, 
and nuts, are examples. Lemonade is, in the author's opin- 
ion, as healthy as delicious. Yet he founds this opinion on 
experience rather than science. 


Are as healthy as palatable ^^ They contain starch and 
carbon in great abundance, and these are two of the princi- 


pal ingredients required in the nutritive process. Yet they 
should be commingled with our food just as nature has mixed 
them with all kinds of edibles. Sugar is extracted from the 
cane, the beet, and the maple, and even from corn-stalks ; and 
can be made out of almost anything that will serve for food. 
It should therefore be duly diluted, and then rarely cloys, but 
greatly enhances the palatableness of almost everything eaten, 
especially of " flour victuals." Sweet apples and fruit are 
much more nutritious than sour, and greatly facilitate the fat- 
tening of stock. 

Molasses is especially good; because, besides yielding a 
great amount of nourishment, it stimulates the intestinal canal, 
and thus helps to evacuate obstructions and wasted matter. 
Eaten with Indian meal made into puddings or cakes, it be- 
comes highly aperient, and thus carries off causes of disease. 
Let children be served with it at least once or twice a week, 
nor should adults eschew it. 

Those slaves, and even cattle, who eat of the cane while 
extracting its sugar, are said to thrive remarkably well ; and 
I am fully persuaded that if it also as well as its extract were 
imported, and extensively used as an article of diet, its use- 
fulness would be great indeed. 

Honey is also most delicious ; and, duly mixed with other 
things, may be eaten with profit, especially in winter. Yet 
not in summer, because it is highly charged with carbon, and 
of this less is required in summer, but much in winter. In- 
deed, sweets generally should be eaten more sparingly in 
warm weather than in cold. 

Yet, when honey and other sweets sour on the stomach, the 
latter should rarely be provoked by the former. 


Are highly nutritious, yet not wholly unobjectionable. 
Milk contains casseine, and this fibrine and albumen, in a 
highly soluble state, so that they can be easily carried to all 
portions of the system. Milk also contains nitrogen, a super- 
abundance of which, so that it can be deposited and remain, 
is essential to growth. A milk diet is therefore peculiarly 


adapted to promote the growth of children and youth, and the 
fact that nature has ordained it as the natural food of infants, 
is no mean guaranty of its utility. Its promotion of the growth 
of young swine, still further recommends it. 

Butter, made from the oily properties of milk, contains a 
great amount of carbon. Its nutrition, like that of sugar and 
honey, is highly concentrated. Butter also soon becomes 
rancid, when exposed to heat, as it always is in the stomach, 
and in this form is peculiarly obnoxious. It often causes 
cutaneous eruptions, biles, and the like ; and eaten in warm 
weather, and in those quantities in which it is generally con- 
sumed, loads the system with corruption, renders many mise- 
rable for life, and hurries thousands into untimely graves. 

Cream is better than butter, and certainly more palatable, 
and may be eaten with bread, or bread and fruit, with compar- 
ative impunity, at least in cold weather. Other stomachs may 
manage butter, but mine cannot, except in small quantities ; 
and it proves detrimental to dyspeptics generally. Spread 
thin upon bread, it may do for adults, but children should eat 
but little, and be satisfied with milk in its stead. Sweetened 
cream is far more palatable and less objectionable. 

Milk also promotes sleep, and hence is the better for supper, 
especially for the supper of children, and probably for the 
wakeful. Sour milk and butter-milk sweetened, are probably 
both nutritious and healthy — more so than sweet milk, be- 
cause milk must be curdled before it can be digested. The 
author attributes his recovery from a consumptive attack to 
the use of butter-milk, and relishes sour milk sweetened much. 
The Germans strain all their sweet milk into sour, and thus 
curdle it ; and some cannot eat milk unless it is previously 
curdled. Curdled by adding sweet cider, it becomes delicious 
and wholesome. 

Melted butter, as eaten on warm bread, or on hot, short, or 
buckwheat, or wheaten cakes, is most pernicious. I must 
be very hungry, before I eat food thus exceedingly unwhole- 
some. Meat is far less detrimental. Buckwheat cakes of 
themselves are probably harmless, yet swimming in melted 
butter and molasses, they can be borne only by few. Add 


milk or cream, with sugar, or molasses, or honey, and they 
are even more delightful to the palate than with butter, and 
doubtless as wholesome as delicious ^^ Meat fried in butter 
is very injurious. When the system is in want of carbon, 
butter may be eaten with profit, yet cream is better; but 
since carbon superabounds in almost all, so as to cause much 
disease, butter only enhances both this superabundance and its 
diseased consequences. 

Cheese does not suit some stomachs, the author's included, 
yet may not be peculiarly unwholesome. It often troubles 
children, and should be administered to them sparingly, if at 
all. Yet pot-cheese, made of sour milk, is nutritious, and 
probably harmless. 


And vegetables generally, may be eaten freely, with profit. 
Ripe beans and peas contain a great amount of nutrition, 
" stick to the ribs," make good blood, and should not be al- 
lowed to fall into disuse. Made into soups they relish well, 
and constituted a standing article of the diet of our ancestors. 
Daniel of old fared well, and looked fair, on lentils. 

Potatoes, a recent but popular article of diet, deserve all the 
practical estimation in which they are held. Though not very 
nutritious, yet on this very account they " fill up," and thus 
prevent our taking excessive nutrition in other forms. Baked, 
they are very fine, and palatable however prepared. Yet they 
should be eaten with bread, or their bulk will be too great 
for their nutrition. Potatoe-starch pudding is one of the 
most nutritious and easily digested articles of diet to be 

Onions are both palatable and wholesome. The French 
consume them freely. They are especially good in colds. 
The ourang outang, when suffering from colds, eats them 
raw in great quantities, and would eat nothing else. They 
are aperient, and their syrup, sweetened, relieves oppressed 
lungs, and restores suppressed perspiration. For incipient 
infantile colds, it is admirable. 


Beets, carrots, and turnips, are good in their places. Every 
family should feed on them often. Parsnips are probably good, 
yet rather difficult of digestion. 

Cabbages digest with difficulty, and yield but little nourish- 
ment. Only strong stomachs can master them. 

Greens in the spring are aperient and healthy, yet need not 
be soaked in vinegar to be rendered palatable. 

Squashes and pumpkins are good, either stewed or eaten 
as sauce, or with bread, or made into plain pies. Yet they 
should not be spiced to death, or till their taste is nearly 
obliterated, and utility rendered doubtful ^^. To some consti- 
tutions, squash is especially serviceable. 


Are especially injurious. To children they often prove 
fatal. They ought never to come upon the table. How sen- 
sible persons can eat, or let their children eat them, I cannot 
imagine, except in ignorance of their dietetic effects. What, 
jeopard life for a momentary gratification ! 

Green corn is also pernicious. Green corn, cucumbers, 
and radishes never appear on my table, when only my own 
family are to be seated at it. In fact, green potatoes, very 
young peas and beans, and immature esculents of all kinds, 
ought never to be eaten. Wait till they get therr growth and 

62. NUTS, 

As generally eaten, are unwholesome, for two reasons. 
They are often eaten between meals, which we shall soon see 
to be highly injurious, and when the stomach is already over- 
loaded. Secondly, they contain a great amount of carbon, 
and thus increase that superabundance of it which is one great 
cause of disease. Yet eaten with, and as a part of food, they 
would undoubtedly prove highly beneficial, as they are emi- 
nently nutritious and palatable^''. The inhabitants of the 
South of France, Savoy, and a part of Italy, live almost ex- 
clusively on chestnuts during fall and the early part of win- 
ter, making them into bread and puddings in place of flour* 


Nuts abound in vegetable oil, and of course in carbon, and 
also in glutine and fibrine — three of the most important ele- 
ments required for sustaining life. Yet they should be dried 
or cooked. But we shall discuss their dietetic value more 
fully when we come to speak of animal heat. 

But to do full justice to this whole subject of the selection 
of food, would require an entire volume. This our restricted 
limits prevent. Yet having expounded nature's dietetic land- 
marks, the reader can easily fill up the details. 



HOW TO eat; or mastication, QUANTITY, TIME, ETC. 

Our food once selected in accordance with the foregoing 
principles, the next question is. How shall it be eaten ? With 
teeth, of course, never with the stomach. Nature forbids our 
throwing it into its receptacle as with a shovel. By rendering 
its only passage way small, she literally compels us to deposits 
it in small parcels. She has also furnished us with a mouth, 
set all around with two rows of teeth, which fit exactly upon 
each other, and are every way adapted to crushing our food 
to atoms, as will be seen from the accompanying engraving 
and description of them. Nor can we swallow our food 
without its being jcnore or less chewed. 

To persuade as well as compel such mastication, nature has 
rendered it highly pleasurable. Insteadof food being taste- 
less, she has given it a far more delicious flavor than all the 
spices of India could impart. Yet man does not know how 
to enjoy a tithe of the gustatory pleasure she has appended to 
eating. Not one in thousands know how to eat ! Not that 
all do not know how to eat enough, yet few know how to eat 
LITTLE enough ^^ All know how to eat fast enough, but very 
few know how to eat slowly enough. And strange as it may 
seem, few know how even to chew, simple, easy, and natural 
as this process is! Nine hundred and ninety-nine in every 
thousand, eat mostly with their stomachs instead of with their 
teeth ! One would think that this poor slave had to perform 
two or three times its wonted task, simply to digest the enor- 
mous quantities of heterogeneous compounds forced upon it, 
instead of being compelled, in addition, to do what the teeth 
should previously have done. Yet this practice is universal. 
Is eating indeed so very onerous a task that it should thus be 
hurried and slighted ? Most men pitch and shovel in their 
food in great hunks, mouthful following mouthful, thick and 




No. 7. The Teeth. 

The two front teeth in the upper jaw are called the median in- 
cisors ; the two next on each side the lateral incisors ; the two next 
the canines or eye teeth ; the two next the first bicuspidati ; and 
the two next the second bicuspidati ; the six next, three on each 
side, the molars or sapientia — sixteen in all. Those opposite to 
each of these respectively, in the under jaw, are called by the same 
names, and swell the entire number to thirty-two. 

These teeth are composed of bone, cased with the hardest sub- 
stance in the human body, called enamel, to prevent their breaking. 
They are kept in their places by fangs and muscles, and rendered 
sensitive by nerves which pass up into them by fissures or holes in 
the centers of their fangs. The inflammation of these nerves by 
exposure occasions the toothache. 

118 HOW TO EAT. ^ 

fast, which they give a twist or two, hit a crack or two, and 
poke down "in a jifFy;" eating in five minutes as much as 
would take a full hour to eat well. Americans generally 
treat eating as they treat impertinent customers — dismiss it 
without ceremony for something appertaining to business. Yet, 
than the due FEEDm& of the body, what is more important ^^? 
Of course the time occupied in eating should correspond. Be- 
sides, how can we expect to enjoy the gustatory pleasure 
nature has associated with eating, unless we take ample time 
for such enjoyment ? Instead of dispatching our meals to get 
to business, we should dispatch business, and eat at perfect 
leisure. We should never sit down to the table in a hurry, 
or till we have dismissed from the mind all idea that we have 
anything else on hand, and should then eat as leisurely as if 
time and tide waited for us. The ox and horse eat as quietly 
as though their food was their all. Only swine guttle down 
their food. And well they may ; for their tastes are so coarse 
that they eat what is most loathsome, and derive their pleasure 
from quantity mainly. Shall man imitate the swine ? Shall 
he bolt his food and hurry off to business, and thus forego gus- 
tatory enjoyment, and also shorten his days ; thereby curtail- 
ing that very business he is so anxious to do ? Take ample 
time to eat well, and you will live probably twice as long, and 
this protraction of life will enable you to do the more business. 
Eating fast is the worst possible stroke of business policy you 
can adopt. Let business stand, while you eat with the ut- 
most deliberation. Let nothing hurry you to, or at, or from 
the table. Make eating a paramount business, and the acqui- 
sition of wealth, a trifling toy in comparison. No one should 
deposite an ordinary meal in less than an hour. How foolish 
to cram it down with swinish voracity in five minutes ! Yet 
sapheads often make quick eating their boast. 

Though the loss of gustatory enjoyment — that most de- 
lightful repast — consequent on eating fast, is great and irre- 
parable, yet this is one of its smallest and lightest evils. 
It breaks down the stomach, and thus unmans and diseases 
the entire system. No other cause, if even a combination 
of causes, is as prolific of dyspepsia and all its dire array 


of evils, as this. We have not overrated the importance of a 
due selection of food, yet its proper mastication is far more 
important. Eat slowly and masticate thoroughly, and the 
kind of food eaten, however noxious, will rarely break down 
the stomach, but eating the best selection of food fast will ruin 
almost any stomach. How can the gastric juice penetrate the 
food unless it is mashed fine ? Food deposited in chunks 
defies its solvent power for a long time, meanwhile irritating 
and weakening its power ; whereas, if it were well crushed 
before it entered the stomach, this juice could penetrate or 
get hold of it, and digest it before fermentation occurred. 


Nor is this all. Food must be thoroughly salivated as a 
means of being thoroughly crushed. Hence nature has sta- 
tioned five glands about the mouth, two at the back part of the 
jaws called the parotted, two at the sides of the lower jaw 
called the sub-maxillary, and one under the tongue called the 
sublingual, always found at the root of boiled tongues, which 
secrete a half-watery, half-stringy viscid called saliva, and 
discharge it into the mouth when food is presented. Chewing 
mingles this saliva thoroughly with what we eat ; nor without 
it can we grind food perfectly fine, as all troubled with dry- 
ness of the mouth while eating, will witness. Such dryness 
is occasioned by the weakness of these glands ; but when 
healthy, the presence of food in the mouth provokes them to 
secrete and discharge great quantities of this saliva, and even 
the sight of food "makes the mouth water." Tantalize a 
hungry dog a few minutes with the sight of his dinner with- 
out giving it to him, and this saliva will run out at the cor- 
ners of his mouth, and hang down in transparent gelatinous 
strings. That clear, tasteless spittle which lubucrates every 
healthy mouth, especially while eating, is composed mainly 
of saliva. 

This secretion was not created for nought. It fulfils some 
IMPORTANT end in the nutritive economy, else it would not 
exist — especially in such great abundance. Probably half its 
virtues are not yet known ; but the following chemical analysis 

120 HOW TO EAT. 

of it, and some of its effects on food, attest both its utility and 
absolute necessity. 

" M. Mialhe has recently made numerous researches with refe- 
rence to the physiology of digestion. The essential basis of the 
alimentation of animals, he states, is constituted by three distinct 
groups of bodies : albuminous, fatty, and saccharine matters. The 
labors of modern chemists have shown that albuminous substances 
become assimilatable through the assistance of the gastric juice, 
which, by its acid, swells these azotized products, and by its pepsin 
liquefies them, a phenomenon analogous to that of diastasis on 
amidon. Fatty matter becomes assimilatable by the intervention 
of bile, but with regard to feculaceous and saccharine matter, says 
M. Mialhe, there is nothing positive known. This lacuna in science 
he has endeavored to fill. 

*' The new facts at which M. Mialhe has arrived, tend to show 
that all hydro-carbonaceous substances can only undergo the phe- 
nomenon of assimilation when they have been decomposed by the 
weak alkaline dissolutions contained in the vital humors ; either im- 
mediately, as with glucose, dextrine, sugar of milk ; or mediately, 
as with cane-sugar and amidon, which have to be first transformed 
in the economy, the one (cane-sugar) into glucose, the other 
into dexti'ine of glucose. As to hydro-carbonaceous substances, 
which are neither susceptible of fermentation nor of decomposition 
by weak acids, or alkalies in solution, such as lignite or mannite, 
they escape, in man, the digestive and assimilating action. But 
by what chemical action is the amidon transformed into dextrine 
and glucose ? Numerous experiments have proved to M. Mialhe 
that this transformation is produced by the saliva, through a princi- 
ple which the humor contains, a principle comparable, in every 
respect, to diastasis. In order to isolate it, human saliva, first fil- 
tered, is treated by five or six times its weight of alcohol, alcohol 
being added until precipitation ceases. The animal diastasis is de- 
posited in white flakes. It is gathered on a filter, from which it is 
taken still moist, and dried in layers on glass, by a current of warm 
air, at a temperature of from 40 to 50 degrees (centigr;) it is pre- 
served in a well-stoppered bottle. This active principle of the saliva 
is solid, white, or of a grayish white, amorphous, insoluble in alcohol, 
soluble in water and weak alcohol. The aqueous solution is insipid, 
neutral ; the sub-acetate of lead does not give rise to precipitate. 
Abandoned to itself, it soon becomes acid, and whether or not in 
contact with the air. This animal diastasis^ studied comparatively 
with diastasis extracted from germinating barley, presents the same 
mode of action. It transforms amidon into dextrine and glucose ; 
acting on starch, and elevating the temperature to 70 or 80 degrees, 
the liquefaction is nearly immediate. One part of this substance 
suffices to liquefy and convert two thousand parts of fecula. The 
agents, such as creosote, tannin, the powerful acids, the salts of 
mercury, of copper, ot silver, etc., which destroy the properties of 
diastasis, act in the same manner with respect to the active princi- 


pie of saliva. At an equal weight they both liquefy and transform 
the same quantity of hydrated amidon. It appears, even, that the 
active principle of germinated barley is seldom as energetic as that 
of saliva, which is owing to the greater facility of obtaining the lat- 
ter in a pure state. Finally, as a last resemblance, the animal dia- 
stasis existing in the saliva of man rarely exceeds two thousandths, 
and this is exactly the proportion of the diastasis contained in the 
germinating barley." — Lancet. 

Its wonderful solvent powers — converting two thousand 
TIMES its own quantity of fecula — one of the principal ingredi- 
ents of food, and its liquefying starch — is the point to which 
special attention is invited. It thus appears that saliva, be- 
sides facilitating mastication and deglutition — for without it 
food would be too dry to be swallowed easily— in part dis- 
solves the food, and prepares it for the action of the gastric 
juice before it enters the stomach. As cotton must go through 
several pkeparatory processes before it can be woven ; ground 
plowed before it can be planted, etc. ; so food must be both 
ground fine by mastication and saturated with saliva, till the 
starch of food, one of its most nutritive elements ^^, is liquefied 
and prepared for the digestive process. How deeply impor- 
tant, then, that we thoroughly chew our food, and also that 
we keep these salivary glands in a healthy, sound, and vig- 
orous state f The stomach has abundance of hard work to 
perform, after thorough mastication and salivation have pre- 
pared the food for digestion. Especially is this true of weak 
stomachs. Nor can the digestive process be complete, or 
make good blood, without this preparation. The reader will 
please note this principle, as we shall found several impor- 
tant directions to dyspeptics on it, when we come to treat of 
the cure of disordered digestion. 

The food is next swallowed, or passed down the sesophagus, 
or meat-pipe — a long duct connected with the back part of the 
mouth, (see engraving of the stomach,) and furnished with 
longitudinal and transverse fibres, which, contracting from 
above downwards, impels its contents down into the stomach ; 
but, contracting from below upwards, as in vomiting, expels 
the contents of the stomach upwards, into and out at the moiith, 
often with great force. 



Important as are its right selection and due mastication and 
salivation, its quantity is probably still more so. Unwhole- 
some kinds engender far less disease and suffering than ex- 
cess in AMOUNT. Health and disease depend vastly more 
on HOW MUCH we eat, than what. Many, especially dyspep- 
tics, far more than counterbalance all the good effects of a 
plain diet, by over-eating. Not that the gormandizing of 
plain food is not far less injurious than that of unwholesome 
kinds, but that excess in quantity is even more unhealthy than 
quality. Nor is it exaggeration to say, that most civilized na 
tions, and even individuals, make perfect gluttons of themselves. 
This is doubly true of Americans. An English Quaker on 
his return from a transatlantic tour, when asked what he 
thought of the Yankees, returned answer that " Their men 
are all gluttons, and their women all slaves." Notice the 
disappearance of dishful after dishful, and even tableful after 
tableful, at our public and private meals. Watch your own 
plate, and notice how many times, though it is loaded to begin 
with, you " back up your cart" for another load. All this 
besides the desserts. Though we may "not eat as much as the 
Indians, who are reputed by several travellers to stuff them- 
selves with from six to fifteen pounds of meat per day, when 
they can get it, and even eat a great portion of their time, yet, 
on the average, we eat at least from two to three times more 
than nature requires. Nearly every reader will bear the 
self-condemning witness, that he often eats so enormously as 
to feel uncomfortable, stupid, and often almost sick ; and most 
who will omit an occasional meal, will feel twice as well for 
a day or two afterwards. But, to bring our remarks to a 
point, notice 


Everywhere observable. Dyspeptics eat enormously — 
nearly twice as much as ordinary persons, while those who 
enjoy perfect health, and have never been sick, eat less than 
half as much as others, and not a quarter as much as dyspep- 
tics. The bully of the Erie Canal in 1837, and of course the 


strongest, spriest, and toughest man of all those powerful 
navigators of that extended water, ate less than half as much 
as the average of his passengers. A comb-factory man in 
Newbury, Mass., who has always enjoyed the very best of 
health, is surprisingly abstemious in the quantity of his food. 
Aged persons usually eat very little, and hence their length of 
life. Men of great talents and virtues usually practice rigid 
abstinence. Wesley furnished a noted example. See what 
he did and endured — how little he ate and how often he fasted. 
And Bible recommendations and requisitions of fasting are 
undoubtedly founded on this law. 

Fleshy persons usually eat lightly, while spare persons, the 
world over, are generally great eaters. The reason is this : 
What the former do eat, they completely digest, extracting 
from it all its sustaining virtue, so that they need but little ; 
whereas gourmands disorder their stomachs, so that the enor- 
mous quantities they consume are not converted into nourish- 
ment. A little food, well assimilated, yields far more nutri- 
tion and life than quantities crudely digested. In fact, glut- 
tony doubly starves its subjects ; first enfeebling and disorder- 
ing digestion, so that it cannot extract the nourishment from 
food, and secondly, by a gnawing, hankering, craving state of 
the stomach, akin to starvation. 


Old Parr, who became a father after he was one hundred 
and twenty, and retained his health and all his faculties un- 
impaired till he visited the royal court, aged one hundred and 
fifty-two, died in about a year, from slightly letting down his 
extreme abstemiousness. 

Louis Cornaro, who, by abandoning those excesses which 
broke his constitution and threatened him with death at thirty- 
six, baffled disease in its most aggravated form, by confining 
himself to less than twelve ounces of solid and exclusively 
vegetable food per day, was over-persuaded to increase this 
quantity only two ounces, the effects of which he describes 
as follows : " This increase, in eight days, had such an effect 
upon me, that from being remarkably cheerful and brisk, I 


began to be peevish and melancholy, and was constantly so 
strangely disposed, that I neither knew what to say to others, 
nor what to do with myself. On the twelfth day I was at- 
tacked with a violent pain in my side, which held me twenty- 
two hours, and was followed by a violent fever, which contin- 
ued thirty-five days, without giving me a moment's respite." 
This was his only sickness during sixty-three years of abste- 

Richard Lloyd, " a strong, straight, upright man, wanting 
no teeth, having no gray hairs, fleshy and full cheeked, and 
the calves of his legs not wasted or shrunk, his hearing, 
sight, and speech, as good as ever," at one hundred and thirty 
years of age, being persuaded to substitute a meat and malt- 
liquor diet, for one consisting exclusively of bread, butter, 
cheese, whey, and buttermilk with water, " soon fell off and 

Dr. Cheyne reduced his weight from four hundred and 
forty-eight to one hundred and forty pounds by abstinence, 
grew corpulent and sick on a more generous diet, and was 
restored by abstemiousness. His practical and theoretical 
model was, " The lightest and least of meat and drink a man 
can be tolerably easy under, is the shortest and most infallible 
means to preserve life, health, and serenity." 

Dr. James Johnson, one of the ablest of modern physiolo- 
gists, who cured himself of an aggravated dyspeptic malady 
by rigid abstemiousness, and then wore out two armies, in two 
wars, and thought he could wear out another, says : " The 
quantity should never exceed half a pound in weight at din- 
ner, even when that can be borne without a single unpleasant 
sensation succeeding. It is quite enough, and generally too 
much. The invalid will acquire a degree of strength and 
firmness, not fulness, of muscle, on this quantity, which will, 
in time, surprise his friends as well as himself." "Such will 
often derive more nourishment and strength from four ounces 
of gruel every six hours, than from half a pound of animal 
food end a pint of wine." 

THE author's experience. 125 

68. THE author's experience 

Fully confirms these converging testimonials. When so 
crowded with professional calls that he was obliged to postpone 
meals or dismiss customers, he occasionally chose the former, 
and soon found that it doubled and trebled his capability to 
endure mental labor ; and soon adopted the practice of fasting 
whenever he was pressed with business, and preparatory to 
lecturing. To eat supper before lecturing, always greatly 
mars and enfeebles both matter and manner, so that he always 
prepares himself for the desk by fasting ; and to write on a 
full stomach is an utter impossibility. No one who has not 
frequently practised rigid abstemiousness in quantity as well as 
quality, can appreciate the far greater flow of thoughts, words, 
and facts, and the enhanced clearness of mind and inten- 
sity of feeling, produced by fasting. It may indeed be carried 
so far as to prostrate, yet even a state of hunger quickens 
mental action, while a full meal is as lead tied to the soar- 
ing eagle. I find the less I eat the more I think. I have 
crippled months and years of my precious life by over- 
loading my stomach, and thus proclaim my own faults 
that others may take warning. But I am determined to 
commit this sin no more. Shall I — will you — longer fetter 
the immortal mind, by indulging appetite ? Shall propensity 
blight the godlike powers of the human soul 1 Gluttony is 
the great sand-bank of mind. Nor is there any telling how 
much abstinence would enhance the progress of our scholars, 
the mental and moral powers and consequent usefulness of 
ministers, and the intellectual acumen of all who require 
mental strength and activity. Nor do the feelings escape this 
palsying grasp of over-eating. They even suffer most. It 
blunts and benumbs all our keener, finer, holier emotions, and 
curtails enjoyment more universally and effectually than al- 
most any other cause, besides all the untold anguish of body 
and mind it induces. The extent and magnitude of the evils 
of intemperance in drinking, though they far exceed even the 
glowing descriptions of all its opponents combined, fall far, 
very far, below the evils of excessive eating. The former 
are limited comparatively to few ; the latter is almost universal, 


and practised from the cradle to the grave. Mothers begin 
by choking their infants with the breast every time they cry, 
though this very crossness is generally occasioned by exces- 
sive nursing ; and still aggravate the evil by stuffing, stuffing, 
stuffing their children with pies, cakes, candies, nuts, apples, 
and the like, from the time they rise till they retire, year in 
and year out, so that most children grow up gourmands. And 
this soul-and-body destroying habit " grows with our growth, 
and strengthens with our strength." 

" I tell you honestly," says Dr. Abernethy, " what I think 
is the cause of the complicated maladies of the human race. 
It is their gormandizing, and stimulating, and stuffing their 
digestive organs to excess, thereby producing nervous disor- 
ders and irritation." Another eminent medical writer says : 
" It is the opinion of the majority of the most distinguished 
physicians, that intemperance in diet destroys the bulk of man- 
kind." " Most of all the chronic diseases, the infirmities of 
old age, and the short period of the lives of Englishmen, are 
owing to repletion." 

" And I do firmly believe," says President Hitchcock, " that 
scarcely any sedentary or literary man can exceed from 
twelve to sixteen ounces of solid food, and from fourteen to 
twenty-four of liquid per day, and keep within the bounds of 
temperance." Soldiers are more vigorous and healthy on 
scant than on full rations. Pugilists are fitted for the bloody 
ring, and horses for the race, by great abstemiousness com- 
bined with extreme exertion of muscle, which proves that 
abstinence facilitates labor. In short, every dietetic fact and 
principle goes to establish these two conclusions, that all eat 
double the quantity of food necessary for the attainment of the 
highest state of mental and physical vigor and endurance, and 
that over eating is the great cause of modern disease and de- 
pravity. One and all, try abstemiousness : the well, that 
they may retain and enhance health ; invalids, that they 
may banish feebleness and maladies, and again enjoy the 
blessings of health ; the literary, that they may augment 
mental efficiency ; laborers, that they may increase working 
ease and capability, and, above all, the sedentary, that they 


may ward off the impending evils of confinement within doors. 
I would have no one eat one mouthful too little — rather too 
much, for nature can cast off surplus food better than supply 
or endure its deficiency — but the exact quantity most promo- 
tive of strength, talents, and happiness, is incalculably prefer- 
able to either too much or too little. How much is best we 
proceed to show. 


Appetite is a perfectly certain guide to quantity as well as 
kind^^, when it is normal or unperverted. We have too often 
proved the principle here involved to require its repetition. 
Yet, alas ! so perverted is the natural appetite of almost all, 
that it is a drunken pilot in a storm. Indeed, it is far worse 
than no guide, for it leads astray. To lose this infallible 
guide in so important a matter, is most unfortunate ; but by 
constantly tempting to over eat, it engenders a great portion 
of those very maladies and sufferings you and I, reader, and 
all mankind, experience, and is abridging the period of our 
and their existence at least one half! 

The fact of this abnormal condition of appetite is rendered 
apparent by its cause. That a most intimate inter-relation 
exists between the stomach and Alitnentiveness is rendered 
perfectly clear both by Phrenology and Philosophy. The 
latter is the organ of the former, and therefore the inter-relation 
of all their states with each other is perfectly reciprocal ^^. 
This reciprocity must be perfect, in order that when the 
stomach requires food, it may excite the feeling of hunger in 
Alimentiveness. But for such inter-relation, the stomach 
could never make known its requisitions for food. The per- 
fection of the nutritive process demands such reciprocity, and 
that it be perfect. Whatever, therefore, inflames the stom- 
ach, thereby excites Alimentiveness and creates cravings akin 
to hunger. Excess of food necessarily inflamesthe stomach, 
and of course always provokes those hankerings after food, 
which most of us mistake for real hunger. Yet such cravings 
are caused, not by hunger, but by surfeiting. This shows 
v^^iy dyspeptics generally have such enormous appetites. 


They have inflamed their stomachs, and this renders their 
appetite morbid, and its cravings insatiable. And the more 
such eat, the more they crave. Let them eat and eat by the 
hour together, they still feel what they call hungry, though it 
is to true hunger what fever is to the circulation. Eating, so 
far from sating this morbid craving, only enhances it. True, 
they feel weak, gone, faint, and ravenous — feel that they 
shall drop down, unless they can get something to eat soon — 
yet the more they eat the more they crave, because the more 
they inflame the stomach, and of course its cerebral organ, 
Alimentiveness. Cannot such see that they eat twice as 
much as men in general, and four times more than many 
around them who enjoy uninterrupted health ? How can 
they require so much when others get along so much better 
with so little ? What could more conclusively prove that 
both their craving and diseases proceed from their gluttony ? 
And what establishes this point beyond a doubt, is that pro- 
tracted abstemiousness will diminish these stomatic gnaw- 
ings. Make trial, ye thus afflicted, and you will be surprised 
at their decrease. And, in general, those who feel faint in 
the morning till they eat, ravenous before dinner, and hungry 
before supper, should attribute these cravings to an over- 
loaded stomach instead ef to an empty one. And they who 
suffer much from omitting a meal may depend upon it that 
they over eat. Fasting gives little inconvenience to healthy 
stomachs ; nor is there a more sure sign of gluttony than 
these hankerings, and this faintness when a meal is omitted. 
Contradictory though it may seem, yet of all such cravings 
persevering abstemiousness is a perfect cure, because it allays 
that irritation of the stomach which causes them, and which 
full feeding enhances, and thereby reinflames appetite. Only 
try its virtues, ye thus afflicted. Fast instead of feast ; and 
keep fasting till you can, like those in health, omit meal after 
meal with little inconvenience or prostration. Especially 
should such omit supper, and drink copiously of cold water 
an hour before breakfast. 

" Whenever," says Dr. Janies Johnson, " our food is followed 
by inaptitude for mental or corporeal exertion, we have trans- 


gressed the rules of health, and are laying the foundation for dis- 
ease. Any discomfort of body, any irritability or despondency 
of mind, succeeding food and drink, at the distance of an hour, 
a day, or even two or three days, may be regarded, other 
evident causes being absent, as a presumptive proof that tho 
quantity ha?s been too much, or the quality injurious. If a 
few hours after his dinner, he feel a sense of distension in the 
stomach and bowels, or any of the symptoms of indigestion 
which have been pointed out ; if he feel a languor of body, 
or a cloudiness of the mind ; if he have a restless night ; if 
he have experienced a depression of spirits, or irritability of 
temper next morning, his previous meals have been too much, 
or improper in kind, and he must reduce and simplify till he 
come to that quantity and quality of food and drink for dinner, 
which will produce little or no alteration in his feelings, 
whether of exhilaration immediately after dinner, or of dis- 
comfort some time after this meal. This is the criterion by 
which the patient must judge for himself" 

The fact is, we may accustom ourselves to eat little or much 
at pleasure, with this difference, that the former habit leaves the 
muscles and brain unoppressed and active ; the latter stupefies 
the whole man by diverting the energies from all the other or- 
gans and concentrating them in the brain. Agents and tourists 
among the Indians concur in the declaration that they will eat 
from six to fifteen pounds of meat in the twenty-four hours, 
spending most of their time in eating it when they can get it. 
" For a few days," says Captain Duval, " after getting into 
camp, he will eat from eight to ten pounds, and for the first 
day or two would even exceed that quantity." " The Osages," 
says Captain Rogers, " often eat from ten to fifteen pounds of 
fresh meat in the course of the twenty-four hours, particularly 
on returning from a fatiguing hunt, when I have no doubt 
they frequently consume from five to six pounds at a meal." 
Mayor Armstrong says, " They would consume from six to 
eight pounds per day," — a quantity " under instead of over the 
true estimate." Mr. Robert Cook says, "I have seen a prairie 
Indian eat and destroy, upon his arrival in camp, fifteen 
pounds of beef in twenty-four hours. I am further of opinion 


that they will eat daily ten pounds throughout the year." 
Of the amount of food eaten by the Esquimaux, John Ross 
says, " Their consumption of food is enormous, and often 
incredible. They eat, perhaps, twenty pounds of flesh and 
oil daily." Sir W. E. Percy weighed out to a half-grown 
Esquimaux boy eight pounds of sea-horse-flesh, one pound 
twelve ounces of bread, one pint and a quarter of rich gravy 
soup, a gallon of water, and six wine-glasses of spirits, a 
"quantity no way extraordinary." 

Of the Siberian Yakuti, Captain Cochran says the Russian 
Admiral Saritcheff" gave to a Yakut, who was said to have 
eaten in twenty- four hours, " the hind quarter of a large ox, 
twenty pounds of fat, and a proportionate quantity of melted 
butter for his drink" — "a thick porridge of rice boiled down with 
three pounds of butter, weighing together twenty-eight pounds, 
and although the glutton had already breakfasted, yet did he 
sit down to it with great eagerness, and consume the whole 
without stirring from the spot." Captain Cochran adds, that 
a good calf, weighing two hundred pounds, "may serve four 
or five good Yakuti for a single meal. I have seen three of 
these gluttons consume a reindeer at a single meal." 

Barrow says, " Ten of our Hottentots ate a m.iddling sized 
ox, all but the two hind legs in three days, but they had very 
little sleep during the time, and had fasted the two proceeding 
days. With them the word is eat or sleep." He adds of the 
Bosgesmans, " The three who accompanied us to our waggons, 
had a sheep given to them about five in the evening, which 
they entirely consumed before noon the next day." 

The author's father once knew a glutton who ate two 
chickens, with the usual accompaniements of bread and 
sauce, and called for more. The dinner, prepared for eight 
workmen, was next brought on, which he dispatched, they not 
having been called, and when he called for more still, bread 
and a cheese were set on. When the landlord reproved him 
for cutting the cheese in slices instead of in towards the 
center, he replied, " that it made no difference, since he calcu- 
lated to take the whole," to avoid which the landlord started 
on a drove of cattle he was driving, and thus hurried him 


from his unfinished meal, though he took in his hand a large 
slice of bread and another of cheese. 

Germans, as a nation, are great eaters, while Spaniards and 
French live comfortably on very little, but the former are no 
more healthy than the latter. And the world over, great 
eaters are exceedingly stupid and indolent. Of this, the 
Indians, Hottentots, and Yakuti are examples. Then why 
stupefy ourselves by gluttony ? Or why follow appetite as 
our guide to quantity ? Those who crave and consume great 
quantities of food do so from gluttony not necessity. Such, 
so far from freely indulging their appetites, and thus enhancing 
their voracity, should reduce it by abstinence. Nor need 
they fear starvation. The Spaniards do not suffer for want 
of food, but eat all that unperverted nature requires. And 
all that any one requires more than this is unnatural — the 
demands of a depraved appetite, not of nature. Let us seek 
and follow nature's standard, not our own inordinate cravings, 
and the result will be increased mental and physical capa- 
bility and enjoyment. 

While, therefore, natural appetite is nature's infallible 
guide to the right quantity of food, yet I warn every reader 
that his appetite is perverted, and if followed, will breed 
debility and suffering — it being with quantity as already ex- 
plained in regard to kind ^^ So that here, too, as there, we 
must practice temporary self-denial till both the stomach and 
Alimentiveness regain their healthy tone. I err in saying 
"self-denial ;" for, be it ever remembered, that this very fast- 
ing will enhance even our present as well as future gustatory 
pleasure. These unnatural cravings can neither appreciate 
nor enjoy the delicious flavor of food, but seek in quantity the 
pleasure lost in a blunted appetite. Let these fainting hank- 
erers omit supper, and they will take double the pleasure 
in two daily meals they now take in three. Such, to be epi- 
cures must first be stoics. Those convinced of over-eating 
will now enquire 

182 EATING. 


Doubtless most readers conscious of excess, would give 
fjmost anything to know how they can manage to govern this 
incessant craving ? Every little while they suffer from excess, 
and firmly resolve to eat less, and succeed at a single meal 
only to eat the more afterwards. Indeed, few things are 
more difficult than to govern a morbid appetite, whether for 
alcoholic liquors, or unhealthy viands, or excessive quantities 
of food. He that can do this, can march to the stake. To 
rule a kingdom is play compared with controlling a morbid 
appetite. Yet this is not so difficult after we know how. 
Many try hard enough, but do not try right. Follow the 
succeeding directions and this task will soon become easy. 

First. Take upon your plate, in one or two parcels, all the 
food, except perhaps the dessert, you think best to eat at a 
meal, even though it may seem to be a " cart-load," and leave 
off when that is finished, instead of " backing up your cart" 
for another load. By this means alone can you fully realize 
how much you do eat. Or if this is impracticable, notice 
how much you have previously taken, so as to bear in mind 
the sum total consumed. But if you take potatoe after potatoe, 
and slice after slice of meat, and bread, and the like, relying 
upon an already inflamed appetite for your guide to quantity, 
or till your stomach, stretched by a thousand surfeits, is pained 
by fulness ^^, be assured you will over-eat. Weighing a few 
meals, till you have learned to estimate correctly by the eye, 
and never exceeding twenty ounces per day of solid food — 
and from twelve to sixteen will be found ample for both 
the sedentary and laboring — will soon aid you in curtailing 
appetite. When pressed with business or writing, I limit my- 
self to a pound or less of bread per day, exclusive of fruit, 
and eat nothing besides. 

Especially should every meal of every child be measured 
out to them on setting down to the table, with the full under- 
standing that they can have no more till the next meal. 
They will thus grow up to this much desired limitation. The 
Scotch custom of placing before each child all it is to have 


at that meal, every mother should apply to her children, and 
all adults to themselves. Never make them eat to save. 

Secondly. Eat it in small mouthfuls. When we cram 
in great mouthfuls, and chew only till we can barely swallow, 
and then hurry in as much more as the mouth will hold, we 
eat far greater " cart-loads" in a short time than we suppose. 
But when we take a small quantity at a time, and chew it 
till it is fitted for deposite in the stomach, instead of a great 
pile of food seeming little, a little will go a great way both 
in satisfying appetite and in nourishing the body, meanwhile 
strengthening instead of impairing digestion. See some chil- 
dren eat. They take a small bite, and laugh, play, and talk, 
perhaps even while chewing it, and then take a little more, 
and thus spin out their eating a long time. Do likewise, and 
you will find it easier to stop eating a small meal than now a 
large one. 

Besides, when you eat fast, and in large mouthfuls, the 
stomach hardly realizes how much food it has taken until it 
is almost crushed under its burden. Follow these simple 
directions — parcel out your meal at the commencement, and 
then eat in small mouthfuls at a time, and masticate thoroughly, 
and the government of appetite will be easy. But to govern 
a craving appetite while you eat fast is next to impossible. 

A THIRD means of reducing the quantity of food consists in 
EATING SELDOM. This brings up for canvass another import- 
ant dietetic condition : 


How OFTEN should we eat ? Nature, not habit, should deter- 
mine this point. Nor can I resist the conviction that one meal 
in the twenty-four hours is amply sufficient for all the purposes 
of nutrition. This may seem a fanciful chimera, but nature's 
division of time should determine the frequency of eating as 
well as sleeping. This division into day and night plainly 
indicates that we should eat once in twenty-four hours. 
About any more than this she says nothing. Yet if additional 
frequency had been necessary, she would have divided time 


134 EATING. 

If you think you could not go without food so long, remem- 
ber that by eating every two hours you can habituate yourself 
to being hungry as often, or by accustoming yourself to two 
meals, as many do in winter, you feel quite as comfortable on 
two meals as on three with luncheons. Since we require 
more food, and that more frequently in cold weather than in 
warm, as will be seen under " animal heat," and since the 
increased labors of summers consume far less extra food than 
the extra cold of winter ^^, therefore as we can live comfortably 
on two meals in winter, much more can we in summer, and 
without luncheon, of which presently. It is habit, not na- 
ture, which makes us desire three diurnal meals, and would 
require six if we were accustomed to eat thus often. The 
English must have a bite on rising, a breakfast, a luncheon, 
a dinner, and a supper, and then a plate of oysters, or bread 
and cheese, with ale, pick the cold bones left at dinner, or 
something of the kind, on retiring — six meals or luncheons 
per day — and think they cannot live without them all. Yet 
the ancients ate but one full meal per day, at four P. M., 
except their breakfast — a luncheon in hand about eleven 
A. M. The Thracians offered public thanksgivings to the 
gods because Cyrus and his army ate but one meal per day. 
And every one of the many with whom the author has con- 
versed who have exchanged the three-meal system for the 
two, declare themselves much improved in mind and body 
thereby. With this my own experience fully accords. A 
breakfast at eight or nine, and a hearty dinner at three, are far 
better for me than a third meal ; and a little practice has fully 
satisfied me that I could soon omit breakfast and supper 
without inconvenient hunger, and with great benefit. If 
laborers say they cannot endure work without their three 
meals, I tell them in return, how utterly puerile are their 
labors compared with the herculean exertions of the ancient 
soldiers, whether marching, or building, or besieging, or fight- 
ing ! And since they endured so much on one meal, cannot 
you so little, or at least on two ? Your stomachs, like your 
muscles, must have rest. This, three meals per day do not 

FREQUENCY. .. 135 

allow, nor time to secrete new supplies of gastric juice, also 
indispensable to complete digestion. 

Still I would not recommend a sudden change from three 
meals and a lunch to one, or even two, but begin with a light 
supper, then postpone dinner and omit supper, and after a 
year, or two, or three, eat only a light breakfast, and ultimately, 
if you choose, omit it also, though this I hardly recommend 
to any accustomed to three meals, yet think this habit prefer- 
able if formed in childhood. The error lies in the nursery. 
But of this in my work on " Maternity." 

" But why not less and oftener ?" it is enquired. Because 
the same quantity can be digested with far more ease at two, 
that at three or more times ; because we are much less liable 
to over-eat on the two than three-meal system ; and especially 
because the latter allows that rest which the muscles and 
nerves of the stomach require, quite as much as those of the 
arms, feet, eyes, or any other organ ; and such rest greatly 
enhances its power. And with this view my own long and 
often varied experience fully accords. You may eat as often 
as you like, but let me eat only twice per day ; and I wish I 
had the habit formed of eating only once. 

But invalids, it is generally supposed, must eat often. The 
reverse. Their debility or disease prevents their consuming 
much of the energy derived from food, so that they require 
less, and their exhausted stomachs pre-eminently require rest. 
" There is nothing," says Dr. Cheyne, " more supremely 
ridiculous than to see tender, hysterical, and vaporish people, 
perpetually complaining yet perpetually cramming ; crying 
out they are ready to sink into the ground and faint away, yet 
gobbling down the richest and strongest food and highest cor- 
dials." In fact, I know of no more effectual remedy, both for 
chronic invalids and the sick, than fasting. Why take food 
when they cannot digest it, especially since its presence only 
clogs and irritates ? As gormandizing is one great breeder 
of disease, so abstinence is one great remedy. Whether in- 
finitessimal doses of hoemopathy are potent or harmless, one 
thing is certain, that the dietetic prescriptions of this medical 
sect are most beneficial^ Nor is the temperance regimen as- 

13t> EATING. 

sociated with the " water-cure" scarcely less efficacious as a 
restorative agent than this powerful remedial agent. Abste- 
miousness and water, rightly applied, will restore almost all 
to health, while frequent eating puts back almost all conva- 
lescents, and often induces a relapse, and hurries its victim, 
already renovated by sickness, and prepared for a return of 
health, into a re-opening grave. Even many convalescents, 
whom over-eating does not kill outright, are injured by it for 
Mfe, and loaded anew with disease. Let all heed these warn- 
ings, thus frequent and palpable, and learn the abstemious 
lesson they teach. 


Next come up for reprehension. If two meals are suffi- 
cient for human sustenance, eating between three must cer- 
tainly be injurious. The stomach, on receiving its allow- 
ance, empties into itself a copious discharge of that gastric 
juice which dissolves the food, and does not secrete another 
supply till all that meal is disposed of and another demanded. 
Hence, what we eat between meal-times must lay in the 
stomach undigested, only to irritate and disease. Besides, to 
interfere with this process by introducing a fresh mass into 
one partly dissolved, distracts and arrests its healthy action, 
and causes that first received to lay until incipient fermenta- 
tion takes place — of the evils of which presently. Not once a 
month do I eat between meals unless just before or after, so 
as, in fact, to be a part of them, and always when I do, hear 
from it in the form of dyspeptic pains. Nuts, cakes, candies, 
apples, oranges, and the like, should, therefore, be eaten vi^ith 
meals, not between them ; and those who violate this law 
must suffer the direful consequences of disordered digestion. 

This principle condemns that motherly custom of giving 
pieces to children between meals. It will as surely derange 
their stomachs, and thus breed worms, as it is practised. I 
protest against it, and beseech mothers to give their children 
nothing between their regular meals. If they must have 
apples, nuts, and the like, see that they eat them just before 
or right after, or along with them ; and if adults would enjoy 


dainties, keep them till meal-time. Nor should luncheons 
ever be eaten. Do not disturb the digestive process. Many 
of us, by thus eating unseasonably, have undoubtedly in- 
flicted aggravated pains and lingering maladies upon ourselves 
which will burden us while alive, and hasten our death. 


Also deserves attention. We should never take food just 
after rising, but wait till the stomach is prepared for it by 
exercise. Some urge inability to exercise till after breakfast, 
because of consequent faintness. This is the very reason 
why they should exercise. Its cause is, that stomachic in- 
flammation, already explained ^^ which can be cured in part 
by exercise before breakfast, little and light at first, and then 
gradually increasing its duration and amount as it can be 
borne. Their difficulty is dyspepsia, the cure of which re- 
mains to be discussed. 

Nor should food be eaten within at least three hours before 
retiring. True, sleep sometimes promotes digestion, yet the 
latter interferes with sleep, " nature's great restorer." A full 
stomach is very apt to engender bad dreams, and induce rest- 
lessness and starting in sleep, of which nightmare is only an 
aggravated example. Especially should nuts, raisins, candies, 
fruit, etc., be eschewed at night. Eat little, if any, supper, 
and that three or more hours before retiring, and you will 
sleep the more sweetly, and feel the better the next day, be- 
cause of the far greater good your sleep will do you. I for 
one feel best when I do not eat for six or eight hours before 
retiring, nor till I have been " up and doing" at least two 
hours. Yet in this case I would eat a hearty dinner. 

But where three meals are eaten, seven, twelve, and five 
are undoubtedly the best hours ; where only two, from eight 
to nine, and two to three are probably preferable. Business 
men who dine at three, should, by all means, forego forenoon 
luncheons and late suppers — in fact, all suppers, because the 
former unfit the stomach for dinner, and the latter, especially 
on the top of a hearty dinner, are doubly injurious. I recom- 
mend readers to breakfast about nine, and dine between two 


and three, and strenuously object to disturbing the digestive 
process after the latter hour. Even if, at first, you feel faint 
before retiring, sleep will abate hunger, so that you can endure 
two hours abstinence before breakfast with little inconvenience. 


Is one of the most remarkable as well as important opera- 
tions of the human economy. How soon the horse drops dead 
when his maw, or second stomach, is eaten through by the bott- 
worm. How suddenly cold water on an over-heated stom- 
ach suspends life by palsying this organ ! How sudden and 
fearful the ravages of the cholera, which consist solely in 
disordered digestion ! How rapidly children, taken down 
with the bowel complaint, fall away and die ! Yet nothing 
but suspended digestion causes this leanness and death. 
How effectually impaired digestion, in the form of dyspepsia, 
frustrates both physical and mental energy! A vigorous 
stomach is indispensable to energy in any and every other 
portion of the system. Let us then examine this organ. 

It consists of a sack ''^ capable of holding from a quart to 
several gallons, according as it has been more or less distended 
by excess or deficiency of food and drink. Its upper side is 
much shorter than its under, thus appearing like a bag held 
horizontally, and ruffled on its upper edge ^^ It has two open- 
ings, the one where the food enters, located at its left superior 
side, and called the cardiac orifice '^, from its proximity to the 
heart, and the other, situated at the rig-ht superior side, named 
the pyloric orifice ^^, through which the food, after having un- 
dergone the chymifying process, makes its egress into the duo- 
denum, or second stomach. The latter opening is constructed 
with a valve, or door, so arranged as to close upon and send 
back whatever presents itself for egress not completely dis- 
solved ; and it departs from this rule in extreme cases only, 
and where things cannot be digested without remaining so 
long in the stomach as seriously to threaten its injury. Hence 
the ejection of food either way, undigested or much as it was 
eaten, is a sure index of a deranged stomach, because a vig- 
orous one would first dissolve whatever is soluble. 



No. 8. The Stomach and Intestinal Canal. 

C the cardiac orifice through which the food enters ; P the py- 
loric orifice through which the chyme passes out ; S S the coronal 
artery of the stomach. Another artery is seen passing under the 
stomach, and those lines seen to pass in all directions are ramifica- 
tions of blood-vessels. 


TD TD the chyle duct; 
L lacteals ; M G mesentary 
glands, several of which are 
here represented ; S spinal 
column. The folding struc- 
ture of the intestines is here 
well represented. 

No. 9. Intestines, Lacteals, and Mesentary Glands. 
(See page 147.) 


It is composed of three membranes — the outer, called the 
peritonseum, or glossy coat, which lines and lubricates all the 
internal organs, and allows them to slide upon each other without 
friction ; the middle coating composed of muscles laid trans- 
versely, and crossing each other in all directions, which con- 
tract upon its contents so as to give it the required motion ; 
and the inner, or mucous membrane, which is extremely deli- 
cate, and of a pale cream color when healthy. And this struc- 
ture pervades the whole intestinal canal. Nerves and blood- 
vessels alsd permeate all its parts ; the latter imparting vitality, 
and the former relating it to the whole nervous system, by 
which means the various states of the stomach control both 
the nervous system and mind. 

When a healthy stomach receives its food, this mucous 
membrane, or some glandular structure interwoven with it, 
empties into it a clear, tasteless liquid, resembling saliva in 
appearance, called the gastric juice, previously secreted so 
as to be in readiness. This fluid is a most powerful solvent, 
capable of reducing to a milky, homogeneous mass, called 
chyme, all those heterogeneous substances taken as food. It, 
as it were, sets free, or extracts, from food the carbon, fibrine, 
casseine, nitrogen, hydrogen, and other substances, electricity 
also probably included, which enter into the composition of 
food, and are required to support life. It even dissolves food 
out of the stomach, but not as quickly as in. Its solvent 
power, when the stomach is healthy, is most astonishing. 
Not to dwell on the wonderful gastric powers of some ani- 
mals — that East Indian bird which will swallow and digest 
even wood — man's solvent power is far greater, by nature, 
than any suppose. Some have swallowed knives, and digested 
their bone or horn handles. Is it not surprising that the stom- 
ach should bear up often a century under such continued 
abuse as even the most temperate daily heap upon it ? Take 
our own cases. How long, how often, and how outrageously, 
reader, have you abused your own digestion by eating too 
fast, and too much, and of unwholesome food, and yet it per- 
haps retains much of its pristine vigor. 

But such abuse ultimately weakens its solvent powers. 


This allows food to lay so long in the stomach, that its heat 
induces souring or fermentation, which aids its dissolution, and 
helps to relieve the stomach of its load. But mark ; this fer- 
mentation is nothing more nor less than incipient decomposi- 
tion, or, to call it by its true name, the commencement of the 
KOTTiNG process. To ferment is to putrefy. Nor is it pos- 
sible for food to sour in the stomach without engendering cor- 
ruption. Especially is this true of the fermentation of meat. 
All know how vast the amount of putrefaction eliminated by 
its decay out of the stomach. Fermentation .engenders the 
same in it. Is it then any wonder that dyspepsia, which con- 
sists simpl)' in the rotting of food, especially meat, in the hu- 
man stomach, should cause its victims to feel so wretchedly ? 
Is not here a powerful argument against meat eating, espe- 
cially when the stomach is not perfectly good ? Think of 
it ; meat actually putrefying in the center of the system, to be 
sent all through it ; literally frightful to contemplate ! And 
yet this very process is perpetually going on, in a greater or 
less degree, within the stomachs of all in the least afflicted by 
dyspepsia, and this class embraces the mass of Americans, as 
we shall show when we come to treat of this disease. This 
chymical fact, that the souring process is incipient rotting, 
together with the fact that the food of the great mass of our 
nation does thus ferment, developes the prolific cause of most 
of those chronic, malignant, and all other diseases which 
bring suffering and premature death on the mass of mankind. 
Men cannot, therefore, guard too carefully against all injury of 
this important organ. Its healthy and vigorous condition is 
indispensable to life and happiness. Its abuse is suffering and 
death. As starvation, by withholding nutrition, soon destroys 
life, so imperfect digestion proportionably impairs it. Dys- 
pepsia is partial starvation on the one hand, by withholding the 
materials of life, and death on the other, by engendering cor- 
ruption. Hence, whatever dyspeptics do or leave undone, they 
should first restore the flagging energies of their stomachs. 
The scholar who is impairing digestion by study, instead of 
disciplining his mind, is undisciplining it in the most effec* 
tual manner possible, and by that very study which otherwise 


would strengthen it, because stomachic diseases effectually 
prostrate the brain. Such should stop studying till they have 
effected a cure. And all, whoever they are, whose stomachs 
are strong, should make it their paramount business to keep 
them so, and if weak or disordered, to strengthen and heal 
them, and should give up or abstain from whatever impairs 
them. But more on this point hereafter. 

This gastric juice acts mainly upon the outside of the food 
eaten, thus evolving nourishment gradually — a provision of 
great practical utility. Otherwise we should be obliged to 
eat perpetually, which would be inconvenient, if not impossible 


Greatly facilitates digestion. That muscular coating of the 
stomach, already described, by contracting from all points 
upon the food, as it were churns it till it is dissolved. As 
the muscles of the gizzard of fowls contract upon their 
food so powerfully as to grind it by friction against the grg,vel 
stones mixed up with it,* so the muscles of the human stom- 
ach keep perpetually squeezing and whirling the food over 
and over, always one way. This motion all must have ob- 
served within themselves. In cases of heart-burn, which is 
caused by the souring process ^^, this rolling of the food is 
particularly observable in conjunction with the rising and 
burning caused by the inflammation of the stomach. 

This motion is involuntary, else we should be obliged to 
WILL it continually, which would be exceedingly inconvenient, 
as it must be perpetual, so that we could do little else. 
Breathing also greatly facilitates it. Every inspiration hauls 
down the stomach to make room for the ingress of air, and 
every expiration redoubles this motion by allowing it to return 
to its place. And as breathing is perpetual, so is this stomachic 
motion. This physiological principle condemns in unqualified 
terms all lashing down of the stomach, and girting between 
it and the lungs, which prevents this motion. Unless it had 

* Those who will bolt their food, like fowls, without chewing, should, 
.Ike them, eat gravel stones- to do the crushing teeth were created to 


been very important, nature would never have devised so 
effectual a means of securing it ; and those who arrest it by- 
tight lacing, do so at their peril. 

Nature still further facilitates this motion by those abdomi 
NAL muscles which pass up and down across the stomach and 
bowels, so that we cannot well move the body backwards, for- 
wards, sideways, any way, without using these muscles, and 
thus as it were kneading the stomach. This brings up for 


Such exercise is generally condemned, and a nooning 
recommended instead ; because two dogs fed alike, the one 
put upon the chase, the other allowed to rest, on being killed 
two hours and a half after feeding, in the former digestion 
was scarcely commenced, while in the other it was nearly 
completed. Violent exercise is undoubtedly injurious, because 
it robs the stomach of energy to supply the extra exactions of 
the muscles ; yet this does not condemn moderate exercise. 
Nor are we told whether the still dog laid down all the time, 
or ran around leisurely here and there, but only that he was 
not on the chase ; so that these cases fail of proving that we 
should " after dinner sit an hour." And since such sitting 
actually deprives the stomach of a part of that motion so in- 
dispensable to rapid and complete digestion, it is therefore 
positively injurious. Moderate exercise promotes, instead 
of retarding digestion, though fatiguing labor is of course 

" But," it is objected, " nature seeks rest after meals, and 
what she, unperverted, inclines us to do, is beneficial." But 
I doubt whether apathy after meals is natural. I even claim 
the converse. True, when we have overtasked the stomach, 
this organ withdraws energy from the muscles, brain, and 
wherever else it can obtain it, to enable it to discharge its 
burden, just as over-tasked muscles rob both stomach and 
brain, and an over-tasked brain robs all the rest of the system. 
Such robbery of organs not oppressed by those that are, is 
a physiological law of great practical utility. Nor is there a 


more certain sign of having over-eaten, than subsequent 
lethargy of mind, or indolence of body. The stomatic nerve 
robs the brain, or muscles, when thus overloaded. One func- 
tion was never made to interfere with or obstruct another, else 
nature would be at war with herself, which, let alone, she is 
not. On the other hand, all promote all. So far from its 
being a law of things that the stomach should retard the ac- 
tion of brain or muscle, it was created to facilitate both ; so 
that RIGHT eating will actually exhilarate instead of prostrat- 
ing all the other functions. I never take noonings. Children 
never do, but are generally more lively and playful after 
meals than before, but never more stupid ; and he who can- 
not take hold of labor with increased zest and strength, or 
study with greater success, after having eaten than before, 
has eaten too much. Eat exactly right — enough but not too 
much, of the right kind, and masticate well — and you can labor 
with augmented ease, and apply your mind with increased 
clearness and power after eating, and feel like doing instead 
of loitering. Food, like sleep, naturally refreshes and invig- 
orates; and unless it does so, is excessive in quantity or inju- 
rious in kind. This physiological law furnishes a sure crite- 
rion of the quantity of food required for the most perfect 
sustenance of body and mind, Yet when we have over-eaten, 
noonings and rest after meals are probably beneficial. 



No. 10. The Liver, Gall, Pancreas, and Kidneys. 

L the liver ' • ivned up to show its under side ; G gall-bladder ; P 
the pancreas ; K the kidneys ; S the spleen ; A the descending 
•aorta ; V V the ascending vena cava which carries venous blood to 
tile liver ; R the rectum ; B the bladder. 




80. CHYLE. 

The manufacture of good chyme by the stomach, so far 
from completing the digestive process, only begins it. It 
remains to be assorted — the nutritious from the innutritions 
portions ; for there is a refuse residuum in food, as of ashes in 
combustion. By what means, then, is this separation effected ? 

After the chyme has been admitted through the pyloric ori- 
fice into the duodenum, or second stomach — a long narrow- 
sack, composed, like the stomach proper, of the peritoneal, 
muscular, and mucous coatings— it there receives two secre- 
tions, one, called gall, from the liver,^^ and the other from the 
pancreas,^^ called the pancreatic juice. The gall is a liquid 
of a greenish color, and exceedingly bitter, secreted from the 
dark and venous blood while returning . back to the heart, 
about eight pounds flowing through the liver per minute. 
This bile is composed mainly of carbon, and this is one of the 
means by which the system relieves itself of surplus carbon. 
Hence those whose livers are weak should eat substances less 
highly carbonized, so that they may have less carbon to se- 
crete. They should also eat less food for the same reason- 
Animal food taxes the liver somewhat less than vegetable. 

Soda is also secreted from the venous blood, and contained 
in the bile, and, being required in the vital process, is taken 
up by the liver, and returned into the circulation, to take part 
in respiration — a most ingenious contrivance for supplying the 
system with the soda it requires. The gall thus secreted by 
the liver, is emptied from all parts of this glandular and po- 
rous organ into little ducts, and these continue to empty them- 
selves into larger and still larger ones, till they finally deposite 
the gall in a little sack called the gall-bladder,^^ from which it 
is carried by another duct into the duodenum. 


With the glandular structure and general mechanism of 
the liver most readers are doubtless familiar/* If not, they 
can obtain the required knowledge by observing and dissecting 
that of animals. 

The pancreas, or sweet bread, another long and tapering gland 
situated right under the stomach,''* secretes another fluid some- 
what resembling the saliva, which is conveyed by a trough- 
like duct which traverses it,^* into which a multitude of smaller 
ducts empty this fluid, into the duodenum. Of the precise 
nature of this juice little is known, only that it is indispensa- 
ble to chylification, and this to nutrition. 

These two fluids, commingling with the chyme, separate its 
nutritious from its innutritions portions, somewhat as runnet 
separates the whey and curd of milk from each other. The 
former is called chyle — a half-liquid grayish substance, close- 
ly resembling milk in appearance, laden with fibrine, carbon, 
nitrogen, oil, and other substances required to support life. 
In fact, its composition is almost identical with that of blood, 
and requires only contact with air to impart that red color and 
oxygen which constitute it blood proper. The importance of 
these two glandular secretions, shows how absolutely indis- 
pensable health of function in each is to human life, and the 
consequent evils of their abuse, and importance of their re- 
storation — of which hereafter. 

The chyle thus separated in the duodenum from the refuse 
portions of food, the two are urged along together into and 
through the intestines^* by that muscular or middle coating 
which surrounds the entire alimentary canal, arranged circu- 
larly and transversely, so that its action crowds its contents 
along irresistibly. This canal is some six or •eight times as 
long as its possessor is tall, and into it open a vast multitude 
of little mouths or suckers, called 


These chyle-drinkers, passing through the three outer coat- 
ings, open upon the inner surface of the mucous membrane, 
these being in a great number of folds, by which the surface, 
and of course power of function, of thi^ Canal is greatly in- 



No. 11. The STRUcruRE of the Intestines. 

AAA liver; E gall-bladder; M stomach; L cardiac orifice; 
V V pancreas ; P^ S S S S small intestines ; T termination of the 
small intestines, and commencement of the large one called the 
colon; T U the ascending colon; UU transverse colon, the seat 
of colicky pains ; U W descending colon ; X Y rectum. 


creased. These lacteals suck up the chyle as it is thus urged 
along over them, and, passing back^vard behind the intestines, 
and then through innumerable little glands called the messenta- 
ries ''^ empty themselves into larger, and these into still larger 
ducts, till they form one duct which passes up along inside the 
back-bone to near the neck, and empties its contents into the 
right subclavian vein, nearly under the right clavicle, or 
collar-bone, while the residuum, or waste portions of the food, 
are expelled along through the small intestines ^^ into the as- 
cending colon, which passes up on the right side of the abdo- 
men, then into the transverse colon, which runs along under 
the stomach, and thence into the descending colon, which 
passes down the left side of the abdomen into the rectum '^, 
from which it is expelled in the form of excrement. Blood- 
vessels also open into the alimentary canal, and when inflamed, 
as in dysentery, cholera, etc., discharge blood ; and hence the 
sudden weakening, and often death, they occasion. 

Behold this most ingenious system of instrumentalities em- 
ployed to manufacture food into blood, and load the blood with 
the elements requisite for sustaining life ! Yet even now the 
digestive process is by no means complete — only, as it were, 
begun. After the materials of life have thus been furnished, 
they must be worked up, else the human structure will be 
like the unused timber of a house or ship. How are th 
materials manufactured into life and happiness ? 






The chyle, thus richly freighted with these materials of 
life, is emptied into the blood ^^ With the looks and general 
nature of this porter of life, all are doubtless familiar. It is 
composed of two principal parts — serum, which rises to the 
top of fresh drawn blood when allowed to coagulate undis- 
turbed, which also contains albumen, and globules, which set- 
tle to the bottom and coagulate. It also contains fibrine ", 
which re-supply that waste of muscle and nerve consequent 
on their action^". The vivifying office of the blood and its 
essentiality to life, are too well known to require description. 
Drained of this messenger of life, how soon muscle, nerve, 
organ, faint and die ? 

But this blood must be circulated throughout the system 
in order to impart its vitality. Every organ, nerve, muscle, 
shred, and tissue of the entire physiology must be supplied 
with it perpetually or die. To secure this circulation, and 
also the requisite minuteness, nature has devised a circulatory 
apparatus of extraordinary power and efficiency, consisting of 
heart, arteries, capillaries, and veins. 


This organ is located at the top, and nearly in the middle 
of the chest, or between the shoulders, its apex pointing 
downwards and towards the left side, which, in common with 
the greater power of its left and lower portion, and greater 
proximity to the surface of the body, makes its beating more 
apparent further downwards and outwards than it really lays. 



It consists, in common with the stomach, of three coatings — 
a peritoneal, a muscular, and a villous, serous, or mucous. 
Indeed, this treble structure appertains to arteries and veins 
as well as to stomach and intestines, and each coating serves 
a kindred purpose '^. In the heart, however, this muscular 
coating is very large, so as to enable it to put forth the extra- 
ordinary contractile force required. 

It is divided into four chambers — two above, called auricles, 
the contraction of which draws in the blood ; and two called 
ventricles, which force it out. Nature has also divided it up 
and down, into right and left lobes, the right upper chamber, 
or right auricle, pumping in the blood by suction from the 
veins, and the right lower chamber, or right ventricle, forcing 
it out into the pulmonary or lung arteries and capillary struc- 
ture, while the left upper chamber, called the left auricle, 
withdraws, on the principle of the suction pump, the blood 
from the lungs, and empties it into the left lower chamber, 
called the left ventricle, the contraction of which upon it forces 
it into the arteries and throughout the system. 

This ever. acting organ contracts, in healthy adults, about 
seventy times per minute, or a little more than once per sec- 
ond, though slower or faster according to the general and tem- 
porary activity of the subject, often doubling this number, and 
forces out at each pulsation into both lungs and arteries some- 
where from two to three ounces of blood, according to its size 
and power ; so that as the blood weighs from twenty-five to 
thirty pounds, more or less, in different subjects, all the blood 
of the body passes through this organ and throughout the 
system about twenty-nine times per hour, or once in about 
two minutes. The heart, therefore, sends throughout the 
system nearly two hundred ounces every minute, or some 
seven hundred pints per hour, and above eight tuns every 
twenty-four hours. Think what tremendous power is required 
to withdraw from the veins, pump into the lungs, withdraw 
from the pulmonary veins, and then send round the system — 
thus handling these eight tuns four times over, equal to im- 
parting motion to above thirty tuns diurnally — these eight 
tuns of blood f And to impart so much force as to send it 




No. 12. The Heart. 


«, the left ventricle ; h, the right ventricle ; c ef, the aorta, 
the great artery that goes off from the left ventricle ; g Jcij 
the arteries that are sent from the arch of the aorta; k, the 
pulmonary artery, that goes from the right ventricle to the 
lungs ; I I, branches of the pulmonary artery, going to the two 
sides of the lungs ; 7n m, the pulmonary veins, which bring the 
blood back from the lungs to the left side of the heart ; n, the 
right auj-icle ; o, the ascending vena cava ; q, the descending : 
these two meet, and by their union form the right auricle ; jp, 
the veins from the liver, spleen, and bowels ; s, the left coro- 
nary artery, one of the arteries which nourish the heart.* 


throbbing and rushing throughout the entire body, and into all 
those minute capillary vessels through which it passes ! Hov/ 
little do we realize either the amount of power this organ puts 
forth or the good it effects ! 

To inspect still more closely this mighty pumping machine 
and its mode of action ; the two upper chambers, or auri- 
cles, contract upon the blood they contain at the same time, 
thereby bracing and balancing each other. Their contraction 
produces a vacuum into which blood is again propelled by the 
contractile action of the veins, and the pressure of the atmo- 
sphere and muscles upon them. The two ventricles, or lower 
chambers, also contract together, thus also bracing each other, 
at the same time forcing the blood, the right into the lungs, (l) 
and the left into the arteries {g, h, i.) By this means time for 
rest is allowed the Jieart, the two auricles taking a short nap — 
and a very short one it is too — while the ventricles contract, 
and the latter going to sleep, and waking up again, while the 
auricles contract — thus all its parts getting tired, and taking 
rest as quickly and as often as the heart beats. The heart 
must have rest as much as the muscles and nerves. Yet if, 
like the muscles, it required six or seven hours of successive 
sleep, death would inevitably supervene. Behold the sim- 
plicity yet efficiency of this arrangement for securing time to 
the heart to rest without suspending life ! 

We have said that the muscles, or walls of the heart, are 
thick, large, and strong. Some of its chambers, the ventri- 
cles, are much more so than the auricles, because they have 
more to do. The auricles have only to pump the blood in by 
suction from the veins and lungs, or rather to empty it out of 
themselves right into the ventricles, so that it may run in till 
it again fills them up and causes spontaneous contraction, 
while the ventricles have to pump it out, the right throughout 
the lungs, and the left throughout the body. The office of the 
ventricles being so much more laborious than that of the auri- 
cles, they are much the larger, and the left ventricle is by far 
the largest and strongest of all, because it has to force out 
the blood with sufficient impetus to drive it not only into all 
the extremities of the system but also throughout the incon- 


ceivably minute blood-vessels of those extremities. The 
reader may comprehend and fix this circulatory process 
effectually in his mind by remembering — 

1. That the right side of the heart, auricle and ventricle, 
have to do wholly with the dark or venous blood, and the left 
with arterial or red blood. 

2. That the two auricles, or upper chambers, draw the 
blood into the heart and empty it into the two ventricles, or 
lower chambers which drive it — the right into the lungs, and 
the left throughout the system. Or thus : — 

3. That the right upper chamber withdraws by suction the 
blood from the veins, and empties it into the right lower 
chamber, which, contracting upon it, forces it into the lungs, (I) 
while the left upper chamber, or auricle, withdraws it from the 
lungs and empties it into the left lower chamber, or ventricle, 
which propels it throughout the system. 

I say "draws in." You ask now, as the blood is not a 
rope so that the further end cannot be pulled in by drawing 
in the other. How withdraws ? Just as water is sucked up 
out of the well into the pump, and up that pump to that valve 
which carries it still higher. The heart is in every respect a 
self-acting forcing pump. As the working of the pump cre- 
ates a vacuum into which the pressure of the atmosphere on 
the top of the well, which is sufficient to lift an unobstructed 
column thirty-two feet, forces the water till it is again full, 
so the contraction of the right auricle of the heart upon the 
blood it contains, forces out that blood into the right ventricle, 
and thus creates a vacuum into which the pressure of the at- 
mosphere upon the surface of the body, and of course upon 
the veins, together with the contractile power of the veins, 
and the pressure of the muscles upon theui, propel the blood 
along into these auricles. And just as the water in the pump 
above the valve is forced up and out, so the right ventricle 
pumps the blood into the lungs, to be withdrawn again from 
them by that same principle of suction just described. But 
for this external pressure of the atmosphere upon the veins, 
they would burst, strong as they are, and but "for this internal 
pressure, the external would be sufficient to press the walls 


of the veins so closely together as effectually to shut them up. 
If asked, why the contraction of the heart does not propel the 
blood both ways — backwards as well as forwards — the answer 
is, that it is constructed with valves, which close the instant 
the blood begins to go backwards, and thus stop its return. 
In and by its very attempt to return, it shuts the door in its 
own face. It must go forwards, or stand still. Nature al- 
lows no back-water in any part of the circulating system. 

We may next be expected to follow the blood through the 
arterial and capillary system, in the latter of which it expends 
it6 energies ; but, preferring to follow the order of nature — 
to show whence the blood obtains its freight — before we 
show where and how it deposits it, our subject brings us next 
to consider — 




The fibrine, carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, iron, and other sub- 
stances which the blood derives from food, constitutes hardly 
half its freight. True, life cannot proceed without them; 
nor can it with them alone. We must eat ; we must also 
BREATHE. And the elements furnished to the blood by breath- 
ing are even more, and more perpetually, indispensable to life 
than those derived from digestion, because we can live longer 
without the latter than the former. Starvation is terrible, and 
soon fatal, but suffocation is worse, and dispatches its victim a 
hundred-fold more quickly and certainly. Indeed, mankind 
can live but a few minutes — from five to eight — without 
breath ; and those die the soonest when deprived of it who are 
the most active. Thus, the slow moulded Malay can stay 
under water from seven to eight minutes, and then rise, 
whereas the more active Caucasian suffocates if he remains 
under five or six minutes — the difference being one quarter 
in favor of the sluggish, and for this reason — tke more ac- 


tive the subject the more rapidly he consumes the energies 
derived from breath as well as from food, and therefore the 
more frequent and copious must be this re-supply. The faster' 
*'e live, the more and oftener we must breathe. As the 
snake, frog, alligator, and other cold-blooded, sluggish animals, 
can live a long time without breath, especially while torpid, 
so the more stupid the human animal the less breath he re- 
quires. Hence, ability to hold the breath a great length of 
time is a poor recommendation. 

Breathing thins the blood so that it circulates, and the rea- 
son why the absence of breath suffocates, is that it allows the 
blood to become too thick to circulate. Let the reader notice 
his own pulsations — their rapidity and power — when he 
breathes fully, compared with them when he holds his breath, 
and he will find them weaker and less frequent the longer he 
holds it, till it ceases to flow, soon after which life takes its 

Those whose circulation is not good— =whose hands and 
feet are often cold, veins blue, and health none the best, will 
observe that inspiration gives a sudden start to pulsation, both 
hurrying it and increasing its power, but while they are 
expiring their breath, the heart beats both more slowly and 

But why dwell upon the importance of respiration ? All 
know how indispensable a constant supply of breath is to life. 
Nor can words compare with the experience of every reader 
in enforcing its importance. 

But WHY important ? What precise end in the vital process 
does breath subserve ? What does it do for the blood and the 
animal ? It thins the blood, but how, and what for ? 


The vital process requires large and perpetually renewed 
quantities of oxygen. Without it, all the materials of life 
furnished by digestion would be of no avail. They are the 
timber and the tools of the vital process, while oxygen is the 
master workman — the grand motive power of the animal 
economy, indeed, of universal nature. The vital process 




No. 13. 


a, the trachea, or windpipe. 
&, its branch to the right and left lung. 
c cc, the three lobes which compose each lung. 
6 e e, the air cells of the lungs dissected. 
(/, the pulmonary arteries, or entrance and egress of the 
blood from and to the heart. 


closely resembles combustion, of which oxygen is one great 
agent and instigator. As fire goes down with the scarcity of 
oxygen, and goes out with and in consequence of its disap- 
pearance, so the fire of life wanes in proportion as the supply 
of oxygen is diminished, and death supervenes almost imme- 
diately upon, and in consequence of its disappearance. It is 
this imperious demand of the system for oxygen which ren- 
ders the requisition for breath so absolute, and its suspension 
so soon fatal. A demand for breath and oxygen thus impe- 
rious was not made in vain, but their office is as important as 
their demand is absolute, else it would be capricious. God 
never trifles. 

Oxygen being thus essential to life, from what source is it 
obtained ? From breath. Air always contains it — indeed, is 
composed of twenty-one parts of oxygen and seventy-eight 
nitrogen, the other hundreth being carbonic acid gas, and 
going to support vegetation. Air, wherever found and under 
all circumstances, is composed of these substances always in 
the same proportion. Any variation destroys it, or makes it 
into something else. 

Adapted to this demand for oxygen, air abounds wherever 
man can go, unless artificially excluded. Being highly 
flexible, it can penetrate the least possible crevice, and even 
what we call solid substances. It not only surrounds the 
earth, extending some forty-two miles — probably many more — 
above it in all directions, but its great heaviness presses with 
immense weight upon every part of the surface of the body. 
Its quantity is, therefore, as illimitable as its demand is impe- 
rious. But, this oxygen being in the air, how is it introduced 
into the system ? 


Are the production of a vacuum by means of the contrac- 
tion of the diaphram, a thin, broad, and long muscle, located 
between the heart and lungs above, and the liver, stomach, 
pancreas, and abdominal organs below, attached across the 
back posteriorly, and to the abdominal muscles anteriorly, 
(as seen in d d of the engraving on the foregoing page,) 


the contraction of which hauls down all the organs below it, 
thus producing a partial vacuum into which the great weight 
of the atmosphere, everywhere pressing into every accessible 
nook and corner, crowds the air nearest the mouth and nose 
and thus inflates the lungs. By an arrangement of muscles 
stationed between the ribs, called intercostal, the ribs are 
hauled up, and thus thrown outwardly, hence that heaving 
and swelling motion of the chest seen in breathing, so as to 
increase this cavity and allow a still greater influx of air. 
Air is neither stringy nor ropy, and cannot, therefore, be 
pulled or sucked into the lungs, for we have no means of get- 
ting hold of it to draw it in. All we care or need to do is to 
make that opening for it caused by hauling down the abdomi- 
nal organs and heavin.^ out the ribs. The air itself does, the 
rest by running into the lungs spontaneously ; or rather, the 
pressure of the atmosphere is so great as to crowd that portion of 
air next the mouth and nose into this partial vacuum created by 
the diaphram and intercostal muscles, the relaxing of which, 
and consequent letting up of the stomach and bowels, and 
letting down of the ribs, fills it up and thus expels the air, 
notwithstanding the resistance of that immense pressure of the 
atmosphere which forced it in. Yet the lungs do not empty 
out all the air, else they would collapse, as they sometimes do 
in crying children, so as to prevent inflation, the remedy of 
which is, to hold them up by the heels, head downwards. 


The lungs are those two spongy lobes in the upper part of 
the chest which surround the heart, and together with the 
latter, fill up most of the cavity formed by the ribs. They 
consist of a very thin and light membrane, permeated by two 
sets of tubes, one set formed by the branching and re-branch- 
ing almost to infinity, of the trachea, or wind-pipe, till their 
porous structure becomes too small to be traced with the eye, 
even when aided by the most powerful magnifying-glasses 
yet invented. The other set of tubes is formed by the 
branching and re-branching to the same degree of capillary 
minuteness of the pulmonary arteries and veins — those ducts 



No. 14. The Lungs and Stomaci. 

The letters R L and L L mark the right and ItLt lungs, with 
the heart H lying between them, but chiefly on the left side. V 
is not a very accurate representation of the largo blood-vessels 
going to the head, neck, and superior extremities. Liv^ is the 
liver, lying in the abdomen, or beliy, and separated from the chest 
by the arched fleshy partition D D, called the diaphragm, or mid- 
rifl". The stomach appears on the other side, marked Stm., but 
both it and the liver are removed a little from their natural situa- 
tion. G is the gall-bladder. Ill are the various parts of the in- 
testinal canal, through which the food is passed on its way from the 
stomach, by means of what is called the peristaltic or vermicular 
motion of the bowels, one circle of fibres narrowing after another, 
so as to propel its contents slowly but steadily, and resembling, in 
some degree, the condition of a common worm. 


which convey the blood from the heart to the lungs and back 
again. Only a very thin, though tough membrane separates 
between these capillary air-cells and blood-cells, yet so minute 
are its ramifications, that an ordinary sized pair of lungs con- 
tain, or has folded up in them, a surface of about twenty thou- 
sand square inches ! Nature is a great economist in everything, 
space included, and by this folding up of the membranes, of 
the lungs it is, that she contrives to present so large an amount 
of fcurface in so small a compass — a contrivance akin to that 
by v,hich she has folded up the intestinal canal ^^ and still fur- 
rier folded its mucous surface so that a great amount of surface 
may be contained within a small compass. But for this folding 
arrangement, the size of the lungs must have been immense ; 
just as, but for the similar folding structure of the intestines, 
mankind must have been six or eight times taller for the same 
weight than now. 

The end attained by this plating structure is, that a large 
surface may be provided for the juxta-position of the air in 
in the air-cells, side by side with the blood in the blood-cells. 
The right lung is somewhat larger than the left, and the two 
envelope the heart so that this juxta-position may facilitate 
their combined functions. 

We thus see in what manner the air, and of course the 
oxygen of the air, is brought alongside of the blood, only a 
thin membrane separating them. Yet this membrane, while 
it prevents the blood from escaping except when ruptured, does 
not intercept the passage of oxygen, a gas more subtle than 
the air itself, so that it can pass in through this membrane, 
while blood cannot pass out through it, nor air pass in through 
it to the body. 


All this done, by what means is the oxygen induced, or 
coaxed through this membrane so as to unite with and vital- 
ize the blood ? But for some means of effecting this object, 
blood and air might lay side by side on a surface of twenty 
millions of inches instead of twenty thousand, and forever, 
instead of a few seconds, without the required passage of the 


oxygen- — this indispensable ingredient of life — from the air 
which it loves, and from which it is loth to part — even cannot 
part without destroying the nature of that air — into the blood. 
How then, is the blood oxygenated ? As follows. 

The globules of the blood contain iron so plentifully, that 
many of the French nobility are now wearing rings made 
from the iron extracted from the blood of their friends, for the 
same keepsake purpose for which we wear rings inclosing a 
lock of our friend's hair. Now, though the oxygen of the air 
loves its mate, nitrogen, right well, yet it loves iron better, so 
that when the oxygen contained in the air in the lungs is 
brought alongside of the iron contained in the blood of the 
lungs, the two, loving each other devotedly, rush into each 
others arms ; but the blood being unable to pass through this 
membrane which separates them, while the oxygen is able to 
do so, the oxygen leaves its mated nitrogen, and elopes with 
the iron into the blood, changes that blood from its dark 
venous, to a bright red color, thins it, and inspirits it with life and 
action, so that it is now all prancing with vitality, eager to be 
sent throughout the system on its mission of life. We say the 
oxygen in the air rushes into the arms of the iron in the blood ; 
and as the powerful Achilles having seized the beautiful Helen, 
carried her off from Troy, so the iron of the blood, having loaded 
itself with all the oxygen it can carry off, employs the heart 
as its coach-and-four, to transport its new bride through the 
arteries into the capillary system, there to deposits this instru- 
mentality of heat. 

That oxygen is thus transferred from the air in the 
lungs into the blood, is rendered certain by the fact that when 
air is inspired, it contains 21 per cent, of oxygen, while ex- 
pired air contains only 12 per cent. ; it having lost nine 
per cent, of its oxygen, but none of its nitrogen. Not till 
thus supplied with oxygen, is the blood completely freighted 
with the materials of life. Though it had previously derived 
from food fibrine, bone, hydrogen, nitrogen, carbon, etc.*^ 
yet they were of no avail until it could add to its cargo this 
grand moving principle of the animal economy '®. That oxy- 
gen thus obtained, goes frothing, and rushing, and bounding 


on its life-imparting mission. What now takes place ? 
How are these materials deposited ? And what end do they, 
especially oxygen, subserve in the animal economy ? The 
produ'^+'on of 


To effectually and thoroughly heat up the body and all its 
parts, is one of the first and most essential objects to be pro- 
vided for. It so is, that a high temperature is indispensable 
to the vital process. Life, except in some of the lower, and 
cold-blooded species, cannot proceed except at a temperature 
far above that of surrounding objects. Though a snake may 
be frozen, so as to snap when bent like a pipe-stem and still live, 
yet man soon dies unless all parts of him are kept heated up to 
about 98° Fahrenheit — a temperature rarely reached by the at- 
mosphere in the hottest climates in the hottest days in summer. 
And this temperature of the healthy human body is always 
about the same in summer and in winter ; under the tropical 
sun of the torrid zone, and among " Greenland's icy mount- 
ains" ; though in children it is a little higher, about 102'^ to 
103°, and in the aged, a little lower than 98°-; yet never 
varying, whoever or wherever the subjects, over five or six 
degrees above 98°, or two or three below it, without arresting 

The far greater heat of the body than of surrounding ob. 
jects, is a matter of perpetual observation by us, the coldness 
of stones, iron, ice, etc., furnishing samples. Even in sum- 
mer this difference is great, as known by laying the hand on 
a corpse after it has become cold, that is, has sunk to the tem- 
perature of surrounding air and objects. 

Of course the body, thus heated up so much above sur- 
rounding bodies, is constantly giving off caloric, in harmony 
with the universal tendency of heat to seek an equilibrium, 
just as a hot brick or iron between two cold ones naturally 
gives off its heat to the others, till all become equal in tem- 
perature. The amount of heat given off by the human sub- 
ject every hour and minute is, therefore, very great, as expe- 
rience proves it to be. 


But the re-supply must be equally great, else a permanent 
cooling would take place, and of course death would super, 
vene. And this re-supply must be furnished to all parts of 
the body. Nor merely to the outside, but internally as well 
as externally. Where does this re-supply take place ? In 


Though the blood undoubtedly gives off some of its life 
materials in the arteries, thus promoting its circulation, yet it 
expends most of its renewing energy in the capillary network 
of the blood-vessels. That capillary or hair-fine structure 
which appertains to the lungs, has already been noted ^^ It 
appertains equally to the blood-vessels. The arteries which 
come off from the heart are large, but branch off, again and 
again, till they become too small to be followed with the naked 
eye. A powerful microscope enables us to follow them into 
ramifications still more minute. But all the optical aid yet 
devised, cannot trace them out to their almost infinitely minute 
ramifications — so minute and so perfectly ramified, that the 
point of the finest needle cannot be inserted, however care- 
fully, into the flesh without puncturing some of them, besides 
all its displaces. In this capillary structure it is that the 
blood yields its vitality to the system. Yields what ? how 
yields ? Its yield of those materials which form bone, mus- 
cle, nerve, organ, etc., is not now up for discussion. But 
the means by which nature re-supplies the required heat, and 
sustains the required temperature of the system being upon 
the tapis, how is it effected ? By the mutual 


Of the oxygen in the blood derived from the breath, with 
the carbon in the blood derived from food. Nowhere in na- 
ture is heat produced except by some form of combustion ; 
nor need we regard animal heat as an exception. And the 
more so, since chymistry assures us that these two gases, car- 
bon and oxygen, have a strong affinity for each other — the 
affinity of oxygen for carbon being even greater than of oxy- 


gen for iron — so that when forced into close contact with 
each other, in this capillary system of the blood-vessels, they 
BURN EACH OTHER UP by Creating spontaneous combustion, the 
result of course being heat, so that this system is heated up 
much as we heat a room. Wood — all that can be burnt 
— contains a large proportion of carbon, and hence its forma- 
tion of charcoal, which is almost all carbon. Add a little fire 
to start with, and then blow a current of air upon the fire, 
and the oxygen of the air combining with the carbon of the 
wood produces combustion and evolves heat. But the carbon 
in the blood being unencumbered, free, and very abundant, 
and thus of the oxygen, there is no need of fire to start 
with. They burn without it. They burn each other up 
SPONTANEOUSLY. " It whlssles ITSELF." ^^ Thus is engen- 
dered that immense amount of animal heat within the system 
which re-supplies that given off by the cooling process just 
explained, and the body, together with all its parts, internal 
and external, kept at that elevated temperature necessary for 
the maintenance of life. 

What next ? As the combustion of wood forms smoke and 
ashes, so that of these two gases might be expected to deposite 
a like substance. And so far we find it does. And the ashes, 
or rather coals, of this internal combustion, chymically ana- 
lyzed, are almost identical in their chymical compounds with 
charcoal, the residuum of burnt wood, both being composed 
mainly of 


The blood, immediately on this combustion of its oxygen, 
which gives it its bright red color, assumes a dark, livid hue, 
resembling in kind the color of charcoal, though not as dark, 
because containing less carbon. Combustion can never take 
place, out of the system or in, without creating this acid ; 
and that process of combustion just explained, by which the 
system is heated, forms sonie ten or twelve ounces of carbonic 
acid per day. This substance is hostile to life, and exceed- 
ingly poisonous, as seen when inhaled in a tight room in 
in which charcoal is consuming. Its superabundance is fatal 


to life. Hence, unless some means were devised for trans- 
porting it from all parts of the system where this combustion 
creates it, those parts must die. How is the system cleared 
of this foe ? 

By the iron in the blood. That iron first made love, in the 
lungs, to the oxygen, also in the lungs, and wooed her to leave 
her husband, the nitrogen of the air, and run away with him, 
which she, faithless one, gladly seconded^®. But no sooner 
has she been brought in close proximity, in the capillary 
blood-vessels, with the carbon also in the blood, than she finds 
another paramour in carbon, which she loves still better. 
Carbon reciprocates this love ; when, jilting her iron para- 
mour, she rushes into the arms of this charcoal paramour so 
ardently, that they consume each other, and die of excess of 
love, leaving only their burnt carcasses in the form of carbonic 

The iron of the blood thus left desolate — good enough for 
him — he runs away with oxygen, the wife of the nitrogen 
of the air, and carbon served him just right to run away 
with his stolen wife — by way of making the best of his de- 
sertion, proffers his hand to this carbonic acid, is accepted, 
concludes the union, and, being a great traveller, take his new 
bride along back with him by slow and leisurely movements 
to the lungs. This union, not being extra cordial, this car- 
bonic acid finds in the nitrogen of the air in the lungs a much 
more agreeable companion than in the iron, and, quitting the 
iron, rushes through this gauze membrane of the lungs ^^, 
combines with this nitrogen, and is brought out of its pent-up 
inclosure into the wide world, again to enter into the formation 
of vegetables and food. 

Nor is the iron sorry on account of this desertion, because 
he has found a new supply of oxygen which he likes far 
better than carbonic acid. Or thus. The nitrogen in the 
air, and the iron in the blood mutually agree to swap wives, 
each liking the other's wife better than nis own, and as these 
wives both love each other's husbands better than their own, 
they "jump at'^ the proposed exchange. This series of faith- 
less desertions on the one hand, and of runaway -matches on 


the other, accomplishes that grand system of heating up the 
system so comfortable in itself and so indispensable to life — a 
means as ingenious as the end attained is indispensable. By 
these means, the system guards itself against the otherwise 
fatal consequences of those sudden and extreme changes of 
the atmosphere from heat to cold — is prevented from freezing 
on the one hand, and from burning on the other, and always 
kept at the required temperature. 

This shows us what the primary office of respiration is — 
the generation of animal heat. It also shows that one of 
the principal offices of digestion, is the subserviency of this 
same end — heat manufacturing. 

Philosophical reader, you who love to trace out the relations 
of cause and effect, say whether these combinations, evolu- 
tions, and re- combinations are not beautiful in the highest pos- 
sible degree. And do they not go far towards explaining the 
instrumentalities by which life takes place ? This wonder- 
ful process, thus far considered an unfathomable mystery, the 
very attempt to solve which has been considered blasphemy, 
bids fair to be brought within the range of scientific investi- 
gation. That great philosopher Liebig has put us upon the 
track, and thus opened a new and most delightful field of phi- 
losophical research.* 


Thus generated, is given by Liebig as follows : — 

" According to the experiments of Despretz, 1 oz. of carbon 
evolves, during its combustion, as much heat as would raise the 
temperature of 105 oz. of water at 32" to 167°, that is, by 135 de- 
grees; in all, therefore, 105 times 135''=14207 degrees of heat. 
Consequently, the 13-9 oz. of carbon which are daily converted 
into carbonic acid in the body of an adult, evolve 13'9X14207''= 
197477-3 degrees of heat. This amount of heat is sufficient to 
raise the temperature of 1 oz. of water by that number of degrees, 
or from 32° to 197509-3°; or to cause 136-8 lbs. of water at 32° to 
boil ; or to heat 370 lbs. of water to 98-3° (the temperature of the 
human body ;) or to convert into vapor 24 lbs. of water at 98-3°. 

* See this whole process incontestibly proved and fully illustrated, in 
his Animal Chemistiy. 


" If we now assume that the quantity of water vaporized through 
the skin and lungs in 24 hours amounts to 48 oz. (3 lbs.,) then 
there will remain, after deducting the necessary amount of heat, 
146380-4 degrees of heat, which are dissipated by radiation by 
heating the expired air, and in the excrementitious matters. 

" Jn this calculation, no account has been taken of the heat evolved 
by the hydrogen of the food, during its conversion into water by 
oxydation within the body. But if we consider that the specific 
heat of the bones, of fat, and of the organs generally, is far less 
than that of water, and that consequently they require, in order to 
be heated to 98-3°, much less heat than an equal weight of water, 
no doubt can be entertained, that when all the concomitant circum- 
stances are included in the calculation, the heat evolved in the pro- 
cess of combustion, to which the food is subjected in the body, is 
amply sufficient to explain the constant temperature of the body, 
as well as the evaporation from the skin and lungs." 

This combustion of carbon and oxygen is not, however, 
the only source of animal heat. Food contains hydrogen 
which is also received into the blood. This hydrogen has 
also a strong affinity for oxygen, and combining with it, forms 
water. The author has seen — many readers have, doubtless, 
witnessed — the formation of water by the burning together, in 
a certain fixed proportion, of these two gases. A kindred 
junction takes place in all parts of the system, and this pro- 
cess both enhances the amount of animal heat, and creates the 
materials for perspiration, of which soon. This brings up for 


As the temperature of the atmosphere is exceedingly change- 
able, sometimes 105° Fahrenheit, and again 40° below ; and, 
as the colder it is, the more rapidly this heat passes off from 
the body, some means must be contrived for manufacturing 
the more heat the colder it is ; and the less the warmer, so 
as to keep the body just warm enough and none too warm. 
This is effected by a self-acting instrumentality as simple as 
it is efficient, as follows : — The colder it is, the more dense 
the atmosphere ; that is, the greater the quantity of both oxy- 
gen and nitrogen it contains in any given bulk. Flence, sup- 
posing a male subject inhales at each respiration, about three 
pints of air, as is generally estimated, he of course inhales 


a much greater amount of oxygen in cold weather than in 
warm, and the more the colder — ^just when he needs the more 
to keep him warm, but the less in summer when he gives off 
less heat. So that in and by the very changes of the atmo- 
sphere from warm to cold, is provision made for increasing the 
combustion of oxygen and the generation of heat within the 
system. The perfectly healthy subject, therefore, needs much 
less artificial or external fire in winter than is generally sup- 
posed, because nature has provided an increased supply of 
fuel in proportion to the increased demand. But we shall 
recur to this subject again when we come to treat of clothing. 


This principle of animal heat also shows why we require 
more food, and that more highly carbonized, in winter than in 
summer. As a given amount of oxygen, say the 1400 cubic 
inches per hour, estimated as consumed by a healthy adult — 
though this amount varies more than half in different subjects, 
accordingly as their lungs are larger or smaller, active or 
sluggish, so that all such estimates are of little worth — can 
burn up only its equivalent, that is, a fixed proportion of car- 
bon, and as this supply of oxygen is much greater the colder 
the weather, of course the corresponding re- supply of carbon 
to be derived from food must be proportionally increased. 
And so it is. Appetite is almost always greater in cold 
weather, than in warm. And also appetite for more 
highly carbonized kinds of food. Thus the fat of meat 
which consists of 79 per cent., or nearly four-fifths carbon, 
relishes much better in winter than in summer. So do but- 
ter, honey, various oils, nuts, and the like. Hence the Esqui- 
maux can drink down gallons of train-oil, and eat from ten to 
fifty pounds of meat per day, or fourteen pounds of candles 
at a meal, without injury ^^ ; indeed, cannot live without an im- 
mense consumption of carbon. The great condensation of 
the air consequent on extreme cold, allows him to inhale pro- 
portionate quantities of oxygen, to burn up which, he must 
have this great supply of carbon. We should, therefore, eat 
more in cold weather than in warm, and food richer in carbon. 

1*70 RESPIRATION. ". , 

This brings up our unfinished argument about 


The advocates of a flesh diet claim that meat is indispensable, 
at least in winter, to supply this increased demand for carbon. 
The premises are granted that we need more carbon, and of 
course food more highly charged with carbon, in winter than 
in summer. Yet their argument is completely overthrown by 
the fact that vegetable food contains, in the aggregate, a-s 
much carbon as animal. Thus roasted flesh contains only 52 
per cent, of carbon, while eggs contain 53, and bees- wax 81. 
This shows why some relish bees-wax, namely, for its car- 
bon. The albumen of wheat contains 55 per cent, and of 
almonds 57 of carbon. Starch contains 44 per cent., and 
the amount of carbon contained in four pounds of starch 
equals that contained in thirteen pounds of meat. Indian corn 
contains a great amount of carbon, so does molasses. In fact, 
abstract the water from molasses, and the remainder is car- 
bon ; so that molasses and Indian meal furnish an excellent 
winter diet. So do bread and molasses. All vegetable oils 
are composed of about four-fifths of carbon, and as drop after 
drop of this oil can be pressed out of a walnut, or butternut, 
of course these nuts furnish a far greater proportion of carbon 
than lean meat. Why not, then, seek in nuts and vegetable 
oils the carbon, to obtain which you say we must eat meat ? 
That is, why not eat nuts in place of meat ? Chesnuts should 
be boiled, and other nuts well cured, yet they were undoubtedly 
created to subserve the purposes of food, and should form a 
part of our regular winter meals. Nor are nuts inferior to 
butter as a relish with bread. Sugar, and sweets generally, 
contain from 40 to 45 per cent, of carbon, according to how 
dry or wet they are, the balance being water. Hence, also, as 
their water is easily taken up by the stomach, they may justly 
be considered as nearly all carbon. Hence, as fat is nearly 
all carbon, all the slaves, animals, and even dogs on the 
sugar plantations, become fat while making sugar. That is, 
almost the entire solid matter of sweets, when their water is 
dried out, is carbon. Nearly the whole of honey, after its 


water has been abstracted, is carbon. Olives, and olive-oil 
also contain it, especially the latter, in far greater proportion 
than meat. We do not, therefore, need to go to the animal 
kingdom for carbon, when we can obtain it, in forms much 
more concentrated, from the vegetable. True, we can obtain 
it from meat, especially fat meat, yet this very fat is a state of 
disease, caused by a superabundance of carbon ; whereas, 
health requires fixed proportions of oxygen to burn it up. To 
fatten well, animals must be lazy ; and does not this exces- 
sive stuffing on the one hand, and deficient exercise on the 
other, engender disease ? Yet in vegetables we obtain all the 
carbon we require without any of the evils of meat-eating 
37 to 49^ Then why seek that carbon in diseased flesh — flesh 
cannot become fat but by becoming diseased — which we can 
obtain from vegetable diet in greater abundance, and in a 
healthy state ? 

The sufficiency of vegetables for winter food is still farther 
established by the fact that horses, cattle, and even reindeer — 
all graminivora — are kept abundantly warm by their natural 
diet, though they inhabit regions quite as cold as any of the 
carnivora. Indeed the latter are more abundant, relatively, 
in the torrid zone — a fact which tears this winter meat-eating 
argument in tatters. If meat is so conducive to animal heat 
and life, why are lions, tigers, etc., confined to warm climates ? 
As oats keep the horse abundantly warm, why not oatmeal 
keep man warm enough in winter ? Ask the Highland Scotch 
from time immemorial, if their oat-meal cakes and gruel 
have not kept them warm enough to camp out even in winter, 
with snow for their pillow and blanket. Thus is this meat- 
eating argument completely routed in every aspect. 

But the great trouble of civilized life, is, not to get carbon 
enough, but to get little enough. This is especially true of 
the sedentary. They breathe but little, because they exer- 
cise little, and because they live mostly in heated rooms, where 
the air is both rarefied and vitiated. Hence they take in but 
little oxygen, and therefore require but little carbon to burn 
it up. Yet such eat, and keep eating, as heartily as out-door 
laborers, and often more so ; thus taking in great quantities of 


carbon while they consume but little. Hence their dyspeptic 
and other difficulties. No ; few, if any, require more carbon 
than they now obtain, even in winter ; whereas ninety-nine in 
every hundred would be benefitted by lessening the quantity 
one half, especially in summer. Its superabundance is the 
great cause of disease, of which fasting, less highly carbon- 
ized food and more oxygen, are the remedies. All who feel 
better when cold weather sets in, superabound in carbon, and 
by taking less of it in food would be cured by the cold. 
But that very cold which brings their relief sharpens up ap- 
petite, and they take still more carbon ; thus keeping up both 
its superabundance and their disease ; whereas, if they would 
not increase such quantity, meanwhile breathing freely so as 
to burn up its surplus, they would obtain permanent health. 
And such, in fact all, to be healthy, must diminish the quan- 
tity of carbon taken in food in spring, compared with winter. 
The great cause of the prevalence of diseases in the spring, is 
to be found in our eating as much carbon then as in winter ; 
whereas we burn out, and therefore require, far less. And one 
of the great instrumentalities of health is to be found in grad- 
uating the amount of carbon received from food in proportion 
to that of oxygen inspired from breath. But as the principle 
here involved that we should take less food, and that less 
highly carbonated in warm weather, and when sitting by the 
fire in cold, than when abroad in cold weather, is before the 
reader, and as we shall in due time develope that fundamental 
condition of health — balance — we dismiss this subject of ani- 
mal heat for the kindred one of the 


Oxygen being indispensable to life^®, and being derived 
mainly from the air^^, the necessity for constant and copious 
re-supplies of fresh and well oxygenated air becomes obvious. 
And to this, the perpetual experience of every human being 
bears ample testimony. How dull and stupid we all feel after 
sitting a while in a hot room, especially if heated by an air- 
tight stove — an article I would never sit by if I could help it, 
because while it rarefies the air so that we can breathe but 


little oxygen even if the air were fresh, it prevents its circu- 
lation in the room, so that we soon breathe out most that re- 
mains. Hence the accompanying stagnation of the blood, 
and lethargy of body and mind. But start out into the fresh 
air, and how differently you feel ! How lively your body ! 
How brisk all your feelings I How clear the mind ! How 
happy the whole man ! Every human being ought to spend 
several hours every day, cold or warm, in the open air, 
coupled with much bodily activity. Four hours of out-door 
breathing daily, is the least time compatible with health for 
adults, though ten are better; while children require a greater 
amount both of out-door air and exercise, because they have, 
or ought to have a higher temperature^", and greater vigor in 
the circulation, because that circulation has more to do in 
them than in adults — has to build up as well as sustain the 
system. This shutting children up in the house, even in cold 
weather, this being so afraid of a little fresh, cool air, is con- 
summate folly — is downright murder ; for there is no num- 
bering the deaths this extra carefulness has occasioned. Why, 
cool air is not poisonous. It is healthy — more so than warm 
air ; because, for its bulk, it contains more oxygen ^*, that great 
quickener of the blood, and stimulator of muscular, nervous, 
and cerebral action. If a heated atmosphere had been best 
for man, nature would have provided it. But it is not so. It 
relaxes. All the inhabitants of the tropics are indolent, men- 
tally and physically. All northerners, however active here, 
are rendered indolent in a tropical climate. Hence the re- 
quisition of more or less cold to stir up the system. And un- 
less parents wish to make inert blockheads of their children, 
do not keep them shut up in a hot stove room. However 
cold it is, let them out — for all children delight to go — and 
their lungs will soon warm them up and keep them warm ^^. 
And if your dear, darling, delicate, puny child is indeed so 
weak, that fresh air gives it a cold, you ought to be sent to 
prison for rendering it thus tender — rather, ought not to have 
any child at all. This brings up for condemnation — 




Schools are great disease-breeders to both body and mind. 
Children require action, not confinement. They should learn 
on foot, not " sit on a bench and say A." Especially should 
they have an abundance of fresh air. Yet to confine two or 
three score of children in a school-house sixteen by twenty — 
enough to breathe up all the air it contains in a few minutes — 
and to burn out the vitality of even this moiety by a roaring 
fire — and then to keep ihem thus, stuffed with food, but pant- 
ing for breath and action, one quarter of their lives, and 
most of the balance not much better, signs, seals, and de- 
livers the death-warrant of many a fond and lovely embryo 
of humanity. Our children do not get half air enough. This 
occasions their being puny, sickly, and mortal. No wonder 
that half of them die in childhood. The wonder is that more 
do not. 

Nor are cities the places to bring up children. They can- 
not go out of doors for fear of getting lost or run over, nor 
play within, because ma, grandma, or aunt is sick. Nor if 
they could, can they obtain fresh air in coal-heated nurseries 
or kitchens. God made the country — man made the city. 
Cities are useful only to heap up paltry gold. The country, 
"O that's the place for me." But, parents, whether you 
inhabit city or country, see to it, I beseech you, that your 
children have a full supply of fresh air daily and perpet- 

Our subject also shows the absolute necessity of 


To say nothing of the importance of ventilating churches, 
lecture-rooms, and places of general concourse. Hear A. 
Combe on this subject. 

" The fatal effects of breathing highly vitiated air may easily be 
made the subject of experiment. When a mouse is confined in a 
large and tight glass-jar full of air, it seems for a short time to expe- 
rience no inconvenience ; but in proportion as the consumption of oxy- 
gen and the exhalation of carbonic acid proceed, it begins to show symp- 
toms of uneasiness, and to pant in its breathing, as if struggling for air; 
and in a few hours it dies, convulsed exactly as if drowned or stran- 


gulated. The same results follow the deprivation of air in man 
and in all animated beings ; and in hanging, death results not from 
dislocation of the necii, as is often supposed, but simply because the 
interruption of the breathing prevents the necessary changes from 
taking place in the constitution of the blood. 

" The horrible fate of the 146 Englishmen who were shut up in 
the Black Hole of Calcutta, in 1756, is strikingly illustrative of the 
destructive consequences of an inadequate supply of air. The whole 
of them were thrust into a confined place, eighteen feet square. 
There were only two very small windows by which air could be 
admitted, and as both of these were on the same side, ventilation 
was utterly impossible. Scarcely was the door shut upon the 
prisoners, when their sufferings commenced, and in a short time a 
delirious and mortal struggle ensued to get near the windows. 
Within four hours, those who survived lay in the silence of apo- 
plectic stupor; and at the end of six hours, ninety-six were relieved 
by death ! In the morning, when the doors were opened, twenty- 
three only were found alive, many of whom were subsequently cut 
off by putrid fever, caused by the dreadful effluvia and corruption 
of the air. 

"But, it may be said, such a catastrophe as the above could hap- 
pen only among a barbarous and ignorant people. One would think 
so ; and yet such is the ignorance prevailing among ourselves, that 
more than one parallel to it can be pointed out even in our own 
history. Of two instances to which I allude, one has lately been 
published in the ' Life of Crabbe,' the poet. When ten or eleven 
years of age, Crabbe was sent to a school at Bungay. ' Soon after 
his arrival, he had a very narrow escape. He and several of his 
school-fellows were punished for playing at soldiers, by being put 
into a large dog-kennel, known by the terrible name of the ' Black 
Hole;' George was the first that entered, and the place being 
crammed full with offenders, the atmosphere soon became pestilen- 
tially close. The poor boy in vain shrieked that he was about to 
be suffocated. At last, in desi)air, he bit the lad next to him vio- 
lently in the hand; 'Crabbe is dying, Crabbe is dying,' roared the 
sufiterer; and the sentinel at length opened the door, and allowed 
the boys to rush out into the air." My father said, ' A minute more 
and I must have died.' ' — (Crahbe's Life, hy his Son.) 

" The other instance is recorded in Walpole's Letters, and is the 
moi-e memorable, because it was the pure result of brutal ij^^norance, 
and not at all of cruelty or design. 'There has been lately,' says 
Walpole, 'the most shocking scene of murder imaginable : a parcel 
of DRUNKEN constables took it into their heads to put the laws .n 
execution against disorderly persons, and so took up every person 
they met, till they had collected five or six and twenty, all of whom 
they thrust into St. Martin's round-house, where they kept them 
all night with doors and windows closed. The poor creatures, who 
could not stii- or breathe, screamed as long as they had any breath 
left, begging at least for water : one poor wretch said she was worth 
eighteen pence, and would gladly give it for a drfiught of water, but 


in vain ! So well did they keep them there, that in the morning four 
were found stifled to death ; two died soon after, and a dozen more 
are in a shocking way. In short, it is horrid to think what the 
poor creatures suffered ; several of them were beggars, who, from 
having no lodging, were necessarily found on the street, and others 
honest laboring-women.' ******* 

'' I do not mean to say, that in all the above instances the fatal re- 
sults were attributable exclusively to vitiation of the air by breathing. 
Fixed air may have been disengaged also from some other source; 
but the deteriorating influence of respiration, where no ventilation 
is possible, cannot be doubted. According to Dr. Bostock's esti- 
mate, an average sized man consumes about 45,000 cubic inches of 
oxygen, and gives out about 40,000 of carbonic acid in twenty-four 
hours, or 18,750 of oxygen, and 16,666 of carbonic acid in ten 
hours, which is nearly the time during which the sufferers had re- 
mained in the cabin before they were found. As they were two in 
number, the quantity of oxygen which would have been required 
for iheir consumption was equal to 37,500 cubic inches, while the 
carbonic acid given out would amount to upwards of 32,000 inches — 
a source of impurity which, added to the constant exhalation of 
waste matter and animal effluvia from the lungs, was manifestly 
quite equal to the production of the serious consequences which 
ensued from it, and which no one, properly acquainted with the 
conditions essential to healthy respiration, would ever have willingly 
encountered. Even supposing that the cause of death was some 
disengagement of gas within the vessel, it is still certain that, had 
the means of ventilation been adequately provided, this gas would 
have been so much diluted, and so quickly dispersed, that it would 
have been comparatively innocuous. 

'* The best and most experienced medical oflficers of the army 
and navy, are always the most earnest in insisting on thorough ven- 
tilation as a chief preservative of health, and as indispensable for 
the recovery of the sick. Sir George Ballingall recurs to it fre- 
quently, and shows the importance attached to it by Sir John Prin- 
gle. Dr. Jackson, Sir Gilbert Blane, and others of equally high 
authority. Sir John Pringle speaks of hospitals beings in his day, 
the causes of much sickness, and of frequent deaths, * on account 
of the bad air, and other inconveniences attending them ;' and Dr. 
Jackson, in insisting on ' height of roof as a property of great im- 
portance in a house appropriated to the reception of the sick of 
armies,' adds as the reason, that 'the air being contaminated by 
the breathings of a crowd of people in a confined space, disease is 
originated, and mortality is multiplied to an extraordinary extent. 
It was often proved in the history of the late war, that more hu- 

" In the same volume (p. 114) the reader will find another exam- 
ple not less painful than instructive of the evils arising, first, from 


crowding together a gi'eater number of human beings than the nir 
of the apartment can sustain, and, secondly, from the total negleci: 
of scientific rules in effecting ventilation. In the summer of 1811, 
a low typhoid fever broke out in the 4th battalion of the Royals, 
then quartered in Stilling Castle. In many instances, violent in- 
flammation of the lungs supervened, and the result of the iwo dis- 
eases was generally fatal. On investigating the circumstances of 
this fever, it was found that rooms of twenty -one feet by eighteen 
were occupied by sixty men, and that others of thirty-one feet by 
twenty-one were occupied by seventy-two men ! To prevent 
sufiEbcation the windows were kept open all night, so that the men 
were exposed at once to strong currents of cold air, and to ' the 
heated and concentrated animal efiiuvia necessarily existing in such 
crowded apartments ; thus subjecting them to the combined effects 
of typhus fever, and of pneumonic inflammation. In the less crowded 
apartments of the same barrack no instances of fever occurred.' 
The men who were directly in the way of the current of cold air, 
were of course those who suffered from inflammation. 

" Mr. Carmichael justly regards impure air as one of the most 
powerful causes of scrofula, and accounts for the extreme preva- 
lence of the disease in the Dublin House of Industry at the time 
he wrote, (1809.) by mentioning, that in one ward of moderate 
height, sixty feet by eighteen, there Ys^ere thirty-eight beds, each 
containing three children, or more than one hundred in all ! The 
matron told Mr. Carmichael, that 'there is no enduring the air of this 
apartment when the doors are firat thrown open in the morning ; 
and that it is in vain to raise any of the windows, as those children 
who happened to be inconvenienced by the cold, close them as soon 
as they have an opportunity. The air they breathe in the day is 
little better : many are confined to the apartments they sleep in, or 
crowded to the number of several hundreds in the school-room.' 
Can any one read this account, and wonder at the prevalence of 
scrofula under such circumstances!" 


Is Still more important, because we consume quite as great 
a proportion of air, yet are far more liable to neglect its re- 
supply. Most of us spend one third of our lives in little, 
eight by ten bed-rooms, scarcely seven feet high, and capable 
of holding only from five to eight hundred feet of air — not an 
hour's breathing timber ! And then every crevice, even to 
the key-hole, must be stuffed to prevent the ingress of fresh 
air. Look at our factory operatives — often six persons con- 
fined all night in a little room not exceeding ten feet square, 
and seven high ! No wonder their vocation is unhealthy. 
And then how repulsive the smell of bed-rooms generally in 


the morning, observable on quitting them a few minutes, and 
returning. Instead of being thus miserably supplied with fresh 
air, they should be large, and especially high, and arranged 
so as to admit free ventilation. A draft directly upon you 
may be objectionable, yet even this is far less so than con- 
fined air, and can be rendered harmless by a good supply of 
bed-clothes — though the less of these, and keep comfortable, 
the better. Large, airy sleeping apartments would add one 
fourth to the aggregate duration of human life. They should 
be the largest rooms in our houses. 

Yet the general idea obtains that night air is unwholesome, 
and often pestilential, than which nothing is more unfounded. 
The Deity render night air unwholesome, and yet compel us 
to breathe it ! This supposition conflicts with the whole 
economy of nature. If night air had been really injurious, 
she would have allowed us to sleep without breathing, for she 
never compels the least thing injurious. Night air is equally 
as wholesome as day air. It may be damper, but that does 
not hurt it for breathing purposes. It is usually cooler, and, 
therefore, contains more oxygen, and is, therefore, even better 
than day air — at least for sleeping purposes. Why are we 
so restless in hot summer nights, and why sleep so sweetly, 
and wake up so invigorated in cold fall nights, but because 
the needed supply of oxygen is so much greater in the latter 
instance ? So far from being injurious, I give it as my 
deliberate opinion, that sleeping with open windows v/ould 
greatly promote health. I prefer to do so, however stormy or 
boisterous the weather, and know of several who sleep thus 
summer and winter, every one of whom is remarkably robust 
and healthy. Yet if you adopt this practice, adopt it by 
degrees, so as not to take cold. Special attention is invited to 


The blood is rendered dark by the carbon it has taken up. 
And the darker it is, the greater the amount of carbon in it. 
Now this carbon should pass off through the lungs, and it 
will do so when we breathe abundantly. But when we do 
not, a sufficient amount of the nitrogen contained in the air 


we breathe is not brought alongside of the carbonic acid con- 
tained in the blood to carry off all of the latter, so that it is 
obliged to return with the blood into the system, and, be- 
ing a rank poison as well as stagnating, it poisons and pros- 
trates the vital organs, diminishes life, and engenders disease. 
Blueness of veins in children or adults is a sure index of .the 
superabundance of this poison and of insuflicient breathing. 
Let such both eat less and breathe more, so as to thin and 
redden the blood. True, the blood in the veins should be 
dark, but not dark enough to show through. And when visi- 
ble, see to it, as you value life, that this powerful disease- 
breeder is removed by a more thorough oxydization of the 

An entire volume might be written on this subject of venti- 
lation ; but all-important as it is, our proposed limits do not 
allow its farther prosecution. We say in conclusion, attend 
to breathing even more than to eating. Make provision for a 
constant re-supply of fresh air even more than for good food. 
And ye parents, see that your children have it in luxurious 
abundance night and day. 




Water covers a great part of the earth's surface, and con- 
stitutes a large proportion of all that lives. Nor can anything 
grow without it, nor, mosses excepted, any dry thing live. 
The ancients supposed it the parent of all endowed with life, 
and experience teaches us that without it plant and animal 
parch up and die. 

Nor can man live without it. Indeed three-fourths of him 
are composed of water, and so are four-fifths of his blood. 
Whether this element is required on its own account, or as 
the great porter of the system, we will not now stop to en 


quire ; but, be its use what it may, it is even as essential to 
life as solid food, nor is anything but air more so. 

If asked — " How, then, could Dr. Alcott live over a year 
without drinking a drop of liquid, and others a less time, and 
even without experiencing thirst V I answer — All we eat 
contains it. Meat consists of about three-fourths water ; car- 
rots, beets, turnips, potatoes, and cabbages, about nine-tenths ; 
eggs about seven-tenths ; milk nearly nine-tenths ; and thus 
of other kinds of food. So that we cannot eat without intro- 
ducing it into the animal economy. 

Man was also undoubtedly ordained to drink as well as eat. 
To this end he has a drinking organ — Bibativeness, or Aqua- 
tiveness — located anteriorly to Alimentiveness, adapting him 
both to the existence of water and this constitutional demand 
for drink. Water is also manufactured throughout every 
portion of the system ^*. Whether we drink water or not, 
whether it abounds in the system, or is deficient, we are 
obliged to receive hydrogen into the system with our food, 
and oxygen through our lungs, so that these two gases are 
forced into close proximity in t-he capillary blood-vessels, and 
whenever thus brought together, they unite in the proportion 
to form water till on« or the other is consumed ^^. So that, 
with all this demand for water, man could probably exist 
without taking any water even with his food. 


But all the water thus taken into and manufactured within 
the system does not remain there. Indeed, it is perpetually 
given off through the lungs, the skin, and every avenue of 
escape throughout the body. The amount given off by a 
healthy adult daily is estimated at about forty ounces, though 
it of course varies in different individuals, and in the same 
individual at different times, according as he drinks, exercises, 
and the like, much or little. 

The lungs exhale large quantities of water, as seen in 
breathing upon glass, and its freezing on the beard in a cold 
morning. The moisture expired with the breath in a crowded 
room also occasions that " sweating" of the windows so often 


observed. But the great outlet for the escape of water, after 
it has fulfilled its mission of life, is 


This thin and exceedingly tough membrane is stretched 
over the entire body, and also lines all its apertures. It con- 
sists of three coatings — the cuticle, or epidermis, a horny, 
insensible over coat, such as we see often rubbed up by 
bruises, and raised in blisters. This outside skin is thin over 
the joints so as not to obstruct their motion, but thick in the 
palms of the hands and soles of the feet, even from birth — a 
wise provision indeed. The second coating, called rete muco- 
sum, constitutes the middle coating, and contains that coloring 
matter which paints the various races their various colors — 
the African, black, for example. The cutis, dermis, or true 
skin, is the great instrumentality of sensation, absorption, and 
exhalation, the former of which will be treated in its place. 

This cutis is perfectly full of little pores, thousands being 
contained in every square inch. It is also filled with two sets 
of capillary network, nerves, and blood-vessels, the latter 
being especially numerous here so as to support the former, 
and thus create sensation. Indeed, it is probably composed 
mainly by these tissues, and its innumerable pores are proba- 
bly formed by their interweaving. Through these pores the 
waste water, and much of the excrementitious matter engen- 
dered during the vital process, escapes, causing the perspira- 
tion to be sensible or insensible according as it is more or less 
copious Sensible perspiration causes sweat to ooze out and 
stand in drops, or run down in streams, from all parts of the 
body, as when we take violent exercise in hot weather, drink 
copiously of warm water, and the like. 


This is perpetually taking place from all parts of the skin. 
This is rendered plainly perceptible by inserting the hand in 
a glass tumbler turned bottom upwards, or by laying the hand 
on glass, or even drawing the finger slowly across it. 

A contrivance as deeply laid as this, cannot but perform 


some most important end in tlie animal economy. And so it 
does. Tliese forty ounces of water do not steam forth per- 
petually from the system alone, but bring along out with them 
much of the waste matter engendered by the vital process. 
This process is one of perpetual waste. It is estimated that 
all the matter in the system, at any given time, becomes use- 
less, because its vitality is " used up," is carried off, and its 
place re-supplied by foreign substances every seven years. 
Probably half that time would be nearer the fact. Of course 
if this matter were allowed to remain just where it is created, 
the system would soon become as filthy as the Augean stables. 
To prevent this it is carried off as fast as it is manufactured. 

How carried off? By that same porter which brought it — 
WATER. As the blood brings a load of oxygen, and, as soon 
as it is unloaded, takes on the carbonic acid created by the 
combustion of that oxygen ^^ so after the water in the blood 
has brought out and deposited its freight of fresh muscle, 
nerve, etc., it takes on another freight of waste matter, and 
issues forth out of the system in the form of steam. 

What the author says, he generally knows — rarely guessing 
or theorizing. Ye allow a single departure. But for some such 
expulsive principle, the water, too, would lay inert in the sys- 
tem. Force is necessary to expel it, and doubly so to expel 
its accompanying corruption. Now may not this force be 
imparted by that very process which both manufactures the 
water ^^ and converts it into steam ? In other words, does not 
this conversion of water into steam, which necessarily manu- 
factures force, create the force required to expel both the 
water and its freight ? 

But be the means of such egress what it may, out it comes, 
and drags along out with it more than half of the refuse of 
all we eat, drink, and take into the system. Though the kid- 
neys, bowels, and lungs help to evacuate this waste matter, 
yet the skin is the great sluice-way for the egress of excre- 
mentitious matter — the scavenger of life which collects up all 
the leavings and filth out of the highways and byways of the 
city of life, and empties them out through this gateway. This 
shows the 



These pores closed, this waste matter is shut within the 
system to clog the organs of life on the one hand, and breed 
disease in the system on the other ; for, be it remembered, that 
most of this waste matter, like carbonic acid^^, is poisonous as 
well as in the way. It must pass out, or it extinguishes life. 
And woe to that system which retains it within its borders ! 
A. Combe ably enforces this point as follows : — 

" In traciag the connection between suppressed perspiration and 
the production of individual diseases, we shall find that those organs 
which possess some similarity of function sympathize most closely 
with each other. Thus the skin, the bowels, the lungs, the liver, 
and the kidneys, sympathize readily, because they have all the 
conmion office of throwing waste matter out of the system, each in 
a way peculiar to its own structure ; so that if the exhalation from 
the skin, for example, be stopped by long exposure to cold, the 
large quantity of waste matter which it was charged to excrete, and 
which in itself is hurtful to the sj^stem, will most probably be thrown 
upon one or other of the above-named organs, whose function will 
consequently become excited ; and if any of them, from constitu- 
tional or accidental causes, be already weaker than the rest, as often 
happens, its health will naturally be the first to suffer. In this 
way, the bowels become irritated in one individual, and occasion 
bowel complaint ; while in another, it is the lungs which become 
afl'ected, giving rise to catairh or common cold, or perhaps even to 
inflammation. When, on the other hand, all these organs are in a 
state of vigorous health, a temporary increase of function takes 
place in them, and relieves the system, without leading to any local 
disorder ; and the skin itself speedily resumes its activity, and re- 
stores the balance among them. 

" One of the most obvious illustrations of this reciprocity of ac- 
tion is a.fforded by any convivial company, seated in a w^arm room 
in a cold evening. The heat of the room, the food and wine, and 
the excitement of the moment, stimulate the skin, cause an afiflux 
of blood to the surface, and increase in a high degree the flow of 
the insensible perspiration ; which thus, while the heat continues, 
carries off an undue share of the fluids of the body, and leaves the 
kidneys almost at rest. But the moment the company goes into 
the cold external air, a sudden reversal of operations takes place ; 
the cold chills the surface, stops the perspiration, and directs the 
current of the blood towards the internal organs, which presently 
become excited — and, under this excitation, the kidneys, for exam- 
ple, will in a few minutes secrete as much of their peculiar fluid, 
as they did in as many of the preceding hours. The reverse of 
this again, is common in diseases obstructing the secretion from 
the kidneys ; for the perspiration from the skin is then altered in 


quantity and quality, and acquires much of the peculiar smell of 
the urinary fluid. 

" When the lungs are weak, and their lining membrane is habit- 
ually relaxed, and secretes an unusual amount of mucus from its 
surface, the mass thrown inwards upon the lungs by cold applied 
to the skin, increases that secretion to a high degree. Were this 
secretion to accumulate, it would soon fill up the air-cells of the 
lungs, and cause suffocation ; but to obviate this danger, the Creator 
has so constituted the lungs, that accumulated mucus or any foreign 
body coming in contact with them, excites the convulsive effort 
called coughing, by which a violent and rapid expiration takes place, 
with a force sufficient to hurry the mucus or other foreign body 
along with it ; just as peas are discharged by boys with much force 
through short tubes by a sudden effort of blowing. Thus, a check 
given to perspiration, by diminishing the quantity of blood previously 
circulating on the surface, naturally leads very often to increased 
expectoration and cough, or, in other words, to common cold. 

" The lungs excrete, as already noticed, and as we shall after- 
wards more fully see, a large proportion of waste materials from 
the system ; and the kidnej-s, tlie liver, and the bowels, have in so 
far a similar office. In consequence of this alliance with the skin, 
these parts are more intimately connected with each other in 
healthy and diseased action than with other organs. But it is a 
general law, that whenever an organ is unusually delicate, it will 
be affected by any cause of disease more easily than those which 
are sound : so that, if the nervous system, for example, be weaker 
than other parts, a chill will be more likely to disturb its health than 
that of the lungs, which are supposed, in this instance, to be con- 
stitutionally stronger ; or, if the muscular and fibrous organizations 
be unusually susceptible of disturbance, either from previous ill- 
ness or from natural predisposition, they will be the first to suffer, 
and rheumatism may ensue; and so on. And hence the utility 
to the phj^sician of an intimate acquaintance with the previous 
habits and constitutions of his patients, and the advantage of adapt- 
ing the remedies to the nature of the cause, when it can be discov- 
ered, as well as to the disease itself. A bowel complaint, for in- 
stance, may arise from over-eating as well as from a check to per- 
spiration ; but although the thing to be cured is the same, the means 
of cure ought obviousl}^ to be different. In the one instance, an 
emetic or laxative to carry off the offending cause, and in the other 
a diaphoretic to open the skin, will be the most rational and effica- 
cious remedies. Facts like these expose well the glaring ignorance 
and effrontery of the quack, who affirms that his one remedy will 
cure eveiy form of disease. Were the public not equally ignorant 
with himself, their credulity would cease to afford to his presump- 
tion the rich field in which it now revels. 

"The close sympathy between the skin and the stomach and 
bowels has often been noticed, and it is now well understood that 
most of the obstinate eruptions which appear on the face and rest 
of the surface, owe their origin to disorders of the digestive organs, 


and are most successfully cured by treatment directed to the inter- 
nal disease. Even among the lower animals, the sympathy between 
the two is so marked as to have arrested attention. Thus, in 
speaking of the horse, Delabere Blaine says, ' By a well-known 
consent of parts between the skin and alimentary canal in general, 
but between the first passages and the stomach in particular, it fol- 
lows, in almost every instance, that when one of these becomes 
affected, the other takes on a sympathetic derangement also, and 
the condition is then morbid throughout. From close observation 
and the accumulation of numerous facts, I am disposed to think, 
that so perfect is this sympathetic consent between these two dis- 
tant parts or organs, that they change the order of attack as circum- 
stances occur. Thus, when the skin is primarily affected, the 
stomach becomes secondarily so, and vice versa,' so that 'a sudden 
check to the natural or acquired heat of the body, particularly if 
aggravated by the evaporation of a perspiring state,' as often brings 
on disease of some internal organ, as if the cause were applied to 
the organ itself. 

" In noticing this connection between the suppression of perspira- 
tion and the appearance of internal disease, I do not mean to affirm 
that the effect is produced by the physical transference of the sup- 
pressed exhalation to the internal organ. In many instances, the 
chief impression seems to be made on the nervous system ; and 
the manner in which it gives rise to the resulting disease is often 
extremely obscure. Our knowledge of the animal functions is, 
indeed, still so imperfect, that we daily meet with many occurren- 
ces of which no explanation can be given. But it is nevertheless 
of high utility to make known the fact, that a connection does exist 
between two orders of phenomena, as it calls attention to their 
more accurate observation, and leads to the adoption of useful prac- 
tical rules, even when their mode of operation is not understood. 
Nothing, indeed, can be more delusive than the rash application of 
merely physical laws to the explanation of the phenomena of liv- 
ing beings. Vitality is a principle superior to, and in continual 
warfare w^th, the laws which regulate the actions of inanimate 
bodies ; and it is only after life has become extinct that these laws 
regain the mastery, and lead to the rapid decomposition of the ani- 
mal machine. In studying the functions of the human body, there- 
fore, we must be careful not to hurry to conclusions, before taking 
time to examine the influence of the vital principle in modifying the 
expected results. 

"It is in consequence of the sympathy and reciprocity of ac- 
tion existing between the skin and the internal organs that burns 
and even scalds of no very gi-eat extent prove fatal, by inducing in- 
internal, generally intestinal, inflammation. By disordering or dis- 
organizing a large nervous and exhaling surface, an extensive burn 
causes not only a violent nervous commotion, but a continued par- 
tial suspension of an important excretion; and, when death ensues 
at some distance of time, it is almost always in consequence of 
inflammation being excited in the bowels or sympathizing orgau. 


So intimate, indeed, is this connection, that some surgeons of great 
experience, such as the late Baron Duputtren, of the Hotel Dieu, 
while they point to internal inflammation as in such cases the gen- 
eral cause of death, doubt if recovery ever takes place, when 
more than one-eighth of the surface of the body is severely burnt. 
And whether this estimate be correct or not, the facts from which 
it is drawn clearly demonstrate the importance of the relation sub- 
sisting betwixt the skin and the other excreting organs. 

" In some constitutions, a singular enough sympathy exists be- 
tween the skin and the bowels. Dr. A. T. Thomson, in his work 
on Materia Medica, (p. 42,) mentions that he is acquainted with a 
clergyman who cannot bear the skin to be sponged with vinegar 
and water, or any diluted acid, without suffering spasm and violent 
griping of the bowels. The reverse operation of this sympathy is 
exemplified in the frequent production of nettle-rash and other 
eruptions on the skin, by shell-fish and other substances taken into 
the stomach. Dr. Thomson tells us, that the late Dr. Gregory 
could not eat the smallest portion of the white of an egg, without 
experiencing an attack of an eruption like nettle-rash. According 
to the same author, even strawberries have been known to cause 
fainting, followed by a petechial efflorescence of the skin. 

" We have seen that the insensible perspiration removes from 
the system, without trouble and without consciousness, a large 
quantity of useless materials, and at the same time keeps the skin 
soft and moist, and thereby fits it for the performance of its func- 
tions as the organ of an external sense. In addition to these pur- 
poses, the Creator has, in his omniscience and foresight, and with 
that regard to simplicity of means which betokens a profoundness 
of thought inconceivable to us, superadded another, scarcely less 
important, and which is in some degree implied in the former ; I 
mean the proper regulation of the bodily heat. It is well known 
that, in the polar regions and in the torrid zone, under every 
variety of circumstances, the human body retains nearly the same 
temperature, however different may be that of the air by which it 
is surrounded. This is a property peculiar to life, and, in conse- 
quence of it, even vegetables have a power of modifying their own 
temperature, though in a much more limited degree. Without 
this power of adaptation, it is obvious that man must have been 
chained for life to the climate which gave him birth, and even then 
have suffered constantly from the change of seasons ; whereas, by 
possessing it, he can retain life in a temperature sufficiently cold to 
freeze mercur3% and is able for a time to sustain, unharmed, a heat 
more than sufficient to boil water, or even to bake meat. Witness 
the wintering of Captain Parry and his companions in the Polar 
Regions ; and the experiments of Blagden, Sir Joseph Banks, and 
others, who remained for many minutes in a room heated to 260°, 
or about 50° above the temperature of boiling water. The chief 
agents in this wonderful adaptation of man to his external situation, 
are undoubtedly the skin and the lungs, in both of which the power 
is intimately connected with the condition of their respective e^ha.-- 

COLDS. 187 

lations. But it is of the skin alone, as an agent in reducing animal 
heat, that we are at present to speak. 

" The sources of animal heat are not yet demonstrably ascer- 
tained ; but that it is constantly generated and constantly expended 
has been loug known ; and if any considerable disproportion occurs 
between these processes, it is at the immediate risk of health. 
During repose, or passive exercise, such as riding in a carriage or 
sailing, the surplus heat is readily carried off by the insensible per- 
spiration from the lungs and skin, and by the contact of the colder 
air ; but when the amount of heat generated is increased, as du- 
ring active exercise, an increased expenditure becomes immediately 


Colds are caused by, and even consist in, suppressed per- 
spiration ; nor in anything else. They are occasioned thus : 
cold always contracts. This is an established law of things. 
Hence, a sudden change of the temperature of the skin from 
heat to cold, causes its pores to contract; many of them it 
closes. This shows why we perspire so little in colds, and 
also in fevers — especially obdurate colds. Nor do they consist 
in anything else than this closing of these pores. And the 
injury they inflict arises mainly from their shutting up this 
waste matter in the system. And the reason why, during 
colds, the lungs, nose, etc., discharge copiously a thick, yel 
low phlegm, is, that this corruption, shut in by the closing of 
these pores, yet being hostile to life, is carried to the lungs, 
and converted into phlegm, to the kidneys, bowels, and even to 
the brain, and discharged through the nose and all the other 
outlets; and hence that increase of all these secretions as 
mentioned by Combe. 

Many of us know by experience, that these cold customers 
are exceedingly troublesome — know how dull, feverish, rest- 
less, and miserable they render us, and how full of aches, 
and pains they fill us. Colds are the principal cause of teeth- 
aches. If you have a bad tooth, it rarely troubles you except 
after you have taken cold, and the way to cure this painful 
malady is, to cure that cold which is its exciting cause. 

Fevers too, are mainly the results of colds. That sand-bar 
of health, the fever and ague, makes its attack in company 
with colds. Avoid them, and you escape it. And those 


neighborhood distempers or epidemics which sweep over city 
and country, affecting nearly all, prostrating many, and cut- 
ting off more or less in the midst of life, are generally only 
colds, and are thus prevalent because certain states of the at- 
mosphere have conspired to occasion colds, and these the 
choleras, influenzas, or other prevailing diseases. Avoid these 
colds, and these plagues will pass you by as those of Egypt 
did the Israelites. Nor can you have a cold without having 
a fever. Hence the fallacy of that proverb, " stuff a cold 
and starve a fever," for colds cause fevers. Though fevers 
may be caused by other violations of the laws of health, yet 
colds always induce fevers. Hence, the adage "stuff a cold 
and starve a fever," is erroneous. Bilious, and kindred at- 
tacks will be found almost always to have supervened on very 
severe colds, they generally commencing with chills, just as 
colds do ; and though the stomach is also disabled, yet, but for 
the cold, the stomach would not have been broken down. It 
may have been previously foul, and have thus generated by 
means of imperfect digestion, a great amount of corruption, 
which, however, open pores would have continued to carry 
off; whereas, this outlet closed, it is retained, accumulates, 
obstructs, poisons, and at length prostrates, perhaps destroys 
life. I do not hesitate to reiterate what I have long and widely 
declared, in lectures and works, that I regard colds as the 
cause of more than half the diseases of our climate — of nearly 
all except those created by impaired digestion. Indeed, even 
when the latter breeds disease perpetually, open pores carry 
it off as continually, so that little damage is done. But shut 
these pores, and besides the waste matter retained, all that 
corruption engendered by imperfection in any of the vital or- 
gans, is also shut in to poison and destroy. In short, keep 
clear of colds, and you will escape disease ; because other 
causes will rarely be sufficient to induce them. As five- 
eighths of the waste matter of the vital process escapes 
through the skin, why should not the closing of this avenue 
occasion that proportion of the diseases prevalent ? Many 
will think I attribute more disease to colds than really belongs 
to them ; but let such look at the universal fact, that they 


always precede and induce consumption, that great mower of 
human life. Did you ever know a consumptive patient whose 
attack did not set in after a terrible cold ? — or rather, was not 
that cold protracted and aggravated ? Colds induce coughs, 
as just explained by Combe, and that pulmonary irritation, 
cough, and final consumption of the lungs, which constitutes 
this mortal enemy to life, consist in nothing more nor less than 
an obstinate cold. I care not how predisposed, hereditarily or 
practically, persons may be to consumption, they will never 
have it till they take a " heavy cold." Keep clear of these 
precursors and ushers of this disease, and I will insure your 
life against the disease itself. And those thus predisposed, 
should, in a special manner, guard against contracting colds, 
and when taken, break them up as quickly as possible ; for 
their life depends upon the issue. 

Children still farther illustrate this principle. They rarely 
if ever sicken till they get cold. Of the correctness of this 
assertion, let observation be the test. All colds do not make 
them down sick, yet they very rarely become sick till they 
have taken cold. Keep them from the latter, and I will guar- 
antee them against sickness. Even when their disease ap- 
pears to be seated in the stomach or other organs, its origin 
will generally be found in suppressed perspiration, as shown 
in the extract from Combe. All cramps and lung difficulties, 
are of course the direct products of colds. So are all brain- 
fevers. So are all influenzas, and almost all complaints inci- 
dent to childhood. Keep the young from taking colds, or 
break up all colds as soon as contracted, and they will never 
be sick, nor die except of old age. 

Rheumatic affections also prove and illustrate our doctrine. 
It is submitted to all thus afflicted, be it more or less, whether 
these pains in their joints, muscles, and bones are not doubled 
and re-doubled every time you take cold. The same holds 
true of the head-ache — generally a rheumatic affection of the 

An anecdote. While lecturing in East Bradford, Mass., in 
1844, a promising youth took a most violent cold which in- 
duced a correspondingly violent fever, and hurried him into his 


grave. Another brother, while attending the funeral of this 
one, also took a terrible cold, which, in a few days, swept 
him also into eternity ! A sister, exhausted by watching this 
brother, also took a very severe cold while attending his fu- 
neral, and, in consequence, was soon bereft of reason, and 
then attacked with a scorching fever, of which she died in 
about a week. All three deaths were distinctly traceable to 
colds. Three or four other members of this self-afflicted 
family were also sick simultaneously, of colds, the weather 
at the time of these funerals being particularly unfavorable. 

Reader, trace the sickness around you back and up to its 
cause, and you will be surprised to find colds the author of 
nine cases in every ten. I can remember no sickness in my 
life not induced by this cause. Recall your own ailings, and 
see if this principle does not explain their origin. 

But why particularize farther? Do not these instances, 
cognizant to the experience of most, and the observation 
of all, prove that colds are the chief causes of disease ? 
And these distinctions made by physicians between different 
forms of fever, and other diseases, are not founded in the 
NATURE of such discases, but only different modes of attack, 
and manifestation of the same disease — the closing of the 


Therefore, becomes as important as such colds are inju- 
rious. To consumptive subjects, such prevention is life, as 
these colds are death. How, then, can they be prevented ? 

By keeping the skin active. The system manufactures 
a great amount of heat^^. That heat is abundant at the sur- 
face so as to fortify it against those changes of temperature 
which affect the skin mainly. Hence the great accumulation 
of blood-vessels at the surface of the body. Probably no part 
of the body, the head possibly excepted, is as abundantly sup- 
plied with blood-vessels as the skin. Hence its warmth. Now 
vigorous surface circulation will keep these pores so warm as 
to resist the closing action of the external cold. In such cases 
these atmospheric changes do no evil. They close the pores 


only where the surface circulation has become impaired. 
Keep that vigorous, and it will ward off all colds, extreme 
cases of exposure possibly excepted. Whatever, therefore, 
tends to promote the activity of the skin, thereby fortifies the 
svstem against colds. The two means of promoting such 
action, are the promotion of circulation in general, and the 
external application of friction and water. 


To say nothing of the ablution of the entire person as a 
means of cleanliness, or of the surprising quantity of scurf 
brought off by occasional baths and friction, and the conse- 
quent opening of the pores, the habitual practice of bathing 
will be found effectually to fortify the system against colds. 
Though constitutionally consumptive, and predisposed to colds, 
the author has not taken a cold on the average in two years 
since he adopted the practice of bathing regularly every day 
or two ; and all he has taken, but one, have been contracted 
after he had suspended these baths for weeks previously, be- 
cause especially inconvenient. Nor would the wealth of 
Astor compensate for a discontinuance of this practice, because 
colds, with all their evils, would soon follow, and inevitably 
usher in consumption, and thus end his days. And any reader 
not accustomed to frequent bathing, would actually find a 
greater prize in its judicious application than if he should in- 
herit the fortune of all the Rothschilds, because by removing 
diseases and their causes — obstructions — as well as prolong- 
ing lifers it will promote general enjoyment more than all 
the wealth of the world ! Nothing would tempt me to do 
without my bath. Its habitual use renders me cold proof, 
and keeps both hereditary and acquired predispositions to dis- 
ease at bay, as well as doubles and trebles my ability to en- 
dure both physical and mental exertion. Even as a luxury 
it is equalled only by food and sleep. I go to it, not with 
dread, but with alacrity, on account of the pleasure it gives 
me. And this pleasure is the greater the colder the weather, 
because of the greater re-action and subsequent delightful 
glow. Still, it must be rightly managed, else it results in 


evil proportionate to its good. The cold bath should never be 
taken except where there is sufficient energy in the system to 
produce a delightful re-action and subsequent glow-— these 
sure signs and concomitants of its utility. A. Combe re- 
marks on this point as follows : — 

"For general use, the tepid or warm bath seems to me much 
more suitable than the cold bath, especially in winter, and for those 
who are not robust and full of animal heat. Where the constitu- 
tion is not sufficiently vigorous to secure reaction after the cold 
bath, as indicated by a warm glow over the surface, its use inevita- 
bly does harm. A vast number of persons are in this condition ; 
while, on the contrary there are few indeed who did not derive evi- 
dent advantage from the regular use of the tepid bath, and still 
fewer who are hurt by it. 

"Where the health is good, and the bodily powers are sufficiently 
vigorous, the cold bath during summer, and the shower bath in 
winter may serve every purpose required from them. But it should 
never be forgotten, that they are too powerful in their agency to be 
used by evert one, especially in cold weather. In proportion as 
cold bathing is influential in the restoration of health when judi- 
ciously used, it is hurtful when resorted to without discrimination ; 
and invalids, therefore, ought never to have recourse to it without 
the sanction of their pi'ofessional advisers. 

" Even where cold bathing is likely to be of service, when judi- 
ciously employed, much mischief often results from prolonging the 
immersion too long, or from resorting to it when the vital powers 
are too languid to admit of the necessary reaction — before break- 
fast for example, or after fatigue. For this reason, many persons 
derive much benefit from bathing early in the forenoon, who, when 
they bathe in the morning before taking any sustenance, do not 
speedily recover their natural heat and elasticity of feeling. 

"For those who are not robust, daily sponging of the body with 
cold water and vinegar, or with salt water, is the best substitute 
for the cold bath, and may be resorted to with safety and advantage 
in most states of the system ; especially when care is taken to ex- 
cite in the surface, by subsequent friction with the flesh-brush or 
hair-glove, the healthy glow of reaction. It then becomes an 
excellent preservative from the effects of changeable weather. 
When, however, a continued sensation of coldness or chill is per- 
ceptible over the body, sponging ought not to be persisted in : dry 
friction, aided by the tepid bath, is then greatly preferable, and 
often proves highly serviceable in keeping up the due action of the 

" For habitual use, the tepid or warm bath is certainly the safest 
and most valuable, especially during the autumn, winter, and spring, 
and for invalids. A temperature ranging from B5° to 98^ according 
to the state of the individual, is the most suitable; and the duration 


of the immersion may vary from fifteen minutes to an hour or more, 
according to circumstances. As a general rule, the water ought to be 
warm enough to feel pleasant without giving a positive sensation of 
heat ; the degree at wliich this happens varies considerably accord- 
ing to the constitution and to the state of health at the time. Some- 
times, when the generation of animal heat is great, a bath at 95° will 
be felt disagreeably warm and relaxing; while, at another time, when 
the animal heat is produced in deficient quantity, the same temper- 
ature will cause a chilly sensation. The rule, then, is to avoid 
equally the positive impressions of heat and cold, and to seek the 
agreeable medium. A bath of the latter description is the reverse 
of relaxing ; it gives a cheerful tone and activity to all the functions, 
and may be used every day, or on alternate days, for fifteen or 
twenty minutes, with much advantage. 

" A person of sound health and strength may take a bath at any 
time, except immediately after meals. But the best time for vale- 
tudinarians is in the forenoon or evening, two or three hours after 
a moderate meal, when the system is invigorated by food, but not 
oppressed by the labor of digestion. When the bath is delayed till 
five or six hours after eating, delicate people sometimes become 
faint under its operation, and, from the absence of reaction, are 
rather weakened by the relaxation it then induces. As a general 
nile, active exertion ought to be avoided for an hour or two after 
using the warm or tepid bath ; and, unless we wish to induce per- 
spiration, it ought not to be taken immediately before going to bed ; 
or if it is, it ought to be merely tepid, and not of too long duration. 

" These rules apply of course only to persons in an ordinary state 
of health. If organic disease, headache, feverishness, constipation, 
or other ailment exist, bathing ought never to be employed without 
medical advice. When the stomach is disordered by bile, it also 
generally disagrees. But that it is a safe and valuable preservative 
of health in ordinary circumstances, and an active remedy in disease, 
is most certain. Instead of being dangerous by causing liability to 
cold, it is, when well managed, so much the reverse, that the author 
of these pages has used it much and successfully for the express 
purpose of diminishing such liability, both in himself and in others 
in whom the chest is delicate. In his own instance, in particular, 
he is conscious of having derived much advantage from its regular 
employment, especially in the colder months of the year, during 
which he has uniformly found himself most eflfectually strengthened 
against the impression of cold, by repeating the bath at shorter 
intervals than usual. 

" In many manufactories, where warm water is always obtainable, 
it would be of very great advantage to have a few baths erected 
for the use of the operatives. Not only would these be useful in 
promoting health and cleanliness, but they would, by their refresh- 
ing and soothing influence, diminish the craving for stimulus which 
leads so many to the gin-shop ; and, at the same time, calm the 
irritability of mind so apt to be induced by excessive labor. Where 
the trade is dirty, as many trades necessarily are, it is needless to 


say how conducive to health and comfort a tepid bath would be on 
quitting it for the day. 

" On the Continent, the vapor and hot air-baths are had recourse 
to, both as a means of health and in the cure of disease, to a vastly 
greater extent than they are in this countiy. Their use is attended 
by the very best effects, particularly in chronic ailments, and where 
the water-bath is felt to be oppressive by its weight ; and there can 
be no question that their action is chiefly on the skin, and through 
its medium on the nervous system. As a means of determining the 
blood to the surface, promoting cutaneous exhalation, and equalizing 
the circulation, they are second to no remedy now in use : and con- 
sequently, in a variety of affections which the encouragement of 
these processes is calculated to relieve, they may be employed 
with every prospect of advantage. The prevalent fear of catching 
cold, which deters many from using the vapor-bath, even more 
than from warm bathing, is founded on a false analogy between its 
effects and those of profuse perspiration from exercise or illness. 
The latter weakens the body, and, by diminishing the power of re- 
action, renders it susceptible of injury from sudden changes of tem- 
perature. But the effect of the vapor-bath properly administered 
is very different. When not too warm or too long continued, it 
increases instead of exhausting the strength, and, by exciting the 
vital action of the skin, gives rise to a power of reaction which 
enables it to resist cold better than before. This I have heard 
many patients remark ; and the fact is well exemplified in Russia 
and the north of Europe, where, in the depth of winter, it is not 
uncommon for the natives to rush out of a vapor-bath and roll them- 
selves in the snow, and be refreshed by doing so ; whereas, were 
they to attempt such a practice after severe perspiration from 
exercise, they would inevitably suffer. It is the previous stimulus 
given to the skin by the vapor-bath which is the real safeguard 
against the coldness of the snow. 

" Common experience affords another illustration of the same 
principle. If, in a cold winter day, we chance to sit for some time 
in a room imperfectly warmed, and feel in consequence a sensation 
of chillness over the body, we are much more likely to catch cold 
on going out, than if we had been sitting in a room comfortably 
warm. In the latter case, the cutaneous circulation and nei-vous 
action go on vigorously; heat is freely generated, and the vital 
action of the skin is in its full force. The change to a lower tem- 
perature, if accompanied with exercise to keep up vitality, is then 
felt to be bracing and stimulating rather than disagi-eeable. But 
it is widely different when the surface is already chilled before 
gomg out. The vitality of the skin being diminished, reaction 
cannot follow additional exposure ; the circuhition leaves the surface 
and becomes still more internal ; and if weakness exist in the throat 
or chest, cold is the almost certain result. Many suffer from ignor- 
ance of this principle. 

" The vapor-bath is thus calculated to be extensively useful, both 
as a preservative and as a remedial agent. Many a cold and many 


a rheumatic attack arising from checked perspiration or long ex- 
posure to the weather, might be nipped in the bud by its timely use. 
In chronic affections, not only of the skin itself, but of the internal 
organs with which the skin most closely sympathizes, as the stomach 
and intestines, the judicious application of the vapor-bath is pro- 
ductive of great relief Even in chronic pulmonary complaints, it is, 
according to the continental physicians, not only safe, but very 
serviceable ; particularly in those affections of the mucous mem- 
brane which resemble consumption in so many of their symptoms. 
Like all powerful remedies, however, the vapor-bath must be 
administered with proper regard to the condition and circumstances 
of the individual; and care must be taken to have the feet sufficiently 
warm during its use. If, from an irregular distribution of the steam, 
the feet be left cold, headache and flushing are almost sure to 

My own preferences side unequivocally in favor of the 
HAND bath as preferable to all others, because it is more 
easily applied, requires much bodily exertion, which facilitates 
the required re-action, and can be discontinued the instant a 
chilly sensation begins to supervene, beyond which no bath 
should ever be continued a single moment. Salt, vinegar, and 
other stimulants added to the water, facilitate this re-action by 
exciting the skin, as does also sea-bathing, which, under cer- 
tain circumstances, is most excellent. But we dismiss this 
subject till we come to treat of water as a remedial agent. 


Next comes up for discussion ; for if they can be cured 
soon after having been contracted, the accumulation of waste 
matter will be trifling, and therefore only slightly injurious. 
How then, can colds be cured ? 

By opening the pores, the closing of which caused them. 
This opening can be affected in part by washing and rubbing, 
but PERSPIRATION forces them open more effectually than prob- 
ably any other means whatever. Indeed, it is the great anti- 
dote of colds and their dread array of consequences. Nor is 
it material what induces this perspiration, so that it is copious, 
and does not eventuate in another cold. Where the patient 
is able to exercise sufficiently to burst open these pores, 
whether he takes this exercise out of doors or in a warm or 
cold atmosphere, is not material, so that he induces it. In 


short, get into a dripping sweat, and then cool off without 
contracting more cold, and you will drive it off, as well as feel 
many fold better. 

Where colds are taken in their incipient stages, before they 
have prostrated the system, the best means of breaking them 
up, is to drink copiously of water, warm or cold, or of warm 
lemonade, or of currant jelly and warm water, or warm com- 
position-tea, which is excellent to start perspiration, and then 
work right hard, almost violently, meanwhile pouring down 
one or another of these drinks by the quart. Do not over-do 
so as completely to exhaust, but so as to secure profuse per- 
spiration. This, together with the water, which, if taken in 
quantities, must have some exit, will re-open these closed 
pores, and destroy the disease. Females who can wash in a 
warm room, over the steam of hot water, will find this an in- 
fallible recipe for colds. Warm herb-teas will fill the place 
of water, yet are no better in their effects, and less liable to 
be taken on account of their bitterness. 

Soaking the feet in hot water, and then toasting them on re- 
tiring, meanwhile drinking copiously as above directed, and then 
covering up extra warm, or even the extra drinking and cover- 
ing will answer the same purpose ; yet care must be taken 
to keep the extra clothes on so as not to contract a new cold — 
the principal evil attendant on this simple and effectual cure. 
How many of us while young, cured our colds thus ? But I 
recommend the daytime. Eat little or no breakfast, but drink 
copiously of cold water for an hour or two after rising, and 
provided you can endure it, exercise vigorously, and then 
return to bed, cover up warm, and sweat till your hands be- 
gin to shrivel. Sleep if you can. On rising, wash all over 
in warm saleratus water, rub dry and briskly, and keep in a 
gentle perspiration all day by exercise. Or eat little break- 
fast, and begin to drink and exercise about eleven in the fore- 
noon, or even later, and pursue the same course, omitting din- 
ner, and eat only a light supper, or at least a light dinner, 
and very light supper, and retire early, or as soon after you 
have done exercise as possible, so as not to renew your cold. 


The warm bath, followed by friction and exercise, is also 
most excellent, and will generally prove efficacious. Yet here, 
too, care must be taken to guard against renewed colds — not 
by staying in the house, or muffling up, but by exercise — the 
very best means of inducing perspiration in the world, because 
the most natural. The wet sheet is another excellent method, 
especially for those who are not able to exercise sufficiently to 
to get up the required perspiration ; yet of this, and also of the 
water-cure in their appropriate places. Secure copious per- 
spiration and you break up your cold, besides unloading the 
system of its obstructions and poisons. Evacuating the bow- 
els, especially by injections, will facilitate your object, yet the 
water drank will be likely to effect this object — not indispen- 
sable, yet an aid. Vomiting, especially by drinking warm 
water, just at the lukewarm, sickening temperature, will ren- 
der essential service. Hot bricks wrapped in wet cloths, and 
laid at the feet, are good. 


Furnish an excellent illustration of our doctrine of routing 
colds by inducing perspiration. Obliged to labor excessively 
hard, and around a furnace so extremely hot as to keep the 
material at a white heat, they of course sweat profusely. I 
have often seen all their clothes wringing wet. Yet the sides of 
the building are open to the wind, else they could not endure 
the heat an hour. And they go from their furnaces to their 
houses while thus perspiring, and hence often take severe 
colds one day, which, however, they generally sweat out the 
next, so that these repeated colds make but short stay, and 
do but little damage ; simply because they expel them by in- 
ducing copious perspiration. This simple fact furnishes a 
practical illustration of the true method of curing colds, of 
great practical value. As colds consist in a closing of the 
pores, so forcing them open by sweating is a sovereign and 
universal cure for these disease-breeders. 

Sometimes the required perspiration is spontaneous. Chil- 
dren often sweat freely while asleep, awaking only to call for 
water. This should be considered a most favorable symp- 


torn; and the desired water should be freely administered 
till they wake up, when they should be washed off in salera- 
tus-water, followed by friction and brisk play, so as to keep 
it up. Yet care should be taken not to contract additional 

In fine, to break up colds, start the sweat, by what 
means it matters little, so that it is copious, protracted, and not 
followed by more cold. 


the regulation of the temperature by fire and clothing—* 
their kinds and amounts. 


Perspiration, besides thus unloading the system of disease, 
also serves to regulate the temperature of the body. The 
necessity of uniformity of temperature — neither too nigh nor 
too low — has already been explained ^° ; as has also the means 
by which it is generated. But it at times superabounds. 
When the system is full of carbon, if we exercise vigorously, 
so as to breathe freely and thereby introduce great quantities 
of oxygen into the system, we of course manufacture an undue 
supply especially in warm weather, when heat does not pass 
off readily. Now this extra heat must be evacuated, else it 
will melt the fat in the system, and relax and prostrate. This 
important evacuation of the surplus warmth is effected by 
perspiration as follows. All bodies absorb heat when passing 
from a dense medium to one that is more rare. Thus water, 
in passing into steam, takes up a great amount of heat, which 
it again gives off in returning back to water, on the well known 
chemical principle that all bodies give off heat when passing 
from a rarer medium to a denser. Here, again, water becomes 
a porter. An excess of heat aids the conversion of water into 
steam, which then takes up this surplus heat, carries it out of 
the system, and gives it ofT again while condensing back to 


water — a self-acting and most efficacious arrangement for 
effecting an indispensable end. 

This explains why it is that men can remain in ovens heated 
hot enough to cook meat, and long enough to bake it, without 
destroying life. They sweat out the surplus heat, or else 
their own flesh would also bake. 

But sometimes the system does not generate sufficient heat. 
This scarcity must be made up by some means or we must 
die ^°. This brings up for consideration 


The following letter to the author shows some of the con- 
sequences of a sparse supply of heat. 

" John Clark, a native of Connecticut, born more than a century 
ago, was peculiarly affected by cold weather. In the cool morn- 
ings of nearly eveiy month in the year, his hands would become 
benumbed and almost entirely useless, his tongue stiffened so that 
he could scarcely articulate, the muscles of his face contracted and 
stiffened, and one or both eyes closed in a very peculiar manner. 
This infirmity was hereditary." — Phrenological Journal, 1846,^. 

This was undoubtedly owing to defective lungs, and a 
consequent want of oxygen in the system. Or there might 
have been some defect in his digestion, by which a due supply 
of carbon was not extracted from his food. Many others are 
also troubled with being habitually cold, even in summer. 
This is the case with the author, though he is becoming less so 
yearly. Consumptive parents, and all predisposed to this dis- 
ease, also feel cold or chilly, and have cold hands and feet, 
and perhaps what is called goose-flesh on the skin. How can 
this be remedied ? 

First, and primarily, by ascertaining and removing its cause, 
which will almost always be found in deficiency of breath, 
occasioned by small lungs, or confinement, or a want of suf- 
ficient exercise to promote respiration. When this is the 
cause, the patient may easily perceive it in the fact that all 
additions to liis breathing add to his warmth. And the remedy 
is plain. He must breathe more. Nor can he be comforta- 
bly warm without it. Two other means are also resorted to 


in civic life to secure the required temperature. One of 
these is 


That fire is essential to human health and comfort is estab- 
lished by the ample provision for it found in nature. What 
she supplies, she intends man shall use. Besides being indis- 
pensable in many of the arts, as in smelting and casting metals, 
etc., no one vt^ill doubt that fire is useful as a means of animal 
warmth. When the body is perfectly healthy, vigorous exer- 
cise will probably supply all the heat required in the coldest 
of weather. Yet we often require to apply our minds in a 
sitting posture, as in writing, reading, listening to speakers, 
when there is not sufficient action to secure this heat, and 
when, therefore, fire is both comfortable and indispensable. 
In cases of exhaustion, sickness, infancy, etc., fire is necessary. 
But why argue the utility of fire ? As well attempt to prove 
that water is beneficial. 

Still, men rely far too much on external heat, and far too 
little on internal. Though we require fire, yet this alone can 
never keep us sufficiently warm. How hot, think you, must 
be the atmosphere to keep the body, inside as well as out, at 
the temperature of 98° ? Hot enough to burn the skin to a 
crisp. Try the experiment on a corpse. Fire is utterly 
powerless to keep us duly warm. Most of our heat, indeed 
all of it, must be generated within us. The use of fire is to 
keep us warm by retarding the escape of internal heat, not 
to actually infuse external heat into us. Those who cannot 
keep themselves warm by the process already described*^, 
can never keep warm at all ; because in and by the very act of 
warming a room, you prevent the manufacture of internal heat 
by rarefying the air, and, when the fire is in the room heated, 
by burning out much of its oxygen, so that the lungs cannot 
carry enough to the blood to support the required internal 
combustion ®^. External heat, therefore, so far from keeping 
us warm, actually prevents that warmth in the ratio of its 
intensity That is, the warmer we keep our rooms, the colder 
we must keep ourselves. All this, besides the smoke and 


noxious gases necessarily consequent on burning fuel, espe- 
cially coal. 

To put this matter on the reader's own experience. Hov/ 
many times in your lives, in weather so cold that you could 
not keep yourself warm in-doors, when compelled to drive out 
into the cold, have you so accelerated circulation and per- 
spiration as in a few minutes to be quite warm enough, though 
just before chilly by a hot fire ? And this natural warmth is 
so much more delightful than artificial heat. Out of doors is 
the place to keep thoroughly warm in cold weather. 

You sedentaries know no more about the back- woodsman's 
table luxuries, than he about your " city fixins," and the way he 
can beat you keeping warm in cold weather, notwithstanding 
your hard coal and air-tight stoves, can be known only by 
trying. If I were again young, and my constitution unim- 
paired, I would remain where there was fire no more than 
obliged to, and would never rely on it to warm my feet, or 
hands, but only on natural warmth. Nor would I accustom 
myself to mittens, except on extra occasions. 

Nor can those who generally occupy warm apartments 
well imagine how much more brisk, lively, buoyant, intense, 
and happy the feelings are, and how much more clear and 
vigorous all the intellectual operations, while one is kept warm 
by exercise in a cold day, than by sitting in a hot room ; nor 
how lax and listless, in comparison, are we rendered by arti- 
ficial heat. Abundance of exercise, respiration, and good food, 
is the great receipt for keeping comfortable in cold weather. 

The evils consequent on staying perpetually within doors 
in cold weather, and in hot rooms, are exposed too forcibly by 
our subject to require enlargement. Such can obtain only a 
small supply of oxygen, first, because the air they breathe is 
so rarefied by heat that a given bulk contains but little; 
secondly, because the fire has burnt out much of that little, 
thirdly, because they have breathed what little air there is 
over and over again, and thus loaded it with carbonic acid 
gas, and because they exercise so little that they secure but 
little action in their lungs. Such live slowly, yet are in- 
curring disease. 


Fire also creates carbonic acid gas ®^, which is of course 
inhaled into the lungs. Hence, those who occupy heated 
rooms, instead of carrying off the surplus already in the sys- 
tem, even take on additional supplies, especially if the fire is 
made of coal, and hence the blue veins and languid feelings 
of those who keep themselves housed up in winter. 


Are thus brought up for consideration. And here I protest 
against air-tight stoves in sitting rooms, because they prevent 
a renewal of the air by circulation, and thus effectually shut 
out the oxygen. Still air-tights are admissible in the kitchen, 
where fresh air is introduced by a frequent opening and 
shutting of doors. If you must be by a fire, at least have a 

Hence, none of these close stoves are the things for health. 
They all paralyze our mental and physical energies while life 
lasts, and also hasten its termination. Give me the old-fash- 
ioned fire-place, or an open Franklin, or else a new kind of 
stove made wholly of brick called the Russian stove, which, 
for warming sitting-rooms, is probably superior to any other 
in use, as it certainly is much less expensive in construction, 
and more ecoviomical in fuel. I never imagined till I used it, 
how much heat a little wood gives out. It also makes a re- 
markably even heat. 


Let not the preceding remarks be construed to mean that 
we had better remain cold than warm ourselves by fire. Heat 
tnust be had at some rate ^°. Only a slight reduction of 
temperature induces those colds just shown to be so fatal, and 
also chills the blood, intercepts circulation, and would soon 
occasion death. Infinitely better artificial heat than cold. 
Yet even in sickness, when the circulation is low, better pro- 
v^oke as much natural heat by friction and clothing and rely 
as little on fire as possible. Invalids, of all others, require 
oxygen, which artificial heat always and necessarily reduces. 
'v pity those who are obliged to resort to fire for warmth. They 


may live along from hand to mouth as to health, yet can never 
know the real luxury of a comfortable temperature. Such 
should by all means practice those directions for enhancing 
the circulation to be given hereafter. 


That man is constituted to wearsome kind of external cover- 
ing, cannot for a moment be questioned. Otherwise, he would 
have been furnished with a heavy coating, like what grows 
on animals. Man was designed to inhabit the whole earth, 
the frozen regions of the north and south included ; where, 
without some external protection against the extreme rigor of 
winter he must inevitably freeze to death. Such protection, 
though it does not generate heat, retards its escape, and thus 
aids in that indispensable process of heating the body ®°. 
And by varying the quantity of clothing as the weather changes, 
we can greatly facilitate that uniformity of temperature so 
indispensable. This introduces for consideration the 


Though clothing is thus necessary, yet by far too much is 
now worn. The Indian, even in colder latitudes than ours, 
keeps perfectly comfortable in the coldest weather, with only 
his blanket thrown loosely around his shoulders — but one 
thickness, and much of his body exposed directly to the cold. 
Yet he is far more comfortable with this sparse supply, than 
we with a quarter of a score of thicknesses, and cotton batting 
to boot. We need clothing, yet should rely upon it only as a 
partial regulator of heat, not as our principal warming agent. 
Clothes, by retarding the escape of heat, cause us to require 
less food and breath, that is, compensate for the latter. 
Hence, those who cannot get enough to eat, should dress extra 
warm, while those who can eat, should dress light. Extra 
clothing also relaxes the skin, and prevents the generation of 
animal heat, and this leaves the system colder instead of 
warmer. If I were again young and robust, I should habit- 
uate myself to but little clothing, even in winter, and am 
wearing less and less every winter — thus relying for warmth 


more on nature and less on art. Yet I would not change too 
suddenly. Better too much, than too little. Keep warm we 
must ; and in leaving off clothing I would augment the internal 
manufacture of heat by increased exercise and breathing. 

As clothing is worn partly to regulate the temperature, its 
quantity of course requires to be greater in cold weather than 
warm. Yet I protest against this varying its quantity with 
every variation of the weather. Nature has rendered this un- 
necessary by a provision for enhancing the internal heat in 
the exact ratio of the external cold ^. This alone shows that 
we should rely on nature's provision for warmth, instead of on 
art — should breathe and eat more as the weather becomes 
colder, instead of dress warmer. 

Yet invalids, and those whose circulation is defective, may 
require such variation. This pernicious habit of civic life 
in relying so much on clothes, however, modifies our advice. 
As most of us now are, they benefit, yet we should diminish 
its necessity by enhancing the internal heat. 


Few errors are greater than that prevailing custom of 
wrapping babes up in blanket after blanket as a protection 
against cold. From the first they are literally smothered 
with clothing. Besides keeping the nursery quite too warm, 
the young stranger must have on several thicknesses of its 
own clothes, and then be covered up most of the time under 
several thicknesses of bed-clothes with only a small breathing- 
hole left. It is just as you habituate them, with this difference, 
that shutting in the animal heat thus, relaxes the skin and 
paves the way for those colds seen to be so injurious ^°^. 
Extra clothing promotes colds instead of preventing them. I 
would not have them cold ; yet of this, there is little danger. 
That same self-acting regulator of heat already seen to exist 
in adults °*, exists also in them. Rely on this, and do not 
engender disease by extra clothing. They need more clothing 
than adults, because animal heat is at its minimum at birth, 
and should not be carried out much, yet they are often well 
nigh ruined by being over-dressed. 


After children have become three years old, they generate 
animal heat very rapidly, if allowed to play, and therefore 
require but little clothing. Give them the liberty of the yard, 
and I'll risk their getting cold, unless they have previously 
been nursed to death. Mothers, be assured that you are by 
far too tender of your children in this respect — that you 
almost kill them — and often quite — by extra dressing. And 
this muffling up boys with comforts around their necks, in 
addition to neck wrappers, caps pulled down tight around 
their ears, warm mittens, warm over-clothes, a cart-load of bed- 
clothes, and the like, is consummate folly When boys are 
running out and in, they will keep warm without all this fuss, 
and doubly so when they are walking ^^*. But we shall 
discuss this whole subject of children's dress in our proposed 
work on "Maternity." 


Whether we should increase and diminish our clothing 
according to the temperature of the weather, we should 
change it often from motives of health and cleanliness. 
Since perspiration brings out a great amount of corrupt and 
poisonous matter through the skin ^°^, most of which is absorbed 
by the under clothes, of course they should be changed and 
cleansed frequently. The necessity of this will be rendered 
apparent by the following experiment. Take off and roll up 
your under garment, and wash your body, and the unpleasant 
sensations consequent on putting it on again, show how much 
corruption it has imbibed, and how repugnant it is to a clean 
skin. The same sensations are experienced when you return 
to bed after having been up a ^ew minutes. This also shows 
the importance of airing and frequently changing the bed- 
clothes. Nor should we sleep in the under garments worn 

Children's under clothes, in particular, should be changed 
every day or two, and also every night, because they perspire 
more copiously even than adults. 



That, considering the weak state of the skin generally 
in civic life, flannel under garments for cold weather may be 
advisable, is admitted ; yet, in cases where the circulation 
is vigorous, its utility is doubtful. My practice is to postpone 
putting it on later and later every fall, and to discontinue its 
use earlier and earlier every spring. It confines the corrupt 
matter, transmitted through the skin, too closely around the 
body^^^, that same principle which retains the heat also re- 
taining the poisonous effluvia. Hence it should be changed 
and washed often, as well as aired at night. This wearing 
flannels a week or ten days without washing, is doubly pre- 
nicious. Canton flannel I think preferable. 

Silk is highly extolled for under garments. I have worn it 
with comfort if not with profit. Yet, like flannel, it retains 
the perspiration and effluvia of the body. My own convictions 
favor cotton as furnishing the best material for under and 
summer clothing. 


That nature designed us to wear something on the head, at 
least as a bandage to keep the hair in place, will not be doubted, 
but has she not already dressed it in a warm and beautiful 
garment of hair — one abundantly sufficient to secure the 
required warmth, at the same time allowing perspiration to 
escape freely ? This, hats and caps prevent, and are, there- 
fore, objectionable. The turban is undoubtedly preferable. 
Yet I for one prefer to go bareheaded especially in overcast 
weather. Even rain upon it is particularly agreeable, per- 
haps on account of its preternatural heat. Be it remembered 
that whatever oppresses the head thereby blunts thought and 
stifles feeling. 

The mode, of dressing the neck is scarcely less important. 
A tight neck dress is highly injurious, because it retards the 
flow of blood to and from the head. This perpetual strangula- 
tion I cannot endure. I never wear stocks, and regard them 
as a great evil. Anything but being choked. At home I 
wear no stock or neck-kerchief, and should never do so 


abroad if I could always explain my motives for the omission. 
Tight neck dresses also cause bronchital affections. 

This confinement of the neck also intercepts the escape 
of the perspiration and effluvia which the heat of the body 
causes to rise, but which any bandage around the neck hedges 
in, and retains around the person and in the clothes only to 
vitiate and disease. The Byronic fashion of dressing the 
neck is preferable to all others. The true plan ought to be to 
allow the beard to grow and thus protect the neck and 
chest. This appendage was not created for naught, and 
cannot be cut off with impunity. 

That a close neck dress is not required on the score of 
warmth, is evinced by the open mode of dressing the female 
neck. If woman can keep warm without choking up her 
neck with tight bandages, surely robust man can. 


The hands should be kept warm, yet this can be done 
without mittens — and in general better without than with. 
Rely on natural heat more, and artificial less. Put them on late 
in the fall, and only in extreme cases, and when they become 
cold, whip them till they thaw out. And this wearing gloves 
in summer is perfectly ridiculous. As though human fabrics 
were more beautiful than Divine ! As though hands were 
homely, and gloves necessary to hide their deformity ! This is 
doubly true of female hands. To encase them in gloves is to 
hide their beauty. I should feel ashamed to acknowledge, 
practically, that mine were too homely to be seen. This 
fashion is scarcely less intrinsically ridiculous than that of 
wearing the hair over the ears. How extra handsome heads 
without ears, or with them hid from vision ! You sickly ex- 
quisites may cover up hands and ears too if you like — may 
hide all your beauties, or supplant them by deformities — but 
to my taste, nature is infinitely more beautiful than art. 

Uncovered arms, by allowing the free escape of waste 
matter, greatly promote comfort and health. In his younger 
days, the author wore his sleeves rolled up in warm weather, 
and noticed that this custom greatly promoted his comfort. 


Franklin describes his " air bath" as a great luxury. The 
free access of the air to the skin is pre-eminently beneficial, 
and the more surface thus exposed compatible with warmth the 

125. WARM FEET. 

The proper regimen for these convenient articles of service 
is very important. And the more so, because whatever injury 
ihey sustain is speedily diffused throughout the system. Cold 
or wet feet are much more prolific of colds and their conse- 
quences ^°^ than almost any other cause ; while keeping them 
warm and healthy generally protects the system from disease. 
That old saw — " Keep the head cool and feet warm," is full of 
practical wisdom. In fact, cold feet induce headache by a 
partial congestion of the brain, nor is there a greater cure for 
headache than rubbing, washing, soaking, or toasting the feet, 
because they draw off that extra rush of blood to the head 
which caused it to ache. 

To secure due warmth in the feet, wash and rub them 
OFTEN. Few things are more promotive of health than the 
daily ablution of the feet. It will nearly double the health 
of every reader who will practice it, as well as unspeakably 
enhance his serenity of mind. Jefferson attributed his uni- 
form health, even in advanced life, more to this one practice 
than to any other. Nor does running in the water in summer 
do children the damage apprehended. Let every child be 
brought up to wash the feet, every night on retiring, in cold wa- 
ter. Than the prevailing idea that cold water applied to the feet 
is injurious, nothing is more erroneous or foolish. Is it poison- 
ous ? Nor are wet feet, if warm, the precursors of the winding 
sheet, though cold wet feet often breed disease. Keep up the 
circulation in them, and they may be wet half the time with- 
out injury ! The great evil is not in wet, but cold feet, of 
which the judicious application of cold water is the greatest 
known preventive. 

The proper dressing of the feet so as to secure the required 
warmth, then, becomes a matter of great importance. Nor 
should reliance for keeping them warm be placed on shoes, 


stockings, and fires. The principles of fires and dress already- 
applied to the body apply equally to the feet. Almost exclu- 
sive reliance should be placed on vigorous circulation, as se- 
cured by exercise and washing, not on stockings, boots, and 
over-shoes. In fact, the latter generally impair circulation, 
and thus induce coldness of the feet instead of warmth. In 
general, the lighter dressed the warmer, provided they have 
sufficient exercise. 

Stockings are decidedly injurious especially on young chil- 
dren. They need mittens quite as much. Stockings retain 
the perspiration, and this invites cold. Experiment will 
satisfy all who try it, that feet keep warmer without than with 
them. Try it, and you will be surprised at the result. A 
friend of mine was wakened early one cold winter morning, 
in 1844, to take some travelling conveyance which could 
not wait, and unable to find both his stockings, started off with 
but one, intending to get a pair at the first stopping-place. 
But, finding the unstockinged foot the warmest, he postponed 
several days, when, still finding it the warmest, he discontinued 
the use of the other, and has done so ever since, and says 
his feet are much warmer for it. All similar trials that have 
come to the author's knowledge have resulted similarly. Yet 
it is recommended that the experiment be commenced in mid- 
summer, and that the feet be washed daily. These views 
may seem strange, because contrary to custom ; but try 
before you condemn. 

Heating the feet with brick, stones, and the like, is also in- 
jurious. Warm them by walking, stamping, and the like, in- 
stead. And in riding, by far the best plan of warming them 
is to get out and walk or run. 

Going barefoot in summer is not, then, so very injurious 
to children. All love it dearly, and this is nature's warrant 
for its utility'. The soles of their feet are furnished from 
birth with a thick epidermis, which going barefoot renders 
very thick and tough, and abundantly protects them from 
injury, of which all poor and barefoot subjects are examples. 
Nor will it give them cold, but it will prevent sickness by 
promoting health and circulation in the feet. 


" But how they look barefoot !" exclaim fastidious mothers. 
What was said of covering the hands '^^ applies equally to 
dressing the feet. If bare feet were fashionable, they would 
look no worse than bare faces or hands. The Persians esteem 
uncovered faces as ugly looking as we do uncovered feet ; 
whereas feet are quite ornamental as well as useful, and chil- 
dren look almost as bad with them muffled up in summer as 
i,\dies do with covered ears. Still, " every one to his liking." 

" But unconfined feet grow large, broad, and homely," it is 
farther objected. Then do go to China and done with it. As 
though cramping the feet, and preventing their natural develop- 
ment, increases their beauty ! As though you could improve 
on nature, and correct her deformities by art ! My philosophy 
is t'j let nature " have her perfect work," yet you who choose 
ma/ warp and cramp her to your liking. 




All that lives must sleep. Even the entire vegetable king- 
dom sleeps profoundly in winter to wake up with renewed 
vigor on the opening of spring. All animal life, from snail to 
man, must also rest or die. Nature compels it, nor can any 
human will or effort forego it. Nor can we be better em- 
ployed than when thus renewing our vital energies.* 

This imperious demand for sleep indicates a function ab- 
solutely indispensable to the continuance of life. What that 
office is, science has not yet told us for certain, yet, in all 
probability, it secures assimilation or the appropriation of the 

* I saw a Scotchman in Boston, in 1843, who claimed, no doubt sin- 
cerely, to have slept but once in seven years, yet I saw him assume an 
easy posture, close his eyes, nod, and appear for all the world just as 
others do when they doze. 


materials of life, in their respective formations. This view is 
supported by the fact that we grow larger during sleep, and 
taller by about half an inch, whereas we grow that much 
shorter during the day. The fact that growing children sleep 
very soundly and a great deal, mature age less, and old age 
still less — their sleep not being sound — also confirms this 
view. But, be its office what it may, its necessity is absolute. 


This requisition for sleep of course requires sleep enough. 
Its deficiency is scarcely less injurious than deficiency of food. 
Yet we can over sleep as well as over eat and exercise. The 
due medium is the great desideratum. Physiologists differ as to 
the length of time required, and well they may, because dif- 
ferent persons require different lengths, according to circum- 
stances. Yet there is a right length, nor is its determination 

The time spent in sleep furnishes no criterion of its amount, 
because some sleep more in an hour than others in a night. 
Some may doze away half their time, yet be starved for rest, 
while others sleep abundantly in four or five hours — all de- 
pending on its soundness and previous fatigue. 

While the constitution remains unimpaired, the sleep is 
sound and refreshing, so that five or six hours in the twenty- 
four are probably sufficient, yet broken constitutions require 
eight, or even more. Over-eating also requires additional 
sleep, as does also excessive toil of any kind, of which all 
are experimental witnesses. All disorders of the stomach and 
nervous system also require additional time for sleep, because 
then it is less refreshing. Hence, different persons require to 
sleep different lengths of time, and even the same person un- 
der different circumstances. Exceedingly active persons — 
those who, when awake, are wide awake, also require to sleep 
longer than those who are half asleep when awake. Conva- 
lescents also require to sleep more than usual. Each must, 
therefore, judge for himself, and while all should sleep enough, 
none should sleep too much. Over-sleeping is as injurious as 
gluttony. How stupid, palsied, and good-for-nothing it ren- 

212 SLEEP. 

ders us, as all can doubtless testify. Our own appetite foi 
sleep, as for food ^, unperverted, furnishes us with an infallible 
guide. Nature will rouse us to consciousness when our sleep 
is out. And when thus aroused, all should spring at once 
from their couch. To hug the pillow, half asleep and half 
awake, is most pernicious, and, like over-eating, only craves 
the more, besides too often inducing, or at least facilitating, 
impure feelings, which too often result in vice. Would that 
I could duly impress, especially on youth, the importance of 
rising immediately on waking. 


That nature clearly indicates night as the best time for 
sleep is too apparent to require proof. It is doubtful whether 
we should sleep from evening to morning twilight, but what 
time we do sleep, should be in the night, except in cases to be 
mentioned. This sitting up half the night and sleeping half 
the next day, reverses the ordinances of nature, and must 
therefore prove injurious. Extraordinaries excepted all should 
rise with the break of day, and especially children, who 
should retire soon after the hens do. Better sleep mornings 
than too little, yet either retire the earlier, so as to have your 
sleep out at least before sun-rise, or else take a short nap in 
the middle of the day. Those whose previously formed habits 
prevent their going to sleep early, even when they go to 
bed, should break up such habits. " Early to bed and early 
to rise,'' is the motto for health. The customs of society 
may sometimes require morning sleep by preventing a due 
degree of night sleep. Thus the author, after lecturing, often 
finds his nerves so excited that, though he retires, the blood 
courses through his throbbing brain so as utterly to defy 
sleep, and he may as well write while this fever lasts, to com- 
pensate for which he is obliged to sleep mornings, which, how- 
ever, he never does at home. The fact is, that lectures and 
public meetings should be held daytimes instead of evenings. 



But some cannot obtain sleep enough. This is partially 
true of the author, especially after lecturing and writing. 
Any preternatural excitement of the brain and nervous sys- 
tem prevents a due supply of this commodity. So do mental 
troubles, over exertion, disordered stomachs, and disease of 
any kind. In all these and kindred cases, sleep should be 
promoted. This can be done by previous preparation. As, 
to enjoy our meals, we must first become hungry, and also 
prepare them, so we should sharpen up our sleeping appetite, 
and also prepare ourselves, mentally and physically, for this 
delightful repast and grand restorer of exhausted energy. 
This can be facilitated by a due degree of action, especially 
muscular. To overdo causes wakefulness, yet a due quan- 
tity of muscular exercise every day of our lives is eminently 
promotive of refreshing sleep at night. And those who would 
enjoy sleep must exercise. Especially those whose wakeful- 
ness is caused by nervous or cerebral excitability. Become 
comfortably tired, and you are prepared for refreshing sleep. 

Such should also avoid excitement, and seek quiet in the 
evening before retiring. In short, reduce that cerebral action 
which keeps you awake, directions for doing which will be 
given hereafter. 

The wakeful should especially go to bed soon after becom- 
ing drowsy, else they become extra wakeful, and remain so 
perhaps much of the night. This direction is particularly 
important. Yet going to bed only to lay awake, or before we 
are prepared for sleep, is also bad. We should try to go to 
sleep as soon as possible after going to bed. 

Amusements, if of a pleasing, soothing kind, also promote 
sleep. Especially domestic amusements, as playing with 
children, conversing with friends, and the like. But exhilarat- 
ing, exciting amusements intercept sleep. Especially promo- 
tive of sleep is a quiet, happy frame of mind, while unpleas- 
ant feelings, especially anger, retard it, so that the former 
should always be cultivated, and the latter avoided, both in 
ourselves and in children. " Let not the sun go down upon 
your wrath," is doubtless founded in this physiological law. 

214 SLEEP. 

Hence, to induce children to have a good play or frolic just 
before going to bed, is an excellent practice. 

Religious contemplations and devotional exercises are espe- 
cially promotive of sleep. They diffuse over the soul a de- 
lightful quiet, a heavenly calmness, which invite sleep. A 
physician once directed a wakeful patient to think on God, 
when he would go to sleep but could not, and the patient said 
that for forty years, whenever wakefulness returned, follow- 
ing this prescription soon lulled him to sleep. Family devo- 
tion induces a similar preparation. 

Moderate fasting promotes sleep, while a full stomach re- 
tards it. The English think differently and eat on retiring ; 
but if a full storhach facilitated sleep, we should become hun- 
gry when we became sleepy, whereas sleep diminishes appe- 
tite. In fact, we eat the less when we sleep abundantly, and 
the more the less we sleep. 

Invalids, and the sick in particular, require to sleep much. 
As a restorative means, medicines bear no comparison with 
sleep. Hence, wakening the sick to give drugs is consum- 
mate folly. Nor is there a better sign of a favorable turn of 
disease than disposition to sleep, provided it be natural. A 
state of mere stupidity is a bad sign, but this differs materially 
from natural sleep. 

Invalids and the wakeful should also guard assiduously 
against being disturbed when once asleep, till fully rested, on 
pain of subsequent wakefulness. Many weakly mothers have 
ruined their health and lost their lives by crying children. 
Yet that they can so train them as to sleep soundly all night, 
from infancy to maturity, will be fully shown in the author's 
work on " Maternity." See also ''^°. 

A day nap is also most excellent for invalids, children, and 
all who do not or cannot obtain sleep enough during the night. 
A mere doze is to such most refreshing. If you cannot get to 
sleep the first few times, keep trying till you can, and you 
will soon form the habit. And even when you do not lose 
yourself, the rest will be beneficial. 

The best posture for promoting sleep is doubtless recumbent 
on the back, because it facilitates respiration. Laying wholly 


on either side often causes the internal organs and even brain 
to sag and remain more on that side, which is evidently inju- 
rious. Habituate children to sleep on the back, and if on 
either «ide, also on both. 

A slight elevation of the head may be beneficial, yet habit 
aside, the horizontal posture for both head and body is proba- 
bly the best. 


On what should we sleep ? Something hard. Mat- 
tresses are preferable to feathers because not so hard as 
to give pain, nor so soft as to enervate. Nor are straw 
beds any too hard. Feather beds are decidedly unwhole- 
some, especially in summer. Being animal matter, they are 
subject to decay, and hence their unpleasant odor, which of 
course vitiates the air and breeds disease. They are also 
relaxing and weakening. Sunk into a pile of feathers, per^ 
spiration cannot escape, sleep is disturbed and does not refresh, 
and we awaken with a headache, feel prostrate, and unfitted 
for pleasure or business. Not so with mattresses. Of these, 
those made of cotton are doubtless the best. Mr. Ellsworth, 
in his patent report, says they are " the cheapest, most coir.- 
fortable, and most healthy material for bedding known to the 
civilized world. Vermin will not abide in them : unlike hair 
and wool, they contain no grease, do not become stale or ac- 
quire an unpleasant odor like feathers, besides being in many 
cases medicinal — raw cotton worn on parts affected with 
rheumatism being known to be one of the best and most effec- 
tual cures." He also considers them as cheap again as any 
other kind, as seen in the following estimate : — 

Cost of Hair Mattress at 50c. pr. lb. 30a40 lbs. from 15 to $20 

" Wool " 30c. " " cost '* 11 to 12 

" Feathers " 30c. "40 12 

" Moss " — " " " " 12 

" Cotton " 30c. " 8c. with cost of ticking, at 12.| cts. 

per yard, labor, thread, etc. $6 65 

The habit of sleeping under a stack of bed-clothes is also 
equally as pernicious as a superabundance of clothes by day. 
They prevent sleep and retain about the body all the corrupt 


effluvia it throws off, and which should be allowed to escape. 
None should sleep cold, yet all should habituate themselves to 
as little as possible and keep comfortable. And during the 
day, these clothes should be thrown upon the backs of chairs 
and thoroughly aired in a draft till towards evening. 

The practice of covering up the head under the bed-clothes 
is most pernicious. Almost as well not breathe at all as to 
breathe over and over again the same foetid air ^°\ 



As important a portion of the human structure as this 
deserves a passing notice, yet we shall not dwell. Of the 
general function of some of the larger glands, as the salivary 
glands, liver, pancreas, messentary, etc., mention has already 
been made. Their respective functions are indispensable to 
life, as is the action of the kidneys in secreting from the ar- 
terial blood that urea manufactured in the process of life, the 
superabundance of which arrests the vital process. 

These glands are formed, somewhat like the lungs, with 
two sets of capillary vessels, the one for the ramification of 
blood, and the other for secreting their respective materials. 
The accompanying engraving furnishes a faint illustration of the 
arterial structure of a gland. Both the venous and secretory 
structures are similar, all their respective ramifications being 
almost infinitely minute. 

The various secretions made in these glandular ramifications 
are emptied into ducts, and these into one another till all are 
emptied into one common reservoir and carried to their place 
of destination. 


Though all parts of the system reciprocate their several 
conditions with all the others, yet this reciprocity seems to be 


No. 15. The Structure of a Gland. 

more intimate between the glandular functions and the 
cerebral than between any of the others. Every change and 
phrase of mental action produces a corresponding change in 
the glandular action. Thus, thinking of food "makes the 
mouth water," that is, excites a copious secretion and discharge 
of the salivary glands ; sadness retards, and pleasurable emo- 
tions augment the action of the liver ; the former accelerating 
and the latter preventing digestion ; grief provokes a copious 
secretion of the lachrymal glands in the form of tears, and 
sudden joy sometimes has a similar effect ; and thus of the 
others. But the most conspicuous illustration of this principle 
will be found mentioned in "Love and Parentage," and 
applies to the secretion employed as the messenger of life. 

The great practical lesson taught by this reciprocity is the 
importance of keeping the mind in that calm and happy frame 
which promotes glandular secretion, and thereby health. 


Also deserve notice in this connection. They are stationed 
throughout the entire system for the double purpose of taking 
up foreign matters, such as biles and other tumors which do 
not come to a head, and also any deposites of fat which may 
be found in the system when wanted by it. The fat of the 
body is only a deposite of its surplus carbon, stored up against 


a time of want. When imperfect digestion or a deficiency of 
food renders the supply of carbon unequal, for the time being, 
to the demand, these absorbents take up this fat and empty it 
into the chyle-duct and so into the circulation, and hence the 
falling away of the sick or starving. When this fat or store 
of carbon is exhausted by protracted hunger or stomatic disease, 
these absorbents take up even muscle and cellular tissue and 
empty them also into the circulation, and hence the extreme 
emaciation of the starving, of consumptives, dyspeptics, and 
the sick generally. This provision against any deficiency of 
nutrition is inimitably beautiful and useful. 





Thus far we have seen by what instrumentalities vitality is 
supplied. Yet all this ingenious arrangement for its supply 
would have been useless but for some means for effecting its 
expenditure. This vitality may be considered the raw mate- 
rial of life — the stock in trade of the mechanic. It next re- 
quires to be WORKED UP into the various ends of life or it will 
avail nothing. For this expenditure nature has made provi- 
sions quite as ample as for its supply. This expenditure con- 
sists in two things, motion and the mentality, sensation in- 
cluded. To subserve these two ends the entire human struc- 
ture, the inimitably beautiful vital apparatus included, was 
created. Without motion, man must always have remained 
in one place, like the oyster, and been incapable of speaking^ 
eating, or doing a single thing, and without mind and sensation 
he would have been incapable of experiencing one single emo- 


tion of pleasure or pain. But behold and admire the number 
and variety of functions effected through their instrumentality ! 
In fact they embody all the ends of his being. 

To effect these great ends, organs adapted thereto are ne- 
cessary. These organs consist of the osseous, muscular, ner- 
vous, and cerebral systems, to the discussion of which our sub- 
ject thus brings us. 


As but for the timbers of buildings nothing would support 
their superstructure, so, but for some kindred frame-work 
within the body both to keep the various organs in place, and 
to form, as it were, timbers or fulcrums for the attachment of 
the muscles, motion would be impossible ; and the first pro- 
vision of a motive apparatus consists in devising these sup- 
porting timbers. With such a provision nature has furnished 
the human body in the form of bones. With their general 
appearance all must be familiar. They are composed princi- 
pally of two substances, animal and earthy, into the latter of 
which lime and phosphorus enter — the former imparting life, 
and the latter firmness. In youth the animal predominates, 
and hence the greater flexibility of young bones. This also 
prevents fractures, aids to break the falls of children, and fa- 
cilitates growth, it being the first part of the bone formed, 
as seen in the tender cartilage of chicken bones. But as age 
advances, the earthy materials of bones predominate over the 
animal, because the muscles, having become stronger, require 
augmented stiffness to prevent their bending, and because ex- 
perience enables us to guard against falls. As the earthy 
predominates the bones become more and more brittle — and 
hence the greater frangibility of the bones of the aged — till, 
in a certain disease which consumes their animal matter, they 
break from slight strains ; whereas in another disease which 
consumes their earthy matter, but leaves their gelatinous, they 
can be bent any way, and even tied up in knots without 
breaking ; yet in this case motion is impossible. These bones 
are also ramified with blood-vessels and nerves, the former to 
supply growth and vitality, and the latter to impart sensation. 


But these bones are not formed in one solid, continuous stick, 
but number about 252, united by joints, and held together by- 
powerful ligaments. At these joints, the bones enlarge, and 
become spongy— though the weight of their ends is not great- 
er than of their middle portions — which, together with an 
elastic plating between them serves to deaden the blows 
of a fall or jump upon the feet, so that, before it reaches the 
brain, it is comparatively obviated, and that delicate structure 
saved from contusion. Throw 200 pounds down ten feet — a 
distance we often jump — and see how hard it strikes. Not so 
with man. A membrane is also stationed at each joint to se- 
crete an oleaginous substance more slippery than oil, to lubri- 
cate these joints, and prevent their wearing out by the power- 
ful and almost perpetual friction occasioned by muscular con- 
traction and the weight of the body, and to facilitate the ease 
of motion. 

Besides those powerful cords which tie the bones together at 
their joints, so as to resist their tendency, when the muscles 
contract powerfully upon them, to slip past each other, as in 
sprains and dislocations — the evils of which some of us may 
have experienced — they are fitted into one another in the form 
of HINGES — a ridge in one exactly fitting to a corresponding 
depression in the other — and of ball and socket joints, as in 
those of the hips and shoulders, where a ball in one fits exactly 
into a socket in the other, so as to allow motion in all direc- 

These bones are not scattered about at random, but simi- 
larly formed bones are always found in similar positions, ex- 
actly fitted to subserve their respective ends. Thus attached 
they constitute the human skeleton or framework of the body, 
as represented in the accompanying engraving, which, with 
the description is copied from A. Combe. 

*' The TRUNK, as will be seen from the annexed cut, consists of 
the SPINE a a, the ribs r r, the sternum x, and the pelvis 5 s. 
The spine, vertebral column, or back-bone a a, which supports all 
the upper parts, is a very remarkable piece of mechanism. It is 
composed in all of twenty-four separate bones, called vertebr-E, 
from the Latin word vertere to turn, as the body turns upon 
them as on a pivot. Of these, seven, called cervical vertebrae, 



belong to the neck; twelve, connected with the ribs, and called 
DORSAL, to the back ; and five, called lumbar, to the loins. The 
base of the column rests on the sacrum w, which is closely com- 

No. 16. The Skeleton. 

pacted between the bones of the pelvis s s. The vertebrae are 
firmly bound to each other in such a way as to admit of flexion and 
extension and a certain degree of rotation, while, by their solidity 
and firm attachment to each other, great strength is secured. Some 
conception of this strength may be formed, when we consider the 
enormous loads which some athletic men are able to carry on their 
shoulders, or raise in their hands ; the whole weight of which is 
necessarily borne by the vertebrae of the loins. As the space^oc- 


cupied by the abdomen gives large outward dimensions to this re- 
gion of the body, it is only upon reflection that we perceive that the 
whole force exerted by the human frame in its most strenuous ef- 
forts centers in the bony column we are now examining. 

" While the smooth or rounded forepart or body of the vertebrae 
affords support to the superincumbent parts, the projecting ridge 
behind, and rugged processes at the sides, combine with it to form 
a large tube or canal, extending from the top to the bottom of the 
column, and in which the spinal marrow is contained and protected. 
Between each of the vertebrae a thick compressible cushion of car- 
tilage and ligament is interposed, which serves the triple purpose of 
uniting the bones to each other, of diminishing and diffusing shocks 
received in walking or leaping, and of admitting a greater extent of 
motion than if the bones were in more immediate contact. 

" The ribs r r, twelve in number on each side, are attached by 
their heads to the spine, and by their other (cartilaginous) extremi- 
ties to the STERNUM or breast-bone x. The seven uppermost are 
called true ribs, because each of them is connected directly with the 
sternum, by means of a separate cartilage. The five lower ribs are 
called FALSE, because one or two of them are loose at one end, and 
the cartilages of the rest run into each other, instead of being sepa- 
rately prolonged to the breast-bone. The use of the ribs is to form 
the cavity of the chest for the reception and protection of the lungs, 
heart, and great blood-vessels, and to assist in respiration by their 
alternate rising and falling. This action enlarges and diminishes 
by turns the size of the chest and the capacity of the lungs. 

" The PELVIS s s, is formed by the broad flat bones which support 
the bowels, and serve for the articulation of the thigh. A general 
notion of their appearance and uses may be obtained from inspec- 
tion of the cut, which, however, does not represent with perfect 
accuracy the minuter structure. 

" The bones of the upper extremities are, the scapula or 
shoulder-blade ; the clavicle or collar-bone y ; the humerus or 
arm-bone b ; the radius d, and ulna e, or bones of the forearm ; 
and the small carpal and metacarpal bones/ and phalanges g, 
forming the wrist, hand, and fingers. 

" The SCAPULA is the broad flat bone lying at the upper part of the 
back, familiarly known as the shoulder-blade, and so troublesome to 
many young ladies by its unseemly projection. ]t serves to con- 
nect the arm with the trunk of the body, and gives origin to many 
of the muscles by which the former is put in motion. The collar- 
bone y, extends from the breast-bone outwai'ds to the scapula. Its 
chief use is to prevent the arms from falling forward in front of the 
body ; and hence it is wanting in the lower animals, whose superior 
extremities are much closer to each other than those of man. 

" The HUMERUS or arm-bone b is adapted by a kind of ball and 
socket joint to a corresponding suiface in the scapula, and hence 
enjoys grefit latitude of motion, and, from the shallowness of the re- 
ceptacle, is somewhat liable to dislocation. The radius and ulna 
d e constituting the forenrm, are connected with the humerus by a 


hinge-like joint, which admits readily of flexron and extension, but 
not of rotation ; and as the articulation is of a peculiar construction, 
it is rarely dislocated. The movements of pronation and supina- 
tion, or turning round the hand, aj-e etiected, not by the elbow joint, 
but by the radius d moving upon the ulna c, by means of joints 
formed for this purpose. The wrist and finger-joints are too com- 
plicated to admit of explanation here. 

" The lower extremities consist of the os femoris or thigh-bone 
i ; the patella or knee-pan i; the tibia m, and fibula 7i, or leg 
bones ; and the tarsal and metatarsal bones o, and phalanges 
p, composing the ankle, foot, and toes. 

" The thigh-bone i is articulated by means of a large round head 
deeply sunk into a corresponding hollow in the pelvis at h ; free- 
dom of motion being thus combined with great security. The 
thigh may be moved backwards and forwards as in walking ; and 
also outwards and inwards, as when sitting on horseback, or with 
the legs crossed. The socket being much deeper than that of the 
shoulder-joint, the thigh-bone has not the same range of motion as 
the humerus, but it has proportionally greater security. 

" The patella or knee-pan I is well known. It is a small bone 
constituting the projection of the knee. It increases the power of 
the muscles which extend the leg, and protects the front of the 
knee-joint. The tibia 7?? is the principal bone of the leg, and is the 
•only one articulated with that of the thigh. Its lower end forms 
the projection at the inner ankle. The fibula n is the long slender 
bone at the outer side of the leg, the lower end of which forms the 
outer ankle. The tibia and fibula both contribute to the forma- 
tion of the ankle-joint, which, like that of the knee, is almost limited 
to flexion and extension." 





Yet this beautiful structure of bones and joints every way 
so perfectly adapted to serve as a foundation for the motive 
apparatus, would be as inert as so many sticks but for something 
like ROPES and pulleys to put them in motion. These means 
are supplied by muscles. They lie beneath the skin, upon and 
around the bones, and constitute the red meat of animals and 
man. Every human being is endowed with some 527, of all 
required shapes and sizes, exactly adapted to produce those 


innumerable and most powerful motions of which man is 
capable. They over-lap, under-lay, and interweave each 
other in all conceivable ways, and are inclosed in a smooth 
peritoneal membrane which allows them to slide upon each 
other without friction ; else their powerful contraction would 
soon wer^r them into shreds. They are composed of innu- 
merable strings or fibres bound together into one common 
bundle, the contracting or shortening of which results in mo- 
tion. Indeed, this contractile power constitutes their sole 
function, and is effected by an expenditure of vital force. And 
as one end of these several muscles is attached to one bone 
and the other to another across a joint, this contraction moves 
one or the other of these bones, and of course produces mo- 
tion. This is illustrated more fully in the accompanying en- 
graving and description. 

No. 17. The Muscles of the Arm. 

The figure represents the bones of the arm and hand, having all 
the soft parts dissected off, except one muscle O B I, of which the 
function is to bend the arm. O the origin of the muscle. B the 
belly. I the insertion. T T the tendons. S the shoulder-joint. 
E the elbow. When the belly contracts, the lower extremity of 
the muscle I, is brought nearer to the origin or fixed point O, and 
by thus bending the arm at the elbow-joint, raises up the weight 
W placed in the hand. 

These muscles are largest in the middle — the part which 
contracts and taper off into tendons — those strong cords seen 
in the wrists, back of the hands, insteps, and above the heels, 
so that many muscles may be attached to a single bone, else 
the size of the bones must have been bunglingly large. The 
strength of these cords is tested by hanging slaughtered ani- 



mals up on sticks thrust under these tendons, and also by the 
tenacity with which they adhere to the bones, as well as l.y 
our ability to stand on one foot and toss the body about by 
one of these tendons — that of Achilles at the heel. Their at- 
tachment is formed on processes or ridges in the bones, or on 
their heads near joints, which processes are the larger the 
more powerful the muscles. 

Single motions are generally effected by the contraction of 
individual muscles. But most of our motions are compounds 
of several, effected by many bones, joints, and muscles acting 
in concert. Thus the simple lifting of the hand to the head 
is effected by the combined motions of the wrist, elbow and 
shoulder ; and in walking, apparently so easy, nearly all the 
muscles and bones of the body are brought into requisition ; 
so much so that even the tying of the hands greatly impedes it. 

Many of the motions of the body, as climbing, leaping, lift, 
ing, etc., require the concerted as well as powerful action of 
every muscle of the body. This concert is probably effected 
by means of a cerebral organ of motion located in the cere- 

No. 18. Location of the Cerebral Organ of Motion'. 



bellum in the middle line of the head at the nape of the 
neck, at B. of the foregoing engraving : A, representing the 
cerebellum, and a a, c c, d d, the junction of the spinal nerve 
with the brain. Indeed, all the internal organs, heart, lungs, 
liver, etc. undoubtedly have each their cerebral organs, just 
as the stomach operates by means of Alimentiveness. 

Some of these muscles and their manner of producing their 
respective motions are seen in the accompanying engraving 
and description copied from Combe. 

" To understand the uses of the 
various muscles, the reader has only 
to bear in mind that the object of mus- 
cular contraction is simply to bring the 
two ends of the muscle, and the parts 
to which they are attached, nearer to 
each other, — the more movable being 
always carried towards the more fixed 
point. Thus when the sterno-mas- 
TOiD muscle f g contracts, its ex- 
tremities approximate, and the head, 
being the movable point, is pulled 
down and turned to one side. This 
may be easily seen in the living subject, 
the muscle being not less conspicuous, 
than beautiful in its outline. Again, 
when the powerful rectus or straight 
muscle b on the front of the thigh 
contracts with force, as in the act of 
kicking, its lower end attached to the 
knee-pan and leg, tends to approximate 
to the upper or more fixed point, and 
pulls the leg strongly forwards. This 
occurs also in w^alking. But when 
the sARTORius or tailor's muscle c is 
put in action, its course being oblique, 
the movement of the leg is no longer 
in a cross direction, like that in which 
tailors sit ; and hence the name sar- 


" Another variety of effect occurs, 
when, as in the rectus or straight 
muscle of the belly i i, sometimes one 
end and sometimes both are the fixed 
points. When the lower end is fixed, 
the muscle bends the body forward, 
and pulls down the bones of the chest. 
When, as more rarely happens, tho 

No. 19. The Musclj.s. 


lower end is the movable point, the effect is to bring forward 
and raise the pelvis and inferior extremities ; and, when both ends 
are rendered immovable, the contraction of the muscle tends 
to compress and diminish the size of the cavity of the belly, and 
thus only assists the natural evacuations, but co-operates in the 
function of respiration. 

" In contemplating this arrangement, it is impossible not to be 
struck with the consummate skill with which every act of every 
organ is turned to account. When the chest is expanded by a full 
inspiration, the bowels are pushed downwards and forwards to 
make way for the lungs ; when the air is again expelled, and the 
cavity of the chest diminished, the very muscles Hi, which effect 
this by pulling down the ribs contract upon the bowels also, — push- 
ing them upwards and inwards, as can be plainly perceived by any 
one who attends to his own breathing. By this contrivance, a 
gentle and constant impulse is given to the stomach and bowels, 
which is of great importance to the min contributing to digestion 
and in propelling their contents ; and one cause of the costiveness, 
with which sedentary people are so habitually annoyed, is the 
diminution of this natural motion in consequence of bodily in- 


The number, variety, and power of the nnotions capable of 
being produced by these muscles are indeed most wonderful, 
as all have seen and experienced. They enable us to climb 
the lofty tree, and even the smooth pole of liberty — to mount 
the towering mast, and not only support ourselves in the 
rigging of the ship, but to put forth great muscular exertion 
while she is tossing and rolling, and that in the midst of the 
hurricane. Standing upon our feet, we can toss our bodies — 
weighing from 100 to 200 pounds — several feet upward and 
forwards, and in all directions for many hours in succession, 
as in dancing and the circus. Or we can transport it fifty or 
sixty miles between sun and sun, and even carry many pounds 
weight upon our backs. Or we can chase down the fleetest 
animal that runs. Or we can labor briskly every day, for 
scores of years. Or we can lift and carry several times our 
own weight. Or we can accomplish a multiplicity of power- 
ful and protracted bodily exertions and do a variety and 
amount of things almost without end. 

" The muscular power of the human body is indeed wondeiful. 
A Turkish porter will trot at a rapid pace, carrying a weight of 
six hundred pounds. Milo, a celebrated athlete from Crotona, 


accustomed himself to carry the greatest burthens and by degrees 
became a monster in strength. It is said that he carried on his 
shoulder an ox, four years old, weighing upward of one thousand 
pounds, for above forty yards, and afterward killed it with one blow 
of his fist. He was seven times crowned at the Pythian games, 
and six at the Olympian. He presented himself the seventh time, 
but no one had the courage to enter the lists against him. He was 
one of the disciples of Pythagoras, and to his uncommon strength 
the learned preceptor and his pupils owe their lives. The pillar 
which supported the roof of the school suddenly gave way, but 
Milo supported the whole weight of the building and gave the 
philosopher time to escape. In his old age Milo attempted to pull 
up a tree by its roots and break it. He partly effected it, but his 
strength being gradually exhausted, the tree when cleft, reunited, 
and left his hand pinched in the body of it. He was then alone, 
and, being unable to disengage himself, died in that position. 

"Haller mentioned that he saw a man whose finger being caught 
in a chain at the bottom of a mine, by keeping it forcibly bent^ sup- 
ported by that means the weight of his whole body, one hundred 
and fifty pounds, until he was drawn up to the surface, a height of 
six hundred feet. 

" Augustus XI., King of Poland, could roll up a silver plate fike a 
sheet of paper, and twist the strongest horse-shoe asunder. 

" A Frenchman who was attached to Rockwell & Stone's Circus 
last spnng, was able to resist the united sti'ength of four horses, as 
was witnessed by hundreds in New York, and other places. A 
lion is said to have left the impression of his teeth upon a piece of 
solid iron. 

" The most prodigious power of muscle is exhibited by fish. 
The whale moves with a velocity through the dense medium of 
water that would carry him, if continued at the same rate, round 
the world in little less than a fortnight ; and a sword-fish has been 
known to strike his weapon quite through the oak plank of a ship." 
— Western Literary Messenger. 

The following, bearing on this point, is taken from a Scotch 
paper, and is headed, " The last of the Stuarts." It is, withal, 
an excellent hereditary fact, and shows that the Stuart family 
were most remarkable for great physical strength, which har- 
monizes with the principle that all distinguished men are both 
from strong-constitutioned and long-lived families ; he being 
now one hundred and fifteen years old. — " Hundreds of per- 
sons can bear testimony to his amazing strength, from which 
circumstance he got the bye-name of * Jemmy Strength.* 
Among other feats he could carry a twenty- four pounder 
cannon, and has been known to lift a cart-load of hay, weigh- 
ing a ton and a half, upon his back. Many a time has he 


taken up a jackass, and walked through the toll-bar, carrying 
it on his shoulders. It will be long before we can look upon 
his like again, to hear of his stories of 1745, and his glowing 
descriptions of the young Chevalier." 

Jonathan Fowler, of Guildford, Conn., walked out knee 
deep through the mud, oyster-shells, and filth of a sea shore 
at low tide, to a shark left by the retiring tide in a pool, cap- 
tured it while yet alive, though it was weakened by having 
but a scanty supply of water, shouldered it, and brought it 
alive on his back to the shore, which weighed five hundred 
pounds ! — quite a load, considering that it was not the most 
portable of articles, nor the best of roads. The feats of the 
Ravel family. Bedouin Arabs, and circus performers are also 
in point 

Nor are these and kindred exhibitions of strength by any 
means the ultimatum of man's muscular capability. A due 
degree of trainin(j would enable him to accomplish much 
more. We are but lilliputians in comparison with what man- 
kind will yet become. Most exalted are my ideas of man's 
muscular powers. I believe he might vie with the lion him- 
self as to absolute strength, and carry heavier burdens than 
horses. Indeed, Turkish porters now transport six and eight 
hundred pounds at a time on their backs with ease, and the 
Belgian giant could stand up under two tons. The Chinese 
have no horses, and carry their teas and silks between two 
men hundreds of miles on their backs ! If man can effect 
all he now does without either muscular discipline or the ap- 
plication of the laws of hereditary descent, how much more 
with ? The human race is yet in its teens in everything,* 
muscular capability included. We little realize the extent to 
which this capability can be carried in our own selves, if 
properly disciplined. This brings us to consider 


Nor was this motive apparatus, so perfect, so powerful, cre- 
ated to lie dormant, but to be used. Almost innumerable 

* See a series of articles in tlie American Phrenological Journal, enti- 
tled " Progression a law of things." in Vols. VII, VIII, and IX. 


arrangements in nature compel such exercise. Thus man is 
ordained to exercise his muscles in tilling the soil, in order to 
procure food ; in changing his position and moving from place 
to place ; in making and working machinery, using tools, 
building, printing, making that vast variety and quantity of 
articles of clothing, furniture, ornament, and all the innume- 
rable things used by mankind, and even in reading, writing, 
eating, walking, talking, looking, breathing, and all those mil- 
lions of ends^— great, little, and almost infinitely diversified — 
requiring locomotion, which every member of the human family 
is compelled to put forth continually through life. 

We have already seen the importance of digestion, circu- 
lation ^^, respiration ^^ perspiration '°^, and sleep ^^^, all of which 
exercise promotes. Who has not seen his veins become 
prominent and hardened during vigorous exercise on account 
of tlie increased passage of blood through them ; whereas this 
swelling appearance of the veins, is never found in the indo- 
lent, except in fevers. Who does not know that a smart lift, 
or work, or run, or vigorous exercise of any kind, increases 
the frequency and power of the pulse as well as the rapidity 
and volume of the inspirations ? That it equally accelerates 
the perspiration all are witnesses. Who has not seen the 
sweat run down in streams from all parts of the body during 
hard labor ? And who does not know how much more heartily 
we eat, and sweetly and soundly we sleep with than without 
labor ? Nor is there an important function of our nature 
which muscular exercise does not promote, and inaction in- 
tercept. By enhancing respiration it augments the amount of 
oxygen ®® and carbon ^^ consumed, as well as of fibrine, glutine, 
and casseine consumed, indeed of all the materials derived from 
food and breath, and also greatly increases the expulsion of all 
noxious matter from the system in the form of phlegm, per- 
spiration, and respiration. Besides hurrying the circulation 
by increasing the introduction of oxygen ®^, it still farther 
increases the flow of blood by urging it along through the 
veins ; for the contraction of the muscles upon the veins, 
urges their contents forward — backward it cannot go^ — 
towards the heart. Labor also quickens the action of the 


bowels and of the digestive process generally '''' . These func- 
tions, constituting no small portion of life itself, labor enhances 
and thus augments life and all its pleasures and powers. 
In short, muscular action promotes every function and power, 
mental and physical, of our entire nature, besides being indis- 
pensable to all. He who does not work can therefore enjoy only 
a lower degree of life and its pleasures, muscular inaction 
deteriorating, diseasing, and vitiating the entire man and 
woman. Nature still farther recommends muscular action 
by the 


Since obedience to her laws occasions pleasure ', and since 
muscular exercise is thus undoubtedly one of her laws, we 
might expect it to be freighted with a great variety and amount 
of ENJOYMENT. And thus experience proves it to be. Con- 
fine yourselves, or even sit or lie, in one position all day, and 
you will find such inaction to be exceeding painful. See how 
animals, on breaking away from close confinement, run and 
skip, and hop, and frisk as though they did not know how to 
contain themselves. How many times, after having remained 
inactive for some time, on going out have you been filled with 
an amount of pleasure in action better felt then "described. 
Nor is it till after our muscles have been drilled long and 
severely, and even become enfeebled, if not diseased, by in- 
action, that we can keep still without pain. Idleness is un- 
natural. Action is natural and pleasurable in its very 
nature. See how much real pleasure children take in playing 
and running — so much that they race from morning to night, 
and cannot be kept still by any means whatever. How much 
pleasure a smart walk, or ride, or dance, and the like afford ? 
Nor do the sedentary realize how much pleasure is to be 
taken in manual labor — it being excelled only by that taken 
in eating, breathing and sleeping. Indeed, those who do not 
work or take vigorous exercise in some way, can experience but 
little pleasure in life ; for they can neither eat, nor sleep, nor 
breathe, nor think, nor feel with that real relish so essential 
to enjoyment. " He that will not work, neither shall he 
eat," is writ/en quite as legibly on the physiological con- 


stitution of man as in the Bible, labor being indispensable to 
appetite, and this to the enjoyment of food, besides the far 
greater amount of food which nature allows him who works 
to eat with impunity. Nor should the laborer envy the rich 
their ease or their dainties ; for he has " meat to eat which 
they know not of/' luxuries of which they can never partake, 
till they create a relish for them by laboring like him. For 
one, I would as soon forego the pleasures of appetite or rest 
as of manual labor. I say labor, because, though walking, 
riding, hunting, bowling, dancing, and other kinds of exercise 
are better than none, yet none of them compare with work as 
a means of promoting health. No form of play, no other 
kind of exercise, at all compares with labor, especially 
AGRICULTURAL, for expanding and strengthening the chest, 
developing all the organs, and thoroughly exercising every 
muscle and organ in the body. Better ride, or walk, or dance, 
or play ball, and the like, than nothing ; but better work than 
either or all. To derive the pleasure from muscular action 
it is capable of imparting, we must do something — must effect 
some useful end. Exercise for its own sake is comparatively 
insipid ; but when we are achieving some useful end both 
its utility afnd its pleasures are redoubled. You may play, 
but let me work. Give me an axe, or saw or hoe, or scythe, 
or rake, or shovel, or some kind of tool, and place to use it, 
and I envy you not the pleasures of even the dance and hunt. 
Let me plow, and plant, and raise food for my table, and set 
out and tend trees that I may enjoy their fruit, and add to the 
products of the earth, and thereby to the aggregate of human 
happiness. God has told man practically to till the earth 
and keep it, and that he must eat his bread by the sweat of his 
brow. Not by any means, as generally interpreted, that 
such toil is a curse. So far therefrom, it is a blessing, and 
one of the greatest pleasures of earth. Nor is labor ever a 
curse, or other than one of nature's greatest luxuries except 
when excessive in amount or ill-timed. Nor can words 
portray the evils consequent on the false notion that labor is a 
curse, of which presently. Indeed, if our world produced 
all we require spontaneously, without any requisition for 


human labor, it would hardly have been worth living in. If 
these views of the utility of labor require confirmation they 
have it in the fact that 


What distinguished man in this country or age, or any 
other, but took a great amount of exercise while young ? And 
most of the world's geniuses were brought up to hard work. 
Adam Clarke was noted, when at school, for his great physical 
strength in rolling stones. Shakespeare, while composing his 
immortal plays, carried brick and mortar to build places for 
their performance. John Wesley rode and walked a great 
many thousand miles, and it was this habitual exercise which 
prepared his gigantic intellect to put forth those mighty efforts 
which enabled him to do so much good, and which must im« 
mortalize his name. Elihu Burritt, probably the greatest 
scholar of the age, was compelled by necessity to work eight 
HOURS DAILY at the anvil in order to furnish himself with the 
means of prosecuting his intellectual labors ; and it was this 
fact of his thus laboring daily, which enabled him thus to take 
such astonishing strides in the acquisition of knowledge. 
Clay was a poor boy, and actually worked for a living. Henry 
Bascom, the great western orator, travelled west on foot, 
with his axe on his shoulders. The old Roman and Grecian 
orators took a great amount of exercise in order to prepare 
themselves for public speaking, and they put in practice one 
fundamental principle of which we moderns, with all our 
boasted light and inventions, have lost sight — that of strength- 
ening the voice by gymnastic exercises.* Sir Walter Scott,f 
after confining himself to his desk for several days, till the 
energies of his brain had become exhausted, would mount 
his horse, call out his dogs, and follow the chase for days in 
succession, till he had restored his prostrated energies, and 

* No one can have a good voice without having a good muscular sys- 
tem ; and, hence, to improve the tone of the latter, wUl augment the 
power of the former. Hence, an additional reason why public speakers 
should labor. 

t Madden' 8 Infirmities of Men of Genius. 


then returned to his study. When Byron entered college, 
fearing that his tendency to corpulency would injure his per- 
sonal beauty — of which he was very proud — he took extremely 
severe exercise daily in order to reduce it, besides leading an 
extremely abstemious life. Webster was a backwoodsman, 
born in a " log-cabin,'' on the borders of the unbroken forest, 
and inured to hard labor.* And often, breaking away from 
public life, and shouldering his gun, he ranges the forests for 
days in search of game, besides taking much exercise daily. 
Franklin, the beacon-star of his profession, was a practical 
printer and a hard worker. Patrick Henry, that unrivalled 
star of genius and eloquence, labored on the farm while 
young, and was passionately fond of music, dancing, and the 
chase, the latter of which he often followed for weeks together, 
camping out in true hunter's style. f Need we mention the 
Father of our country, its pride and pattern ? Washington, 
when not employed by his country, labored assiduously upon 
his farm ; and was actually driving his plough when he re- 
ceived the news of his election as President. Harrison, " the 
FARMER of North Bend," led a life of great physical exertion 
and exposure. Burns, the Scottish bard, actually composed 
much of his poetry when at work on a farm. President 
Dwight, the great theologian and scholar, attributed much of 
his mental vigor to daily labor in his garden. John Quincy 
Adams, one of the most learned men of the age, says he finds 
much daily exercise indispensable. 

Both while in college, and during my professional visits to 
our principal colleges since my graduation, I have observed 

* See his speech at Saratoga Springs, in 1844. 

t After his removal to Louisa, he has been known to hunt deer, fre- 
quently for several days together, carrying his provision with him, and at 
night encamping in the woods. After the hunt was over, he would go 
from the ground to Louisa court, clad in a coarse cloth coat, stained with 
all the trophies of the chase, greasy leather breeches, ornamented in the 
same way, leggings for boots, and a pair of saddle-bags on his arm. Thus 
accoutred, he would enter the courthouse, take up the first of his causes 
that chanced to be called ; and if there was any scope for his peculiar 
talent, throw his adversary into the background, and astonish both court 
and jury, by the powerful effusions of his natural eloquence. — Wirt's Life 
of Patrick Henry. 


as a uniform fact, that those students who have been brought 
up without having labored, never take a high intellectual 
stand, except in parrot-like scholarship. They always show 
a want of mental vim and pith, and the powers of close, hard 
thinking. After they enter upon the business of life, their 
case is still worse. For them to rise to eminence is impossi- 
ble. O, I thank God and my father that I was obliged to 
WORK hard and constantly on a farm till sixteen years of age, 
when I began to prepare for college. Leaving home with only 
four dollars in the world, with my all upon my back, I travel- 
led four hundred miles, worked my way to college, and 
through college, and, instead of earning my money by teach- 
ing school, supported myself by sawing, splitting, and carry- 
ing up the wood of my fellow-students, three and four 
FLIGHTS OF STAIRS, improving in this way every hour, except 
study hours, and often portions of the night. My fellow- 
students laughed at me then, but now the scales are turned. 
I thought it a hard row to hoe, but a rich harvest has it yielded 
me ; and you, reader, owe to this same cause, no small por- 
tion of whatever delight or benefit, my lectures, writings, and 
examinations may afford you. Even these very pages are 
penned after a delightful feast of work. And one of the 
means by which I am enabled to write as much as I do — 
how well it is done others must judge — is the interspersion of 
composition with labor. I rise in the morning before the hens 
leave their resting places, and engage briskly in some sort of 
labor, usually agricultural, till I have worked up the circula- 
tion to a high pitch, and sent the blood rushing around the 
system — in which manual repast I take more pleasure than 
even in my subsequent breakfast — and then go to my desk to 
put on paper the ideas which this bodily exercise pours in 
upon my mind. Merely as a means of promoting authorship 
alone, no motive would induce me to give up manual labor,* 
nor has probably anything aided my authorship as much as 
the purchase of a small plot of ground on which to work. 

* Some have expressed surprise at the amount of mental exertion put 
forth by the author. Whether it is remarkable or not, its secret is in 
exerci/ie and fasting ^^. 


Nor has my health ever sustained as much injury from expo- 
sure, or excessive professional application, or any other cause, 
as from that deficiency of labor which some twenty years 
study and severe professional labor have partially prevented 
my taking. Nor has anything done more to restore the health 
thus impaired than a return to work. Pardon this personal 
allusion, but profit by the lesson it teaches. Reader, be your 
occupation what it may, pleasure or business, mental disci- 
pline or professional attainments, take this advice — v^ork hard 
AND DAILY FROM TWO TO SIX HOURS — and you will accomplish 
more study, dispatch more business, and perform and enjoy 
more in whatever you engage, ten to one, than by perpet- 
ual application. As the bow always bent loses its elas- 
ticity, so continued application either exhausts or disorders 
the brain and impedes mental energy and discipline, which 
daily labor will wonderfully promote. Ye who aspire after 
renown, work. Ye who would do good, work. Ye who 
would fulfil man's great terrestrial destiny of being happy, 
labor daily. And ye who are too proud or too lazy to work, 
be contented to suffer. Good enough for you because you 
violate a cardinal law of your being. This arraigns for 


In view of these two fundamental laws of our being — the 
great demand of nature for muscular action, and its subservi- 
ency of all the great ends of life, what shall we say of those 
who are above work ? Above it ? Rather, below it ; for 
depend upon it, he who thinks himself too good to work, is in 
reality too bad. No man or woman can ever be above labor 
without being above his nature and his God. Shall the Al- 
mighty Maker of all things not only work the six days of the 
creation,* but " from everlasting to everlasting," and shall 
man, "the work of his hands," be above his Maker? That 
human being is no man, no woman, only some paltry thing, 
who is too proud to engage in manual labor. " To till the 
earth and to keep it " is an honor, not a disgrace — is to be- 

* Gen. ii. 2, 3. 


come " co-workers with God," not a menial. And he or 
she who is too proud to labor, ought, in all consistency, 
to be too proud to breathe and eat, because the former 
is quite as much a constitutional function and demand of 
nature as the latter. Ashamed to be seen at work ? As 
well be ashamed to look or talk ! Away with this dogma 
that labor degrades. It elevates and ennobles. Its influence 
upon the mind is most beneficial. It begets a resolution 
and energy of character, which infuses into all our feelings 
and conduct an indispensable element of success. Labor re- 
quires a perpetual grappling with difficulties and overcoming 
of obstacles, which inspire and cultivate a firmness and deter- 
mination imparted by nothing else. Hence the youth brought 
up to do no work while young, fails to cope with difficulties, 
but yields to them through life, and of course accomplishes 
little. This explains why rich youths make such poor 
scholars, and shiftless ninnies. Rather my boy would be a 
street scavenger, and my girls kitchen drudges, than brought 
up not to labor at all, for no kind or amount of work is as bad 
as either idleness or no labor. Not that! advocate excessive 
toil, of which presently, but some sort of work. Play is good 
for children, but not enough. They must learn, by toiling 
through those opposing obstacles the removal of which consti- 
tutes labor, to grapple in with all kinds of difficulties with that 
determined resolution which says in action ^' I can and I will," 
" get out of my way or I'll get you out." The greatest curse 
now impending over our land is this anti-working fashion. 
Parents seem to vie with each other who shall support their 
children at the greatest remove from doing anything. And 
one of the greatest of the evils of that monster evil slavery, is 
the idea it practically fosters and insists upon, that labor is the 
business of slaves, and degrading to master and son — the 
wrong inflicted on the slave, great as it often is, being trifling 
compared wiih the depravity and suffering which this anti- 
working tendency does so much to rivet upon the white 

Yet all anti-workers have their reward. Produce me the 
man thus brought up, who did not turn out to be both inef- 


ficient and vicious. This explains the prevalence of vice 
among the rich, and at the south, the fact of which is palpa- 
ble. If I had the wealth of Astor my children s^iould work 
Not that I would force them to it, for this might make them 
hate it, but that I would persuade them to it, and enamor them 
of it, so that they should labor from choice. 

And those dear, delicate, fashionable, city ladies — generally 
as homely as hedge fences, simply because they do not work, 
and of course become sickly, and therefore " ugly looking" — 
so extra exquisite that they must never soil their soft hands 
by doing the least thing about house — too nice, and deli- 
cate, and refined, and genteel, and senseless, besides much 
more, to be so vulgar — may possibly take a fashionable 
promenade once in a while, and an occasional " airing" in 
the easiest riding carriage that can be made. So very gen- 
teel, they must ride to church, though only two or three 
blocks off! Consummate simpletons ; don't you wish you had 
a patent machine, by which your servants could chew your 
food and pump breath into you without any effort of your own, 
so as to place you at a still greater remove from labor ! And 
your extra delicate and helpless children — don't you wish 
they could lay down and lie there all their lives, and save the 
trouble even of eating by letting pap drop into their open 
mouths and run down their tiny throats of itself! 

And poor but proud pretenders to gentility, who have 
scarcely enough to eat, yet would fain make a genteel ap- 
pearance — starving the kitchen to feed the parlor — if acci- 
dentally caught in kitchen habiliments, must blush, and apolo- 
gize, and falsify outright by pretending that their servant has 
just left, and they had to prepare dinner — out upon your 
proud nothingness. Have to work, yet lie to hide it ! This 
anti-working pride is contemptible in the rich, but in you, in- 
tolerable. Beg pardon for obeying the laws of your being, 
ha ! What greater sign of littleness ! Go away, ye toadstool 
grandees, into merited insignificance and infamy. Come, ye 
laborers, inherit the blessings conferred by toil. I do not 
wish such perverters of their natures had no muscles, but a 
short paralysis of them, so as to enforce their practical value, 


would be good enough for them. Indeed, their partial paralysis 
always follows their protracted inaction. Muscles used but 
little decline till they become so weak that exertion, otherwise 
a source of exquisite delight, now becomes irksome, and fa- 
tigue follows trifling exercise. Such are most heartily to be 
pitied, yet their punishment is just and self-induced ^ 


In view of this constitutional demand for labor, what be- 
comes of the idea that laborers are therefore inferior ? Blown 
to atoms by a blast from nature's ordinances. The honor- 
ables of the earth are its laborers. Nothing is mean which 
nature requires, but on the other hand, worthy of universal 
commendation. What she has anointed and crowned let not 
man despise. This idea that labor is degrading had its origin 
in kingly and feudal times and institutions, of lordlings and 
serfs. Would that it had never been imported to our repub- 
lican shores. Is it not in the teeth and eyes of every princi- 
ple of republicanism ? Yet our cardinal doctrine of equality is 
favSt erasing it, and elevating labor to that post of honor assigned 
it by nature. True Republicans will never think the less of 
those who labor, and those who do should emigrate. Our 
country, our institutions are not congenial with their doctrines 
or practices, The old world is already consecrated to aris- 
tocracy and caste, this to equality. Go home to England or 
India ye purse-proud labor-despisers ; here you are strangers 
in a foreign land, for our institutions conflict with your prac- 
tices. Go where you can find congeniality, and leave us who 
love equality to the peaceable possession of this our home. 
Here you are eyesores, and stand in the light of those to 
whom this land of right belongs. Touching this matter of 
caste as connected with labor, Miss Charlotte E. Beecher justly 
observes : — 

'I Let any woman who esteems herself in the higher classes of 
society, put the case as her own, and imagine that her son, or bro- 
ther, is about to marry a young lady, whose character and education 
are every way lovely and unexceptionable, but who, it appears, is a 
seamstress, or a nurse, or a domestic, and how few are there, who 
will not be c(rnscious of the opposing principle of caste. But sup- 


pose the young lady to be one who has been earning her livehhood 
by writing poetry and love stories, or who has lived all her days in 
utter idleness, and how suddenly the feelings are changed ! Now, 
all the comfort and happiness of society depend upon having that 
work properly performed, which is done by nurses, seamstresses, 
chambermaids, and cooks ; and so long as this kind of work is held 
to be degrading, and those who peiform it allowed to grow up igno- 
rant and vulgar, and then are held down by the prejudices of caste, 
evfry w^oman will use the greatest efforts, and undergo the greatest 
privations, to escape from the degraded and discreditable position. 
And this state of society is now, by the natural course of things, 
bringing a just retribution on the classes who cherish it. Domestics 
are forsaking the kitchen, and thronging to the workshop and manu- 
factory, and mainly under the influence of the principles of caste ; 
while the family state suffers keenly from the loss. Meantime the 
daughters of wealth have their faculties and their sensibilities de- 
veloped, while all the household labor, which would equally develop 
their physical powers, and save from ill health, is turned off to 
hired domestics or a slaving mother. The only remedy for this evil 
is, securing a proper education for all classes and making productive 
labor honorable by having all classes engage in it." 

One probable reason why labor is despised is, that it is 
generally required in such excess as to be extremely onerous. 
Such excess is injurious, and should never be required or 
yielded. On the other hand, we should render it as delightful 
in fact as nature has rendered it by constitution '^^, thus sec- 
onding her evident intention. Nor should laborers be required 
to strike another blow after just comfortably tired. We should 
work FOR PLAY, and only when to labor is pleasure ' This 
brings up for consideration 


From four to six hours of vigorous muscular exercise is the 
least compatible with first-rate health. Excellent constitutions 
may endure close confinement for years, yet must run down 
continually, and finally break. A lower degree of health 
may be preserved on less exercise, but as the order of nature 
is to spend from six to ten hours daily in the open air^^, so the 
perfection of health requires a great amount of muscular ac- 
tion, and the more, generally speaking, the better, provided it 
is of the right kind. My own convictions are, that about four 
hours brisk labor per day will suffice for exercise, which 


amount, well expended by all — rich and poor — will just about 
supply the human family with the comforts, if not also the 
luxuries of life, artificial wants and extravagances of course 
excepted. How admirable this adaptation of the amount of 
labor requisite for health to that required to provide man with 
necessaries of life. But we shall present the law here in- 
volved hereafter. 

In the light of this required amount of exercise, what shall 
we say of those merchants, clerks, lawyers, students, and the 
sedentary classes generally, who confine themselves to their 
offices, desks, and books, from morning till night, year in and 
year out, scarcely going out of doors, except to and from their 
business, and then taking an omnibus ! If these principles 
of exercise were put in practice, very few city conveyances 
would be required or patronized. One would think that our 
sedentaries, starved almost to death for exercise, would em- 
brace every opportunity to take it, walking at least to and 
from their business, sawing their own wood, and the like. 
Yet fashion requires that they hire horses to do the former, 
and servants to do the latter. Such fashions I despise, practi- 
cally and theoretically. 


How much exercise given individuals should take, depends 
on circumstances to be determined by each individual for 
himself, and varies with existing capabilities of endurance, 
which are easily determined by the feelings at the time. As 
un perverted appetite constitutes an infallible guide to the re- 
quired quantity of food^^, so muscular appetite, unless rendered 
abnormal by inaction, will inform us when, and how much 
exercise we require for the time being, and when we are 
taking it in excess, or at improper times. Excessive and 
also fitful or violent exercise, especially for the sedentary, is 
injurious. Such should exercise deliberately as well as eat 
slowly, else exhaustion supervenes before a due degree of 
exercise is obtained. 

Yet some are so situated that to take sufficient exercise is 
exceedingly difficult. Though such should change their 


business, because exercise should be a paramount considera- 
tion, yet they will find in dancing a partial substitute. Not 
that I recommend this amusement as generally conducted, 
but unequivocally condemn it. To give reasons would be to 
digress. Though this dancing but seldom, and then all 
night in hot and illy- ventilated rooms, and then going out 
exhausted and exposed to colds, together with most of the 
associations of the ball-room, are most pernicious ; yet for our 
sedentaries to select their company, and meet at each other's 
houses in the afternoon or evening, always avoiding over exer- 
tion, and retiring by nine or ten o'clock, if practiced often, 
would supply in part that deficiency of muscular action which 
causes so many to sicken and die — would restore many an 
invalid now perishing by inches with pure inanition, and pre- 
serve and even re-invigorate the health of many now going into 
a decline. Dancing might be, yet rarely is, so conducted as 
to prove eminently beneficial, without occasioning any evil. 
In fact, it is founded in the nature of man, and can therefore 
be turned to a most excellent practical account in a great 
variety of ways. To sedentary young women, this form of 
exercise is particularly recommended. Yet I would have 
all dance to their own music, vocal or instrumental, or both, 
and also in company with their parents and elders. Young 
people should never dance exclusively by themselves. Yet 
our present purpose being to point out to the sedentary a fea- 
sible mode of taking exercise, to guard against evils too often 
associated with it is digressive. 

Besides the sedentary, those laborers who sit or stand much 
in one posture, will find that change and diversity of manual 
action secured by dancing to dispel fatigue and promote 
health, and perhaps even render unhealthy occupations 
healthy. Seamstresses, goldsmiths^ shoe makers, and many 
artisans of like occupations, who have no substitute, should 
dance daily as much as eat ; and students will find it promo- 
tive alike of health and of the mental action and therefore dis- 
cipline *°^ they seek. 



See how briskly and almost incessantly lambs frisk, calves 
run, colts prance,, kittens play, and the young of all animals 
exert their muscles. Nor do children form an exception to 
this law. What mother or nurse has not been surprised, if 
not provoked with their incessant activity and noise from 
morning to night, year after year, from the cradle till they 
take leave of the parental roof Nor can this action possibly 
be prevented. Try your best to keep them still and you will 
fail. To prevent action is as impossible as to prevent their 
breathing, and as injurious as impossible. This restless 
activity is interwoven throughout their whole natures, and for 
the best of reasons. Their growth being rapid, the materials 
for which are deposited by the blood, of course their digestion, 
respiration, circulation, and perspiration must be proportion- 
ally active. All these functions exercise promotes ''^, and 
thereby augments growth — is indeed indispensable to it. 
Swing up an arm or foot so as to prevent its action, and see 
how it shrinks, and becomes enfeebled and diseased. But 
restoring its action enlarges, restores, and strengthens it. So 
of the system as a whole. To prevent the activity of chil- 
dren, besides being the worst purgatory that can be inflicted 
upon them — and I pity from my inmost soul those dear suf- 
ferers who are shut up and required to keep still — prevents 
the development of bone, muscle, nerve, and brain, and thereby 
weakens every one of their powers, mental and physical, and 
thus becomes the worst curse which can be forced upon them. 
For one I rejoice in the gambolings of children, noisy though 
they be, because augmented health and mentality are the pro- 
ducts. Rather sacrifice my own temporary convenience on 
the altar of so great a good to them. Nor will my conscience 
allow me to interdict what their highest good requires. Did 
nature implant this perpetual restlessness to be suppressed ? 
We fight against her requirements at our and their peril. 
Many a mother has followed her children to their graves 
because she broke down their constitutions by interdicting 
their play. Rather promote than retard this demand of their 
natures. Nor fear, much as they will play if allowed, that 


they will run too much. After they have been unduly kept 
in for a long time, they may perhaps play beyond their 
strength at first, but not long. It is hardly possible for them 
to ovei;do. Not one in scores of thousands ever does this, but 
nearly every child in civilized life is more or less enfeebled 
and diseased by playing too little, together vi^ith over con- 
finement. Parents should make provision for such play as 
much as for their meals, and try to promote, never retard it. 

" But T cannot possibly stand their perpetual uproar," re- 
joins a nervous mother. Then turn them out of doors. Nor 
keep them in for cold or vt'et. Wash them all over, mornings, 
or even their feet, nights, in cold water ^^°, and neither cold or 
wet will hurt, but only benefit them. Their racing will con- 
vert both into instrumentalities of health ^^ '^^ '^° ^^. Do not 
be too tender of them. Confinement kills scores where expo- 
sure kills one, and even then the exposure would be harmless 
but for previous confinement. There are weathers not suitable 
for them to be out, yet then they will want to stay in. 

" And what shall we do with them then V asks another 
mother. Have a play-room under cover set apart expressly for 
them, filled with facilities for play. It need not be warmed ; 
they will keep themselves duly warm by exercise. No house 
should be without its children's play-room any more than 
without a kitchen or bed-room. And such rooms should be 
large and airy, and lighted, if possible, from the top so as to 
save window glass, or else furnished with inside shutters. 
Whole flocks of children of different ages, should be turned 
out to roam over hill and dale unrestrained, the elder succoring 
the younger, or rather, all under the care of teachers who, 
from every flower, and mineral, and production of nature met in 
their rambles, shall teach them nature, her operations, and her 
laws *^ ^'° ''' ''' ''' ''' ''' "^ "^ *". Whatever you do for children 
or what leave undone, do this : — give them their perpetual 
FILL OF exercise. In addition to play 


One of the reasons for this has already been given ^'"'. It 
inures them to overcoming obstacles. It also furnishes an 


exercise of muscle more severe than play, and trains them to 
habits of labor so essential to their health and happiness 
through life ^^^ '^^ ^'"'. They should also practice rendering 
themselves serviceable to others while young. And then there 
is something in labor which hardens the whole system, brain 
included, rendering it compact and firm, and capable of en- 
during what those not inured to work can never sustain. 
Especially should labor be rendered inviting to them, never 
repulsive. If possible, induce them to work from choice, not 
compulsion. This can be easily effected in a variety of ways. 
One is by giving boys a parcel of land and letting them plant, 
tend, and harvest on shares, and have the avails. This will 
also teach them the value of money, by showing them how 
much labor it requires to earn it. Another way is by giving 
them tools and a workshop, and encouraging them to make 
sleds, wagons, kites, boxes, and what playthings they want, 
as well as tinkering up other things required, of which more 
under Constructiveness in the next volume. By a variety of 
kindred devices they can be induced to labor from love of it. 

Yet I protest against this subjecting young children to ex- - 
cessive and perpetual toil. As soon as or before they enter 
their teens, parents say to them in actions, if not in words, " I 
have toiled hard and long for you, and now you must pay me 
off, principal and interest, by working still harder for me." 
But let such remember that children have much more than 
paid their own way all along from birth, in the pleasure they 
have occasioned, and instead of owing, have actually brought 
their parents in debt, or rather, both are indebted to their com- 
mon parent for the mutual pleasure they have occasioned 
each other. 

Children are also put to trades too early, and bound out to 
severe taskmasters, obliged to work hard early and late for 
six or seven years, and often poorly fed and lodged at that, 
thus expending in the services of their master those energies 
required for the development of their bodies and brains. Many 
mechanics make it a point of economy — though it is the worst 
kind of robbery — to get much of their work done by appren- 
tices. The present apprentice system is abominable — utterly 


anti-republican and unjust, and often wickedly cruel, as many- 
readers know by sad experience. Its object should be to teach 
the trade, not to enrich the employer. That well learned — 
and by this time the trouble of teaching and keeping will be 
amply recompensed by the labor of the apprentice — they 
should be allowed the full avails of their labor, instead of be- 
ing compelled to work hard for several years for nothing but 
their food and clothing, and then thrown empty upon the world 
at twenty-one, whereas, if they had been paid all, or even 
half, the nett profits of their labor, they might have had a 
home of their own, and capital with which to commence busi- 
ness, and more than all, good constitutions, now well nigh 
ruined by over- working while growing. Many children and 
youth, while growing rapidly, are lazy, especially those who 
mature late, because they require all their vitality ^^ for growth, 
and to give them strong constitutions ; nor is it expedient nor 
right to compel such to labor much beyond what they them- 
selves prefer, lest they should expend in labor those vital ener- 
gies required for growth. Nor need you fear that they will 
be as lazy after they have attained their stature and maturity 
— after their reservoir of vitality is full and overflowing — for 
their very, indolence now will contribute to their efficiency 
then by increasing their health and strengthening their con- 
stitutions, thus giving them the greater surplus for muscular 
and mental labor. Yet we would have all children work 
every day after they are ten years old. 

These principles apply equally to putting youth into stores 
and offices too young. And the smarter they are the worse. 
Slim, spare, flabby, I see their morning sun about to pass into 
an early cloud, if not set in the darkness of premature death ! 
Without abundant exercise they cannot possibly have strong 
muscles or vigorous health, and without these can never do, 
or become, or enjoy, much. Many readers can testify that 
their apprenticeship broke down their constitution and im- 
paired all their capabilities, all their enjoyments for life. 

But worst of all is this compelling young children and youth 
to work steadily in the factory ten, twelve, or more hours 
daily, year after year without vacation, or any time to play 


or recreate, or near enough even to eat and sleep. See how 
pale, slim, haggard, and jaded out they all look. Give them 
a six-months play-day and see how it will improve their health, 
and looks, and minds. And I actually sigh for my country in 
view of the multitudes of our youth now subjected to this de- 
teriorating practice — so much so, that I mourn instead of 
rejoice over our mechanical prosperity. The farm is the 
place for children. What if factory labor is light, it is con- 
fining, and prevents muscular exercise. Even excessive labor 
is less injurious. After the growth is completed and the con- 
stitution every way consolidated, factory labor is less injuri- 
ous, but I would work desperately myself rather than let my 
children be confined to the factory. 

Thus far our remarks have been applied to boys. Yet to 
girls such application is quite as important, if not even more 
BO. Girls especially should never be confined either to the 
chair in sewing, or the factory-room, for reasons given in our 
work on " Maternity." Women may sit and sow or knit after 
they are thirty, and the more the older they grow, but no girl 
should learn any female trade requiring her to sit as in sewing, 
folding books, coloring prints, or observe any other fixed pos- 
ture, or confine herself in the factory, till after thirty, on pain 
of a broken constitution and shortened life, yet elderly women 
may sew, tend machinery, and the like, with comparative 
impunity. Nor should young, growing girls be confined to 
lugging and tending infants. 

If asked at what age children and youth may be put down 
to hard labor without much injury — excessive labor is inju- 
rious at any period of life — the following anecdote contains 
the answer. While riding in a stage with its proprietor, who 
keeps several hundred horses in constant employ, all of which 
he buys himself, I asked him what kinds of horses he pre- 
ferred in making his purchases. He answered " Balky ones !" 
" Why ?" I again inquired ? " Because their fractiousness 
prevented their being used much till fully grown and hard- 
ened," he replied. I again inquired " At what age horses 
might be put down to hard work without injury ?" "Not till 
eight years old ; they ought never to be broken earlier, and 


then they will wear like iron till they are thirty ; you can 
hardly wear them out," was his answer. He would thus 
have one quarter of their lives spent simply in growing and 
MATURING, as they will much more than make up this lost 
time by extra endurance afterwards. Only a few days pre- 
vious I had rode after an extra smart horse, twenty-three 
years old, whose skittishness prevented her being used till 
about eight. 

These facts, palpable to all who will open their eyes upon 
them, illustrate a universal law which requires that nearly or 
quite one fourth of the life of man should be spent in the 
formation and development of the physical powers. Youth 
should work only for play till, besides having all the vitality 
requisite for growth, they become full and run over with sur- 
plus animal life, so that they almost ache for something to do 
in order to expend it. When this period arrives, be it earlier 
or later, just give them a chance to do something for them- 
selves and they will not be lazy. Instead, they will take 
hold of the affairs of life " with an appetite," and accomplish 
wonders, whereas compelling them to labor too young is the 
way of all others to make them hate work, and turn idlers as 
soon as out of their time. To put children to hard work at 
eight or nine is to wear them out at thirty or forty, but if you 
would have them live to be a hundred, give them the reins 
till they are twenty or upwards, and allow them to be boys 
and girls, instead of making them young ladies and gentle- 
men. But we shall touch a kindred point, under Approba- 
tiveness, in Vol. II. 


The injuries consequent on the vitiated air of school-rooms, 
has already been pointed out ^^. Those of confinement and 
inaction are scarcely less, and often greater. This demand for 
vigorous and almost constant exercise in children is imperious, 
and its suppression fatal. Apply your finger to their pulse. 


Mark that rush, rush, rush of blood simply to supply the 
hand. This blood is freighted with the materials for growth, 
and must be much more vigorous in children than adults, be- 
cause the former grow as well as live. Respiration must also 
keep pace with circulation, and exercise with both ; so that 
confinement in school-rooms enfeebles the body, and thereby 
the mind. How perfectly miserable probably every reader 
has been upon the school-house bench — a sure sign of violated 
law ^. But when playspells and noonings came, did not we run, 
and jump, and hallo, and breathe deep and fast, and thus send 
the boiling blood coursing throughout the system freighted with 
the materials of life and growth ? Besides, how much faster 
we learned after them than before ? The brain is the last por- 
tion of the system to form and mature. Hence, if youth should 
not bfc put to hand- work till twenty or upwards, they should 
not be confined to hard study till even a later period. Many 
a dull boy has made a smart man — more in proportion than from 
among the extra smart. Excessive parental love and vanity 
too often try every possible method to render their children 
prodigies while young, yet confining a child in school both 
prevents the manufacture of vitality, and then diverts what 
little there is from the body to the head, and thus debilitates 
both. This green-house method of forcing premature develop- 
ment weakens all their powers while alive and hastens death. 
But as we shall recur to the evils of precocity hereafter, we 
dismiss this matter here, simply adding that children should 
be taught mainly while on foot and in motion, and that the 
first care of parents should be to build a deep and broad foun- 
dation for mental greatness in powerful constitutions and 
sti'ong muscles, and then proceed with the superstructure. 

In general, nothing is lost, but everything is gained, by not 
sending them to school till they are twelve, fifteen, or eighteen 
years old, and a quarter's play will often save many quarter's 
sickness. But whether they go to school early or late, much 
or little, they should not be required to sit over half or three- 
fourths of an hour at a time, when playspells should relieve 
their restlessness and sharpen up their minds for renewed ac- 
tion. And the longer these playspells the better. But as our 


present object is to show the importance of juvenile exercise, 
not education — a point elsewhere discussed, we drop it with 
the remark that schooling should never curtail play, because 
niuscular action does them more good than books. 





But suppose all those beautiful and perfect contrivances al- 
ready described of stomach, liver, intestines, heart, lungs, skin, 
bones, and muscles — the entire man — complete and in perfect 
order, all would, be utterly useless but for some means of 
MANIFESTING MENTALITY. The mind is the man '^, and its meas- 
ure his measure. This alone renders man both immortal and 
divine — alone crowns and allies him to angels and to God, alone 
endows humanity with its only wreath of glory, its only instru- 
mentality of enjoyment. It is the mind alone which enjoys, and 
since happiness is the great object of existence, of course our 
enjoyments are proportionate to its amount and right exercise ^. 
For its sake — to subserve its function — all other organs and 
functions were erected, and hence the one end of life should 
be to promote its action. 

But this mentality must have its organ. Nature's univer- 
sal motto is — an organ for every function. As digestion, cir- 
culation, motion, hearing, and each of the other physical func- 
tions are performed by means of organs, shall not this crown- 
ing function of all have its organ also ? It has ; and that 
organ is the brain — an apparatus every way perfectly adapted 
to execute the mental functions. 


Fully to prove that the brain is the organ of the mind, is 
not our present purpose ^^, but its adaptation to this end. This 
will be seen in 


" This dome of thought, this palace of the soul" occupies 
the cavity formed by the skull, and of course constitutes 
much of that crown of humanity — the head. Being extremely 
delicate, it is protected by the skull, the spherical form of which 
is admirably calculated to guard it against injury, break the 
force of contusions, and prevent fractures. Beneath this 
skull is a tough, hard membrane, called the dura mater, which 
envelopes the brain, and dipping down lengthwise through its 
middle portion, partially separates it into two halves, called 
hemispheres. Under this is a thin lubricating film called the 
arachnoid, or spider's- web membrane, and below it again is still 
another fine-textured vascular membrane, which dips down into 
all the folds of the brain, and is perfectly full of blood-vessels 
and nerves, being to the brain, probably, what the skin is to the 
body, the arachnoid membrane corresponding to the rete-mu- 
cosum of the skin, as the dura mater does to the epidermis. 
The same treble structure was also described as belonging to 
the heart, lungs, stomach, intestines, etc. 

The accompanying engraving represents the general struc- 
ture of this organ. Its division into hemispheres by the falx 
or scythe shape process of the dura mater is represented by the 
fissure from G. to G. Those crooked foldings called convolu- 
lions, not unlike the folded structure of the intestines and lungs, 
doubtless subserves a similar purpose, namely, of allowing a 
far greater amount of surface to be folded up in a small com- 
pass^**, so as to praduce a corresponding increase of power 
without much increase of bulk. Else the brain must have 
been enormous. And this conclusion is strengthened by the 
fact, that in inferior animals these convolutions are barely 
perceptible, while, as we rise in the scale of mental capability, 
these convolutions become larger and deeper till we arrive at 
man. And even in the human brain, those who are the most 
talented have the largest, deepest, finest, and most numerous 



No. 20. The Structure of the BRAiff. 

convolutions. Said that celebrated surgeon Geo. McLellan, 
of Philadelphia, " Called some years ago to make a post- 
mortem examination of the brain of one of the most distin- 
guished public men of Delaware. I was perfectly astonished 
at the size and depth of its convolutions ; I never saw any- 
thing like it in .all my life ;" — doubtless because those subjects 
which had come before him in the dissecting-room had been 
those of inferior mental endowments, and consequently of 
smaller convolutions. 

These folds, and of course the substance of the brain, are 
composed of two widely differing substances — the outer called 
cineritious, from its pale ash color, and also cortical from its 
surrounding the other, while the inner is white in color, and 
made up of converging and diverging fibres, and called medul- 
lary. These two substances are well represented in the fol- 
lowing engraving. Its dark folds are designated by figures 
1 to 14. 

The outer rim represents the skull, and those dots in it in- 
dicate its diploe — cells stationed to break the force of blows 



No. 21. A Perpendicular Section of the Brain and Skull. 

and prevent fracture. Those waves or lobes containing the 
figures represent the cineritious substance, and below it the 
medullary, the fine diverging lines of which represent the 
thread-like or fibrous structure of the brain. 

The folds just described are here seen to appertain to the 
cineritious or outer portion of the brain, and this is undoubtedly 
that portion, the action of which produces mind. If this be 
so, the existence of convolutions on the two sides of the falx — 
just where the above section of the brain is made — goes to 
show that those lobes numbered, from 2 to 14, are phrenologi- 
cal organs, which is doubtless the case. 

The brain is exceedingly soft — about the consistency of jelly 
— and its inner or medullary portion is composed of two sets 
of nerves, one of which converges from its center to its sur- 


face, and the other from its surface to its center. These 
nervous fibres are filled with a semi-fluid — indeed, four-fifths 
of the substance of the brain and nerves are water — called 
neurine, and probably exercises and transmits sensation and 
mental action by means of undulations or motions. 


A thick membrane resembling the dura mater, called the ten- 
torium, is stretched across horizontally just at 2, fig. 18, separat- 
ing the brain into two divisions, the upper and larger of which is 
called the cerebrum or brain proper, which performs the men- 
tal functions, and the lower and smaller of which is called the 
cerebellum, or little brain, and in all probability serves to 
carry on the physical functions. Sever the nerve which 
passes between the brain and stomach, and hunger is de- 
stroyed, and digestion suspended. The stomach simply 
digests, whereas hunger and gustatory pleasure are experi- 
enced by an organ of the stomach, located in the cerebellum, 
called Alimentiveness. In like manner, the sexual emotion 
is not experienced in its apparatus, but in the cerebellum, by 
a cerebral organ called Amativeness. Now since two of the 
physical functions are known to be performed by means of cere- 
bral organs acting in conjunction with the physical, the former 
stimulated by the latter — that is, since the stomach and sexual 
apparatus have their cerebral organs in the cerebellum — have 
not the heart, lungs, muscles, liver, bowels, pancreas, kidneys, 
and all the other organs of the body, also their cerebral organs 
in the cerebellum ? By what law the two former and not the 
latter? Are such variations and exceptions in accordance 
with nature ? That law of universality already presented '^, 
settles this matter in the affirmative, and shows the true office 
of the cerebellum, namely, to perform the physical func- 

This conclusion is admirably fortified by the fact that all 
the nerves which connect the brain with the body, proceed 
from the cerebellum, as seen in the accompanying engrav- 
ing — none from the cerebrum. This establishes the most 
perfectly reciprocal inter-relation between the body and cere- 



fiellum, and the near relationship of the cerebellum and 
oerebrum renders their states also reciprocal, and thus is 
proved and explained that perfect reciprocity between all the 

No. 22. The Nerves of the Brain. 

states of the body and mind already pointed out ^^ '^ '^ ^®, and 
to be hereafter more fully applied. 

These facts and deductions establish the conclusion that the 
brain does something besides think and feel — that it generates 
and sends forth that "vis animse" or vital spirit which ani- 
mates all parts of the body, infuses life and action into them, 
and sets and keeps the entire human machinery in motion ; so 
that its healthy state is essential to that of the body, and the 
disease of the one also causes the disease of the other. 


One other fact in the anatomy of the brain deserves special 
attention — its commissures. That falciform fissure already 
described, which extends from the root of the nose over the 
top of the head to the nape of the neck, and separates the 
brain into its hemispheres, dips down an inch and a half or 



two inches below the top of the head, till it meets with an 
arch-shaped bundle of nerves, some of which run backward 
and forward, thus uniting the frontal with the occipital portion 
of the brain, and others running crosswise from side to sMe of 
the head, thus uniting the two hemispheres of the brain. This 
nervous bundle is called the corpus callosum, and its arched 
structure forms a commissure, into which a yellowish fluid is 
continually poured, and from which it is absorbed as continu- 
ally, except in cases of hydrocephalic affections, or water on 
the brain, when it is retained, infuses itself in between the 
nerves of the brain, and expands the skull. This structure 
will be fully seen in the accompanying engraving of a section 

No. 23. The Corpus Callosum. 

M M those folds on the two sides of the falx already de- 
scribed. H the corpus callosum or cris-cross bundle of arched 
fibres, and right under it, or between it and F the great commis- 
sure we are describing. I is at the back of the head, where the 
tentorium separates the cerebellum from the cerebrum, and that 
limb and its branches, called the arbor vite, shows the internal 
jti-ucture of the cerebellum ; A spinal marrow ; B C Pons varolii ; 
K optic nerve. 


of the brain from the nose over the middle of the head, along 
the falx down to the spinal marrow. 

The SEAT OE THE SOUL is probably in this commissure, and 
the corpus callosum undoubtedly serves to impart that concert 
to all the faculties called consciousness, by which one faculty 
calls up such of the others as may be required to accomplish 
the end sought. Yet as this point does not come clearly within 
our proposed range of description, its proof and full elucidation 
must be transferred to some other place. 



The nerves are but a continuation or extension of the sub- 
stance of the brain throughout the system. This is effected 
by means of the spinal cord d, fig 19, which is enclosed in the 
spinal column or back-bone. The substance of this cord and 
of the nerves, closely resembles that of the brain, except that 
the cineritious is inside and the medullary on the outside — a 
reversion having taken place. 

This cord gives off nerves at each spinal joint to the heart, 
lungs, stomach, liver, viscera, and all the other internal organs. 
When these organs become chronically irritated, inflamed, or 
diseased, their nerves become similarly affected, so that, since 
each of these nerves unite with the spinal cord at its own par- 
ticular joint and no other, by pressing on the joint which re- 
ceives the nerve of the heart, a soreness, perhaps sharp pain, 
will be experienced by the patient, and thus of all the other 
internal organs. This test of disease is infallible, and tells 
at once and with certainty whether any of the vital organs are 
affected, and if so, which — five minutes being sufficient to de- 
cide the matter without mistake. 

Nerves also go off through these joints to the hands, feet, 
muscles, bones, and every portion of the body. Another 
nervous track is called the great sympathetic nerve, which 


traverses the cavity of the chest from thorax to abdomen. 
Thus a double nervous inter-communion of all the organs of 
the body is maintained both with each other and with their 
common center — the brain. These nerves are always found in 
close proximity with blood vessels — both arteries and nerves — 
the three always accompanying each other throughout the 
system. And not only is every principal nerve thus supplied 
with blood-vessels, but even every shred of every nerve, and 
not only every muscle, but even every fibre of every muscle, 
similarly supplied with both blood-vessels and nerves. Wher- 
ever there is life, there also will nerves be found, and the 
more life in any animated thing or part there the more 


These nerves are of three kinds — those of sensation, those 
of voluntary motion, and those of involuntary motion. The 
nerves of sensation proceed from the back half of the spin-al 
cord, and those of motion from the anterior half, and soon af- 
ter they issue through the joints they unite, are incased in one 
common sheath, and cannot be distinguished from each other. 
Yet on cutting the nerve, say that which goes to the hand 
or issues from the anterior half of the spinal cord, all sen- 
sation is destroyed, so that the hand may be cut, burnt, any- 
thing, without feeling it, while on cutting that from the poste- 
rior half, all power of motion is destroyed. The involuntary 
nerves go to the heart, lungs, stomach, and other internal or- 
gans so as to cary on their several functions irrespective of 
the will, while asleep, and when attending to the affairs of 
life, an arrangement absolutely indispensable. 

The nerves of voluntary motion are distributed mainly to 
the muscles and enable us to govern them at will — to move 
the hands, feet, and body, in accordance with the determina- 
tions of the will, of which all of us are perpetually conscious; 
while those of sensation are ramified mostly upon the surface 
of the body, stationed as sentinels upon the outer walls to warn 
against the approach of all enemies to life and health — to tell 
us when we are too warm, or too cold, or in contact with any- 


thing injurious. The opinion has already been expressed that 
the skin consists of a network of blood-vessels and nerves — 
an opinion confirmed by the fibrous and porous structure of 
leather, especially when tanned to excess — so minutely rami- 
fied that the finest needle cannot be thrust through any part of 
it without lacerating and paining some of them. The minute- 
ness of this ramification is absolutely inconceivable. Nature 
is as infinite in her littleness as in her greatness. Our huge 
earth, compared with which a mountain is as a grain of sand, 
is but an atom compared with her planetary sisters, Saturn 
and Jupiter, and even the whole solar system itself is a mole- 
hill compared with its grand center, the sun, so massive as to 
baflfle all known attempts at comprehension. Nor this merely, 
but sun and planets if rolled together into one mighty pile, 
the merest hillock compared with that vast belt of suns and 
worlds perceptible to human vision. And even all this prob- 
ably only a speck of the boundless universe ! O God, how 
vast is thy greatness ! ^'^^ 

Yet this same Infinite Architect of the universe descends as 
far below us in littleness as he rises above us in vastness. 
Infinite magnitude, infinite capillary ramifications, are both 
alike to him. Words utterly fail to describe, and the human 
mind to conceive, the fineness of these capillary formations, as 
in the structure of his lungs, blood-vessels, pores, and nerves. 
Verily, " thy ways, O God, are infinite.^' In this infinite lit- 
tleness of nervous ramification in the skin, sensation takes 
place. These nerves ultimately end in an infinitude of lit- 
tle papillae or feelers, which cover the entire surface of 
the body, and create that sensation of which we are all con- 

This capillary nervous structure, as also the general ar- 
rangement of the nervous system, is well illustrated in the fol- 
lowing engraving. 

These nerves are much more abundant at the surface of 
the body than internally ; and hence amputations, and all 
cuttings and bruises, biles and sores, the greatest pain is 
nearest the skin — it being comparatively slight after the cut 
<vf hurt has fairly passed below the skin. Yet when a bone 



No. 24. The Nervous System. 

has become inflamed it is also exceedingly painful, yet here 
also the pain is mainly at its surface. Since the inner por- 
tions are protected by the outer, as great a supply internally 
as externally would be a useless expenditure of vitality. 

Yet a still greater sentry of nerves is stationed at some 
points than at others — about the eyes, hands, and especially 
ends of the fingers, the utility of which is beyond all computa- 
tion, as all know by perpetual experience. 




The importance of the sensation thus effected is incalcula- 
ble. Without it we could never know when we were too 
cold, or too warm ; when our flesh was burning, or freezing, or 
bruised, or mangled, or experiencing any sort of injury or de- 
struction, unless we chanced to see it. But now, the instant 
they come in contact with whatever injures them or the sys- 
tem, they take on a painful action, and thus cause a spontane- 
ous shrinking from the noxious body, which saves from farther 
damage. The suddenness with which this warning and 
shrinking occur as when we touch fire, or are cut, or pricked 
with any sharp instrument is astonishing. The very instant 
we touch fire, for example, we jerk the part burned from it, 
yet, instantaneous as it is, the nerves feel pain, telegraph that 
pain to the brain, muster the will, which gives the muscles a 
mandate to remove the part affected, and they obey — all in the 
twinkling of an eye. The importance of this instantaneous- 
ness is very great, because the injury in cases of burns, punc- 
tures, bruises, etc., is extremely rapid, so that, but for this 
instantaneousness, great havoc would occur before it could be 
arrested, which this suddenness now prevents. This arrange- 
ment of pain, then becomes one of the most useful institutions 
of our nature ^ 


But this function of pain is by no means the only one ex- 
perienced by these nerves — indeed, is not their chief, or 
even their natural one ^. Strictly speaking, it is their abnor- 
mal function. They never take on this painful action except 
the body is abnormally affected, and when they do, do so as a 
matter of necessity, not as their natural function. Their nor- 
mal function is to yield a pleasurable sensation when and be- 
cause the body is in a natural and therefore agreeable state *. 
For such a state nature has amply provided. Every arrange- 
ment of external nature is adapted to give them pleasure, and 
this is their sole product when their laws are observed, such 
painful action being consequent only on the violation of such 
laws. Nor do we realize how much pleasure they yield us. 


Like breathing, it is so perpetual as not to be appreciated, yet 
it is none the less real. And it might be doubled many times 
over if we but kept them in a perfectly healthy and highly 
active state. Take some examples. Your face, before it is 
washed in the morning, does not feel half that pleasurable 
glow experienced on washing it. Why ? Because the ablu- 
tion cleanses and quickens these nerves. Or wash say one 
limb, hand, or arm, or half of the body, or a part of a limb, 
and not the balance, and the washed portions will feel as 
much more clean, susceptible, and comfortable as can well be 
imagined. The experiment is well worth trying, and power- 
fully enforces the importance of those ablutions of the whole 
body already recommended '^°. Nor do those know who have 
not tried the experiment how much more lively, brisk, buoy- 
ant, and happy, bathing renders those who practice it, not 
at the time merely, but for hours, and perhaps days after- 

So also colds which impair the sensitiveness of these nerves, 
either benumb them so that they feel but little, or fever them, 
and cause a kind of restless, crawling, burning, sensation, 
which makes us almost want to "jump out of our skin." 
What we call the creevels consist in a crawling, feverish, 
painful state of these nerves, and can be obviated by restoring 
them to healthy action. Nor can we conceive how much of 
our suffering comes directly and indirectly from the disordered 
and therefore painful condition of these nerves ; nor how su- 
perlatively happy we could render ourselves by keeping these 
feelers in a vigorous and perfectly healthy state. But the entire 
drift of our habits tends to deaden and disorder them, and 
thus to convert the pleasure they were created to confer into 
pain. We begin to vitiate these nerves in the cradle by extra 
dressing and a confined and over-heated atmosphere ^^"j and go 
on to weaken and disorder them more and more through life. 
Every cold we take, they suffer — are the chief sufferers. 
This we never need to do, and ought by all means to avoid. 
Have you never felt, while suffering from . cold, an inde- 
scribable sensation of nervous crawling uneasiness, amounting 
to intense pain, so that you could neither sit, nor stand, nor 


walk, nor lie still, but seek a perpetual change of place, yet 
without finding relief? You feel as though you would fain 
spring right away from yourself, or, snake-like, shed your 
skin — if you could only relieve yourself from this wretched 
state of feeling. This state of the nervous system is particu- 
larly apparent when we have taken cold — its warnings heeded 
would prevent all colds — and in the incipient stages of fever, 
while the chills of ague and fever are on, and generally when 
we are unwell. What are called nervous, hystericky people, 
are particularly liable to its attack, and their condition is 
indeed pitiable. Yet they should not have brought on this 
nervous disorder. 


But the evils of diseased nerves do not stop here. They 
extend also to the mind, and render the entire being more and 
still more wretched the more they are disordered. They not 
only inflict the creevles and the fidgets upon the body, but still 
more upon the mind. That connection of the nerves of the 
skin with all the nerves of the body ^^^ and of the latter with 
the cerebellum ^^^, and through it with the cerebrum, engen- 
ders the same condition in the brain which exists in the nerves 
'^ ^® '^ It is not possible for the nerves of the skin to be 
affected, without similarly affecting both brain and mind. If 
the former are in a feverish, unhappy, or painful state, they 
diffuse that state throughout all we think, say, do, desire, and 
feel. Nervous people — by these are meant those whose nerves 
are disordered, though all have nerves — are always fretful. 
They feel wretchedly in body and mind ; and if they do not 
worry, tew, and find fault with everybody and everything, 
it is not because they do not feel irritable. Disordered nerves 
would render an angel as cross as a fury. However amiable 
a woman may be by nature, just as surely as her nerves 
become disordered just so surely she becomes peevish and fret- 
ful, if not ill-natured and bad-dispositioned. She would find 
fault in paradise if there, thus disordered. But, restore 
her nerves to their normal, and therefore happy state, and 
you restore her to her original serenity of mind and sweetness 


of temper. What worried her before now gives her pleasure. 
She' laughs now at what she scolded then. Those mental 
troubles which then preyed upon her mind, have now taken 
their flight. Indeed, she was troubled in mind only because 
disordered in body. The troubles of such are imaginary, 
not real ; or if real, are magnified in the exact ratio of the 
disease of their nerves. If such have no real cause of trou- 
ble, they will make it out of whole cloth. As every motion 
and touch in the gathering bile give pain, which, if well, 
would give pleasure, so with their minds. The irritation of 
their nerves irritates the brain, and this renders them inor- 
dinately irritable about trifles, even in spite of everything 
calculated to promote a cheerful and happy flfeme of mind. 
Trifles excite them more than should the cares of kingdoms. 
A great load presses perpetually upon them. They feel as 
though some terrible calamity — what, they know not — im- 
pended over them, ready to fall upon and crush them. Their 
excited imaginations magnify molehills till they become moun- 
tains. They are rendered wretched from morning till night 
by a perpetual fever of excitement ; tossed back and forth 
by currents and counter currents of feeling, which they find 
it impossible to control. At one time, they are elated beyond 
measure, and full of ecstasy. Some trifling thing, too insig- 
nificant to affect a healthy brain, casts them into the very 
depths of despair. The sensibilities are morbidly alive to 
everything. They retire to their couch, but not to sleep. 
The boiling blood courses through their veins, while the labor- 
ing pulsations of their hearts shake their whole frame. Their 
thoughts wander to the ends of the earth, but to no purpose. 
They think and feel upon everything, only to increase their 
disease, and aggravate their mental sufferings. If Cautious- 
ness be large, they are afraid of their own shadows, and see 
their path filled with lions and tigers. If Approbativeness 
predominate, they thirst for fame, but see the cup of praise 
dashed from their lips by merely imaginary neglects, or re- 
proofs which are so construed as to induce the deepest chagrin 
and mortification. They seek sleep, but find it not. Hour 
after hour they turn upon their damask couches, exhausted 


by mental action, even to prostration, but unable to compose 
their excited, erratic feelings. Their brighest thoughts flit like 
meteore across their mental horizon, only to vanish in midnight 
darkness. And if tardy sleep at last folds them in his arms, 
frightful dreams disturb their shallow slumbers, and they 
awake enshrouded in deep, impenetrable melancholy. They 
feel most keenly, only to feel most wretchedly. Now and 
then, a sign, or groan, or " O dear me !" escapes them, and 
they internally feel, " O wretched man that I am." They feel 
burthened with, they know not what, but this only oppresses 
them the more. Things, otherwise their joy, are now their 
misery, and everything sweet is rendered bitter. Their 
nervous energies are wrought up to the highest pitch of in- 
flamed action ; yet they have no strength to endure this excite- 
ment. Days and weeks roll on only to augment their mise- 
ries, and to increase their exhaustion. Their excited minds 
thirst for books, but mental application only enhances both 
their malady and its miseries. Do what they will, be they in 
what circumstances they may, their disordered nerves turn all 
they touch into occasions of wretchedness. The difierence 
between the talents, character, and happiness of the same per- 
son when his nerves are healthy and vv^hen diseased, is heaven- 
wide. None can ever know but those who know by experi- 
ence. The way is thus prepared for showing 


Since healthy nerves render us thus happy, and disordered 
nerves thus miserable, the inquiry just proposed becomes as 
important as happiness is desirable and pain dreadful. Our 
answer is, let them " whistle themselves" ^^ Do nothing to 
derange them, and they will never disorder themselves. The 
two general directions are, first, keep the skin clean and ac- 
tive by bathing *°^ ^^®, and secondly, give them action. Exer- 
cise is as requisite to them as to the muscles, or lungs, or any 
other portion of the body. Yet who ever thinks of providing 
exercise for them ? One means of securing their action is by 
promoting cerebral action, of which in Vols. II and III, and the 
other by exercising them direct. Nor can I resist the convic- 


tion that nature abounds with herbs and things, which, applied 
externally, in the form of ointments or decoctions, will secure 
a most delightful glow of nervous feeling, and consequently of 
comfort, bordering on ecstasy. Yet this is only inferential. 

But the great direction, after all, is, not to over-tax them by 
highly stimulating meats and drinks, such as alcoholic and 
fermented drinks, narcotics, as tea, coffee, tobacco, and opium, 
or mustards, spices, and condiments generally. And they usu- 
ally begin their work of derangement in the cradle. No kind 
of stimulants should ever be administered to children or youth. 
They are sufficiently excitable and active already. Opium 
in any of its forms is most detrimental for infants. But of this 
also in " Maternity." 

But mental excitement, anxiety, and trouble, more effectu- 
ally derange the nervous system than any other cause, and 
should therefore be avoided. The fact is, all should arrange 
their houses, lands, business, domestic affairs, and everything 
around them, little and great, so as to render themselves as 
happy as possible, and by all means avoid occasions of sad 
feelings and vexations. And if trouble does overtake them, as 
the loss of friends, domestic difficulties, failure in business, or 
anything of the like, banish it as far as possible from the 
mind, and try to think on what gives pleasure. Children 
also should be crossed and provoked, and especially flogged 
as little as possible, because the painful excitement thus occa- 
sioned is directly calculated to disorder the nervous system. 

To show how to restore disordered nerves would now be in 
point, yet can be more effectually presented presently. 

Having expounded the principal organs and functions of the 
human body, and shown how to preserve them in a healthy 
and vigorous state of action, we are thus brought to consider 
the general subject of diseases and their remedy, which, next 
to the preservation of health, becomes an all absorbing subject 
of human inquiry. 







All the physiological organs thus far described, though their 
normal function is fraught only with life and happiness ^°, yet 
are capable of taking on that abnormal or diseased function 
which results in pain and constitutes disease. Indeed, sick- 
ness and disease consist in nothing else. They assume differ- 
ent forms according to the organs disordered, the degree of 
the disorder, and some other circumstances ; yet the nature 
of disease is much less complex than generally supposed. 

Nor are these diseases incurable. So far therefrom, the 
existence of remedial agents is not a matter of doubt but of 
experimental fact. Though neither pain nor disease form 
any part of the ordinances of nature, yet a secondary provision 
for their existence consists in the fact that the violation of the 
physical laws occasions them, thus warning us against farther 
violation. And here nature might have left us. All broken 
bones, severed nerves and blood-vessels, and all other conse- 
quences of broken law might have been left in that state in 
which they occurred. But an infinitely benevolent God has 
devised a remedial principle — has made provision for a more 
or less complete re-union of broken bones and lascerated blood- 
vessels, muscles, and nerves, and for a restoration of debilitated 
and disordered functions — a provision as beautiful in device 
as useful in result. 

Nor is this curative process contracted in scope or feeble in 
power. So far therefrom, it is almost a universal panacea. 


Though a few of the violations of the physical laws are pun- 
ished with incurable penalties, such as an amputated head, a 
pierced heart, and the like, yet most cases of disease, poisons 
not excepted, taken in season, can undoubtedly be cured. In 
fact, nature seems to have taken the utmost pains to vary her 
remedies so as to cure most if not all the " ills that flesh is 
heir to." As, wherever any venomous serpent inhabits, there 
will also be found some herb which, seasonably applied, will 
effectually cure its bite, so doubtless of all other forms of 
disease '\ Nor need we import medicines, for they will be 
found wherever disease can exist, every way adapted to all 
the disorders incident to its locality. 


These medicines abound in the vegetable kingdom ; and 
abounding there, why look any farther for them ? Since some 
are there, why not all ? ^'' And since simple medicines exist 
in the vegetable kingdom already prepared at our hands by 
nature, why resort to art ? Can man compound and prepare 
them better than God ? Does the laboratory of art surpass 
that of nature ? The simple fact of the existence of remedial 
agents already prepared, shows that we need not take nature's 
work out of her own hands ^'^. 

Especially, must we poison the system in order to cure it ? 
Shall we destroy life to enhance it ? Does that which is con- 
stitutionally hostile to life promote it ? Perfect nonsense. In 
the teeth of every principle of nature. Besides, her entire 
economy is pleasure, never pain^ Now poisons are always 
painful in their operation, besides being nauseous to the taste 
— of itself sufficient to condemn them. As those kinds of 
food which the system requires relish best^^ so we shall 
crave what medicines we require. The curative process is 
constitutionally pleasurable, never painful. So treat a wound 
as to heal it in the best manner possible, and it will feel 
good and comfortable. Only what interferes with its re- 
storation, occasions pain. And this law holds true of all 
forms of convalesence. This new view of the restorative 
process is true, theoretically and practically. Shall obeyed 


law give us pleasure ^, and a return from transgression to obe- 
dience necessarily occasion pain ? Does anything but viola- 
ted law cause suffering ? ° Of course, then, medicines bitter to 
the taste or painful in their operation, nature condemns in and 
by the very pain they occasion. Since obedience to law is 
followed by pleasure, therefore whatever the system requires, 
will give us pleasure, all pleasure. I can read nature in no 
other way. What medicines the system requires it will 
CRAVE AND LOVE. Not that bitter medicines should never be 
taken, but that, when required, their very bitterness will be 
sweet. Otherwise, nature inflicts pain to secure pleasure, 
which she never does. Her motto is, all good, no evil. Any 
other view of nature misrepresents and belies her ; or, rather 
exposes him who makes it. Though she often brings good out 
of evil, and makes even the wrath of man serve her, yet she 
brings still greater good out of all good. Our shortest and 
surest road from sickness to health, therefore, never conducts 
us through what is repulsive or painful, but only through what 
is pleasurable. This fully established principle of nature 
unequivocally condemns 


The very principle upon which they act, is their destruc- 
tion of life. Taken in health, they induce sickness ; much 
more aggravate it. And their reputation for curing diseases 
is due mainly to abstinence from food, perspiration, and empty- 
ing the stomach, all of which can be effected by processes en- 
tirely harmless. Their effect upon the teeth alone, brands 
them with unequivocal condemnation ; for whatever injures 
them first, disorders the stomach. Their decay foretokens in- 
cipient dyspepsia. Hence, since they are always impaired 
by these medicines — and whoever has taken poison is a living 
witness of this fact — they of course always enfeeble the 

Narrowing down our observation to that popular medicine 

CALOMEL. It powerfully stimulates the liver, but stimulates 

by POISONING it. Hence liver affections almost always follow 

its administration — always except when both stomach and 



liver are extra powerful. Dyspepsia follows its use almost as 
surely as sunrise daylight, because induced thereby. Let ob- 
servation, the more extensive the better, pronounce the verdict. 
Language can never adequately portray its ravages on health 
and life. On this point hear Professor Chapman, of Philadel- 
phia, to his class : — 

Gentlemen : — If you could see what I almost daily see in my 
private practice in this city, persons from the South, in the very last 
stages of wretched existence, emaciated to a skeleton, with both 
tables of the skull almost completely perforated in many places, 
the nose half gone, with rotten jaws, ulcerated throats, breaths 
more pestiferous, more intolerable than poisonous upas, limbs racked 
with the pains of the Inquisition, minds as imbecile as the puling 
babe, a grievous burden to themselves and a disgusting spectacle to 
others, you would exclaim as I have often done, ' O ! the lamenta- 
ble want of science that dictates the abuse of that noxious drug 
calomel in the Southern States !' Gentlemen, it is a disgi-aceful 
reproach to the profession of medicine, it is quackery, horrid, un- 
warranted, murderous quackery. What merit do gentlemen of the 
South flatter themselves they possess by being able to salivate a 
patient ? Cannot the veriest fool in Christendom salivate — give 
calomel? But I will ask another question. Who can stop its 
career at will, after it has taken the reins in its own destructive 
AND UNGOVERNABLE HANDS ? He who, for an Ordinary cause, re- 
signs the fate of his patient to mercury, is a vile enemy to the sick ; 
and if he is tolerably popular, will, in one successful season, have 
paved the way for the business of life ; for he has enough to do 
ever afterwards to stop the mercurial breach of the constitutions 
of his dilapidated patients. He has thrown himself in fearful 
proximity to death, and has now to fight him at arms-length as long 
as the patient maintains a miserable existence." 

Dr. Graham, of Edinburgh, in speaking of mercurial medi- 
cines, says : — 

" They affect the human constitution in a peculiar manner, 
taking, so to speak, an iron grasp of all its systems, and penetrating 
even to the bones, by which they not only change the healthy ac- 
tion of its vessels, and general structure, but greatly impair and 
destroy its energies ; so that their abuse is rarely overcome. When 
the tone of the stomach, intestines, or nervous symptoms generally, 
has been once injured by this mineral, according to my experience, 
(and I have paid considerable attention to the subject,) it could sel- 
dom afterwards be restored. I have seen many persons to whom it 
has been largely given for the removal of different complaints, who 
before they took it, knew not what indigestion and nervous depression 
meant, only by the description of others ; but they have sioce become 


experimentally acquainted with both, for they now constantly com- 
plain of weakness and irritability of the digestive organs, of frequent 
lowness of spirits and impaired strength; all of which it appears 
to me, they will ever be sensible. Instances of this description 
abound. Many of the victims of this practice, are aware of this 
origin of their permanent indisposition, and many more who are at 
present unconscious of it, might here find, upon investigation, a suf- 
ficient cause for their sleepless nights and miserable days. We 
have often had every benevolent feeling called into painful exercise, 
upon viewing patients already exhausted by proti-acted illness, 
groaning under the accumulated miseries of an active course of 
mercury, and by this forever deprived of perfect restoration. A 
barbarous practice, the inconsistency, folly, and injury of which no 
words can sufficiently describe." 

This is the testimony of its friends — of distinguished mem- 
bers of the medical faculty — and is true of the principle on 
which calomel and all mineral poisons act. And the more 
virulent the poison, the worse. Those who take them, may 
recover, yet it will be in spite of both disease and medicine. 
And their recovery will be slow, and constitutions impaired. 

" But," retorts one, " I took calomel, arsenic, quinine, 
and other condensed poisons, was immediately relieved, and 
more robust afterwards than before." Aye, but how long 
did you remain so ? In a few months your stomach became 
impaired, and various aches, to which you were before a 
stranger, afflicted you. Still, all are quite welcome to swal- 
low all the rank poisons they please, but for one, however sick, 
I should rely on other remedies, particularly perspiration. 

Scarcely less detrimental than these poisons is that draining 
of the life's blood which generally accompanies it. It does 
not extract the disease, or at least only in proportion as it 
withdraws life itself, and repeated depletion diverts the vital 
energies from brain and muscle to the extra manufacture of 
blood . 

A summary of these medicinal principles shows that we 
place far less reliance on medicines, even vegetable, as resto- 
rative agents, than on physiological prescriptions. Obey the 
laws of health, and we need not be sick, and when sick a re- 
turn to this obedience is the most direct road to health. 
Still the existence of medicines shows that they should be 


taken. Yet, why in the present highly condensed form? 
Why not in that diluted form in which we find them in na- 
ture ? In short, why not take them along with our food ? 


That certain kinds of food are eminently medicinal, is a 
matter of universal experience. Thus, many kinds act as 
powerful cathartics. Then why not follow nature and always 
move the bowels by diet instead of by concentrated medi- 
cines ? But we shall touch this point again. What we wish 
now, is to establish the principle that nature has furnished us 
with all the medicines we require in food, and that medicines 
thus administered, are always efficacious, and never " leave a 
sting behind." We have already shown that what the system 
requires, it will relish % and that what is either repulsive to 
the taste or painful in its operation is therefore injurious^^ ; 
the plain inference from which is, that whenever the system 
requires any particular kind of medicine, appetite will crave 
those kinds of food which will effect a cure. Every medici- 
nal law of nature centers in this focus. Granted, that man- 
kind has not yet ascertained a tithe of the different kinds of 
food adapted to remedy given diseases, yet the fact that some 
kinds are "good for some complaints," taken in connection 
with that wholesale law already demonstrated^^, establishes 
the conclusion that all diseases have their specific cures in par- 
ticular kinds and commixtures of diet. I can read nature's 
curative laws in no other light. Yet more on this point under 
the cure of dyspepsia. 

" But when we are sick we have no appetite for any 
kind of food," objects one. Then fast. This is what your 
system then demands ^^ ^^ ^^ . Let it not be supposed that we 
rely mainly on medicines, nor even on medicinal food, to cure 
diseases, but on a general observance of the laws of health, 
and medicines, in food and out of it, as secondary aids. Na- 
ture is our great physician. Those patients who put them- 
selves under her treatment may rest assured of a speedy and 
efTectual cure. 





What but proportion between those attractive and repulsive 
forces which cause the motion of the earth, keeps it in its 
orbit ? As the top of the tree increases, so do its roots ; and 
any great amputation of either, without a corresponding prun- 
ing of the other, proves injurious. This law runs through- 
out the vegetable kingdom. It obtains equally in the animal 
economy. Nature requires and compels us to breathe the 
more the more we exercise. Thus, the more we use our 
muscles, as in working hard, walking fast, or up hill, running, 
lifting, and the like, the more we must breathe ; the increase 
of respiration being exactly in proportion to that of muscular 
action. Of this all are witnesses every time they increase or 
diminish their exercise. Nor will nature allow us to breathe 
copiously without proportionate action of body or mind. 

This law applies equally, though less obviously, to food. 
Who does not know that labor and all kinds of exertion, 
whether mental or physical, enhance the digestion as well 
as appetite for food ? Hence, laborers eat more than seden- 
taries. And those who will eat more than do, must suffer. 
This law cannot be broken with impunity. In fact, the broken 
constitutions of most of those who go from the farm and the 
workshop to college, or some sedentary occupation, are caused 
mainly by violating this law of proportion. They continue 
to eat as before, yet do not work off that food, and hence the 
head-aches, ennui, debility, nervousness, dyspepsia, and kin- 
dred diseases of our literary and sedentary classes. Study 
does not make them invalids, but is actually promotive of 
health and longevity. They are enfeebled by over-taxing 
their stomachs while they starve their muscles for want of 


Take that city belle, rendered delicate, nervous, sickly, 
miserable, by excessive nervous and cerebral derangement 
consequent on novel reading, parties, amusements, and all the 
excitement of fashionable city life. Medicines can never cure 
her, but work can. Her malady consists in a predominance 
of nerve over muscle, and her remedy in restoring the balance 
between them. She is doomed either to wear out a miserable 
existence, or else to exercise her muscles ; nor can salvation 
come from any other source. And one of the great reasons 
v/hy journeyings, visitsT;o springs, voyages, and the like, often 
effect such astonishing cures, is that they relieve the nervous 
system, and at the same time increase muscular and vital action. 
The same exercise taken at home, will cure them quite as speed- 
ily and effectually by the same means — a restoration of propor- 
tion between their functions. Nine in every ten of the inva 
lids of our land, are undoubtedly rendered feeble by this one 
cause, and can be cured by labor. How many thousands, so 
weakly and sickly that they begin to despair of life, finally 
give up their business and move upon a farm, and soon find 
themselves well. Exercise has often cured those who have 
been bedridden many years, as seen in the following. 

A physician of some repute in Lowell, Mass., was called 
thirty miles in great haste, to see a sick woman, whose case 
had thus far baffled all medical treatment, and was regarded 
by all her friends as hopeless. All they expected was merely 
to mitigate a disease of long standing : recovery being con- 
sidered out of the question. The doctor came, saw that she 
was very nervous, and had been dosed almost to death, and 
told her that if she would follow his directions implicitly, he 
could cure her ; for he had one kind of medicine of great 
power, but which was useful only in cases exactly like hers, 
in which it was an infallible cure. After telling her how 
often she must take it, he added, that she must get up and 
WALK ACROSS THE ROOM the sccoud day, and ride out the 
third. " Oh, that she could never do, for she had not been 
off her bed in many years, and was so very weak," etc., etc. 
<'0h, but," said the doctor, "this medicine will give you so 
much strength that you will be able to do so, and it will pre- 


vent any injurious consequences arising therefrom. And, be- 
sides," he added, " the medicine will not operate, unless you 
stir about some. Do just as I tell you, and you will be off 
your bed in ten days." She sent an express thirty miles, the 
medicine being so rare that he did not take it with him, after 
his bread pills, rolled in aloes, to make them taste like medi- 
cine, and took them and the exercise as prescribed, and the 
third day she actually got into a carriage, and in ten days 
was able to leave her bed, and soon after was able to work, 
and yet lives to be a blessing to her family, and to pour upon 
the doctor a literal flood of gratitude for performing so won- 
derful a cure — a cure which none of the doctors had been 
able to effect, and which nothing but restoring the lost pro- 
portion between her nerves and muscles could have effected. 
Nor do I hesitate to affirm, as my deliberate conviction, that 
nineteen-twentieths of the invalids, especially females, of our 
land are rendered so mainly by excessive nervous and deficient 
muscular and vital action, and can be cured by banishing 
care, and exercising in the open air. 

I say in the open air, because many are rendered invalids, 
not by want of sufficient exercise, but by insufficient breath. 
Yet females, and those who work hard in-doors perpetually, 
such as clerks in packing, unpacking, etc., often lose their 
health because they do not breathe in proportion to their ex- 
ercise. That is, they inhale rarefied air, and thus do not ob- 
tain a supply of oxygen adequate to its consumption. The 
object of breathing is to obtain this oxygen, and the reason 
why we breathe the more the more we exercise, is that we 
obtain the more oxygen. But when, though we breathe co- 
piously, we do not obtain a due supply of oxygen, the evil is 
analogous to a proportionate suspension of breath ^^ Such 
should work less, and thus preserve the proportion between the 
consumption and the supply of oxygen. 

Consumptive families and patients furnish another illustra- 
tion of this principle. Why consumptive ? Because their 
brains and nerves predominate over their vital and muscular 
apparatus, as is evinced by the fact that they are slim, sharp- 
featured, small-chested, and have small muscles, great sen- 


sitiveness, intense feelings, clear heads, and fine feelings. 
This DISPROPORTION of function constitutes their consumptive 
tendency. Restore the balance and you obviate the tendency. 
Or thus, their lungs are too small for their brains. Apoplexy, 
gout, obesity, corpulency, and the like, are caused by the oppo- 
site extreme, and can be cured by eating less and working more. 

Precocious children and youth furnish still another illustra- 
tion of our doctrine. How frequent the expression " that 
child is too smart to live ;" because general observation at- 
tests the premature death of most extra smart children. Hear 
that broken-hearted mother enumerate the virtues of her de- 
parted child — ^tell how fond of books, how quick to learn, how 
^pt in his remarks, how sweet-dispositioned and good, all pro- 
udced by excessive cerebral action, and his death by the pre- 
dominance of mind over body. Its head ate up its body. As 
the vital energies cannot be expended twice, and as an ex- 
tremely active brain robs the muscles and vital apparatus '^^, 
the latter cease to grow, become feeble, are attacked by dis- 
ease, and die, and of course the brain also dies. And such 
parents, ignorant of this principle, too often ply such prodigies 
with books and mental stimulants, and thus aggravate the dis- 
proportion and hasten death, whereas they should pursue the 
OPPOSITE course — should use every exertion to restrain cere- 
bral and promote muscular action. 

Extra talented and lovely youth are also more mortal than 
others. The flower of both sexes are more liable to die young 
than those more coarsely organized — because of this same 
preponderance of cerebral over muscular and vital power. A 
large proportion of those who take our first college appoint- 
ments die soon after they graduate, because they have studied, 
studied, studied, night and day, year in and year out, thus 
keeping their brains continually upon the stretch, yet using 
their muscles little more than to go to and from their meals 
and recitations. Is it any wonder that they pay the forfeit of 
impaired health, blighted prospects, and premature death ? 
What an omission that their entire range of classical studies 
should not embrace as important a law as this. 

The working classes furnish a converse illustration of this 


law. They exercise their muscles too much and brains too 
little. They labor, eat, and sleep, and that is about all. To 
those crowning pleasures of humanity, the exercise of mind, 
they are comparative strangers. Their muscles rob their 
brains as effectually as the heads of the literari rob their 
bodies ^^ If they sit down to read, or listen to a speaker, 
they fall asleep. Their finer sensibilities become blunted by 
inaction, just as those of the fashionable classes become mor- 
bid by over action. Their minds are sluggish, thinking pow- 
ers obtuse, feelings hard to rouse, and all their capabilities of 
enjoyment partially palsied, because most of their energies 
are directed to their muscles. Besides this loss of enjoyment, 
they are much more subject to actual disease than they would 
be if they labored less and studied more. 

Slaves furnish still another illustration of the violation of 
this law. They exercise their muscles still more, relatively, 
and their brains still less, books and study being prohibited.* 
Hence no small share of their admitted mental obtuseness. 
This principles also applies measurably to the working classes 
of the old world. Laborers generally might live many years 
longer, and much more happily if they worked less and 
studied more. 

Unhealthy trades, as shoemaking, saddlery, drawing, paint- 
ing, sewing, and the like, are generally rendered so by exer- 
cising only a portion of the system, and can be rendered sa- 
lubrious by calling into vigorous exercise the dormant limbs 
and muscles an hour or two per day^*^ To seamstresses this 
advice is particularly applicable and important. Sitting for 
months together in one posture, arched inwardly and their 
shoulders thrown forward, thus doubly impeding respiration ^^, 
digestion "^ and all the vital functions, at the same time taking 
next to no exercise, no wonder that so many of them break down 
even while learning the business, and sew in misery for life. 

* Can that institution be " all right " which represses intellect 1 Must 
nund, that only ultimate end of human creation be fettered ? The unre- 
stricted exercise of intellect is as inherent a right of every human being 
as breath or sight. 



Let such walk at least two miles per day, or dance an hour be- 
fore retiring '*''; and also sit up straight while they sew, and 
it will not injure them. They should also restrict their diet. 

But the institutions of society are most unfavorable to this 
required proportion of muscular, vital, and mental action. As 
things now are, those who work at all, work excessively ; and 
as labor is considered a disgrace ^^^, all who can, are straining 
every nerve to live without it. Society should be so con- 
structed as to require laborers to work only about half the day, 
and allow them the balance for mental and moral cultivation, 
while the literary, sedentary, and fashionable classes should 
labor several hours every day, if not for wages, at least for 
health. The fullest measure of personal happiness requires 
that all should appropriate about eight hours in every twenty- 
four to the vital apparatus — to sleep and food, or the supply of 
exhausted animal energy — about eight hours more to muscu- 
lar exercise, mostly in the form of manual, productive labor, 
and about eight more to mental cultivation and moral improve- 
ment "°. " All work and no play," cuts off that vast range of 
pleasure designed and adapted to flow into the soul of man 
through the channel of mind ; and continued mental appli- 
cation, by concentrating vitality in the brain, withdraws it 
from the muscles, stomach, and heart, thus impairing respira- 
tion, circulation, and all the vital functions, and of course cur- 
tails talent and even life itself, while epicures, gentlemen and 
ladies of leisure, and all fashionable idlers rob both muscle 
and brain, so that all these classes fail to obtain the great end 
of life — happiness^, whereas, if all would labor about eight 
hours per day, so as to promote all the animal functions and 
ensure health, they would thus furnish the brain and nervous 
system with an abundant supply of that animal energy so in- 
dispensable to mental power, and thus vastly enhance clear- 
ness of thought, retentiveness of memory, intellectual attain- 
ments, and moral excellence. Nor can any become great or 
good without MANUAL LABOR. Man must exercise if only to 
keep his brain in working order, it being to the brain what the 
sharpening of his tools is to the workman. Laborers plead 
that they have no time to work, yet they should take time. 


They were created to enjoy ; and since they can enjoy much 
raore by commingling study with labor, practical wisdom re- 
quires that they make mental culture as much a part of their 
business as work. Business and professional men, lawyers, 
ministers, bankers, brokers, merchants, clerks, editors, artists, 
etc.j again say they have no time for exercise, but let such re- 
member that this is the very way to make time, by augmenting 
mental efficiency, and especially prolonging their lives. The 
result is that our business, fashionable, and sedentary classes 
have a great preponderance of the mental temperament over 
the vital and muscular, and hence are delicate, sharp-favored, 
homely, excitable, dyspeptic, nervous, melancholy invalids, 
living but a short and that a miserable life, while the working 
classes, though endowed by nature with excellent heads, yet 
lack that cultivation requisite to the development of their 
natural talents and virtues. 

Were the sole object of my life to see how long I could live, 
or even how happily, I would divide each twenty-four hours 
into three parts, and devote eight hours to sleep, rest, and 
meals ; eight more to vigorous exercise, or rather, hard labor ; 
and the balance to the exercise of mind, uniting the last two 
whenever practicable. Or, even were my object to become 
intellectually great or learned ; or were health my object ; or 
"Were all these combined, I would pursue the same course. 
Burritt, the learned blacksmith, is often referred to as an in- 
tellectual prodigy. He certainly is the wonder of the learned 
world. Besides understanding more than fifty languages, he 
has accumulated a richer treasure of historical and miscella- 
neous information, than probably any man living, and yet, in 
his letter to ex-Governor Everett, he states that his poverty 
compelled him to labor at the anvil eight hours daily. This 
is the one main secret of his greatness. " Go thou and do 
likewise," and train up your children, too, in harmony with 
this principle. 


Since youth requires a great expenditure of vital energy 
during adolescence, the vitality should predominate oyer the 


mentality. The order of nature requires that the great pro- 
portion of their vital energies should be expended in laying a 
deep and broad foundation for a corresponding superstructure 
of mental greatness, and every item of vitality required oy the 
body but expended on the mind only weakens both. The 
great fault of modern education is robbing the body to de- 
Velope the mind — trying to make learned babies and nursery 
prodigies at the expense of health. In doing this, parents of- 
ten make them simpletons for life, or else youthful corpses. 
As when the miser had learned his horse to live without eat- 
ing, it died ; so just as these children become extra smart, they 
die. Where are those poetic geniuses the Misses Davidson? 
In their graves at fifteen ! What folly parental vanity often 
perpetrates ! Better no education than such robbing of the 
body, ruin of the health, and destruction of life. Especially 
better to ripen too late than too early. Throughout nature, 
*' late ripe, late rotten." As early fruits soon decay, but late 
ones keep all winter, and as the poplar tree, and all vegeta- 
bles which grow fast, die soon, while the slow-growing oak 
and pine last long, and do much more service, so it is much 
better that children ripen late than early. So certain and 
uniform is this law, that the length of life of all animals can 
be calculated from the age at which they come to maturity. 
This law governs all that grows, man as a race, and every 
individual included. Accordingly, long-lived persons mature 
late, and our most talented men were backward boys. Adam 
Clarke was a very blockhead at school — an eyesore to his 
teacher, and a butt among his mates. And what was young 
Patrick Henry? The dullest of the dull. Most distinguished 
men of all ages were backward boys ; and in general, they 
entered on their career of greatness late in life. Let my 
children be children till out of their teens, and enter too late 
upon the business of life rather than too early. This eager- 
ness of our youth to begin life early occasions immense mis- 
cry. I would not leave the minds of my children an unculti- 
vated waste, yet I would expend only their surtlus vitality in 
either study or labor, nor sacrifice one iota of health to men- 
tal acquirements. The brains of children are soft, and their 


nerves less sensitive to burns, bruises, colds, and hurts, than 
those of adults. The nervous system is the last to mature, 
and last to yield to the approaches of age and of a natural death. 
Hence little pains should be taken to cultivate the intellect 
until nature has fully matured the brain and nervous system. 
Some species of animals, the dog included, are bom blind. 
What consummate folly to cut open their eyes, or put on 
glasses, or attempt to make them see by artificial means be- 
fore their natural time ! Let nature have her perfect work. 
Follow where she leads ; but never precede her. Let your 
first labor be to give them strong constitutions, and to lay in 
as large a supply of physical energy as possible. You may 
cultivate their intellects, but not so much as to withdraw their 
energies from growth. Let intellectual attainments be what 
nature has made them, secondary, in point of time. Would 
you not lose by hurrying your fruit-trees into bloom so early 
that the frosts of spring would certainly nip the bud ? 


If this great law of health — proportion of function — requires 
confirmation, it is to be found in the number and aggravation 
of those diseases engendered by an excess of carbon in the 
system. Why do northerners sicken at the South ? Because 
they continue to eat as freely as before, yet, since a given 
quantity of oxygen can combine with no more than its fixed 
equivalent of carbon, and since a warmer and therefore more 
rarefied atmosphere prevents their inhaling as much oxygen 
as at the North, they of course evacuate less carbon from the 
system by respiration than they take into it by eating and drink- 
ing. A surfeit of carbon is the necessary consequence, and 
this induces those malignant fevers which prevail in tropical 
climates. Southern emigrants who eat less and bathe much 
escape, because they occasion no such glut of carbon, and all 
who " move South," besides eating less, should eat food less 
highly carbonized, for the same reasons that we should eat less, 
and less highly carbonized food, in the summer than winter. 

The summer complaints of children have the same cause- 
excess of carbon. This is rendered evident by the fact that 


they prevail most in hot weather, and diminish as the cool sea- 
son approaches, because they then inhale more oxygen, and 
thus consume more carbon, thus partially restoring the pro- 
portion between the two. And if parents would administer 
less food, and that less carbonated, to children during the 
summer months, many who now sicken and die would escape. 
Hence give such little if any butter, fat, or sweets, because 
they all contain a great proportion of already superabundant 

Dyspepsia consists mainly in this same carbonic surplus — 
also established by the improvement generally consequent on 
the approach of cold weather. And all whose health is better 
in the fall and winter than spring and summer, may rely upon 
it that their maladies are occasioned by surplus carbon, that 
is, over-eating. 

And what is the consumptive process but one of an ex- 
cess of carbon over oxygen ? As the lungs waste away, they 
afford a less surface for oxygenating the blood. Of course less 
carbon is burnt up, the body is cold, and the system decays. 
Let such be doubly particular to reduce their eating and en- 
hance their breathing. Of what use is any more carbon than 
can be burnt up by respiration ? And as their stomachs are 
more vigorous than the lungs, of course they should eat less 
than they crave. 

These views are still farther sustained by the chymical 
analysis of the putrid matter of biles, fever-sores, ulcers, dis- 
eased lungs, and the like — it containing about fifty-four per 
cent, of carbon. Indeed, most obstructions, irritations, in- 
flammations, and the like, will doubtless be found to consist 
mainly in its surplus. These abscesses may therefore fairly 
be considered as the outlets of that surplus carbon which oc- 
casioned them. Hence their beneficial influence. Hence, 
also, butter, fat, sweets, and other highly carbonated sub- 
stances, provoke biles and cutaneous eruptions. So do high 
living and over-eating. 

These proofs of our doctrine of proportion might be ex- 
tended inimitably, but is it not too obvious to require it ? 
Does it not unfold a fundamental condition of health and 


cause of disease ? Is any other equally essential to mental 
or physical capability ? And if physicians understood this 
law, and labored to restore that lost balance which occasioned 
the disease, instead of dosing down powerful drugs, they 
would save a large proportion of those patients whom they lose. 
And if mankind in general would preserve or restore this pro- 
portion, if the sedentary and fashionable would study and fret 
less, but take more exercise, laborers rest and read more, 
those who have over-eaten would fast, and those who sit much 
in-doors would exercise much in the open air, the great ma- 
jority of chronic invalids would soon be gladdened by return- 
ing health, that most dreadful penalty of violated law — death 
— be postponed a score or two of years, every faculty of body 
and mind be incalculably enhanced, and their pains sup- 
planted by pleasures. Proportion between the eating and 
breathing, and between these two and muscular action, and 
b^tvreen all three and the exercise of mind and feeling, will 
ensure the observers of this law a high order of intellectual 
capability, moral excellence, and a long and happy life. 
And the application of this law to the mental faculties will 
constitute much of the frame work of the next volume. Next 
in order, strictly speaking, comes the means of securing 
THIS BALANCE : yet we wish first to present another aspect of 
this law itself, namely, 


Exhaustion, temporary and permanent, physical and men- 
tal, consists in a deficient supply of vitality as compared with 
its expenditure, and hence in the violation of this law of bal- 
ance, and occasions an almost incalculable amount of disease. 
Vitality resists disease in proportion to its abundance. As an 
active skin nullifies exposures to colds which overcome a fee- 
ble one, so strong constitutions withstand exposures which 
would break down weak ones. Take an example. While 
full of vitality and animal vigor, say in the morning, wet feet, 
malaria, noxious gases, contagion of various kinds, extreme 
cold, or exposures, are resisted with impunity, whereas when 
fatigued, deprived of sleep, or hungry, comparatively trifling 


exposures overcome the system and sickness ensues. Keep on 
a full head of vitality and it will both resist and also eject dis. 
ease. This is confirmed by the fact that we rarely sicken 
suddenly, but are ailing more or less for days or weeks before- 
hand, because debility, by cutting off the supply of vitality, 
leaves the system too feeble to resist renewed exposures. 
Even in apoplectic, and other sudden attacks, disease has been 
undermining the system perhaps for years. Most forms of 
disease, taken in season, can be thrown off at once, and pro- 
tracted illness averted. Extreme and protracted exhaustion 
generally precedes and induces consumption, many of its 
victims having first worn themselves completely out just before 
being taken down; whereas but for such exhaustion they 
would have escaped. Many a one has been prostrated by 
disease after having watched day and night around the sick 
bed, not, as generally supposed, because the disease was con- 
tagious, but because their exhaustion left the gates of life open 
to the ingress of the enemy. That excessive labor invites 
disease is a matter of general experience and observation. 
How many, after seasons of unusually protracted and arduous 
labor, first became debilitated and then sick. American females 
in particular, contract many of their diseases in consequence of 
protracted exhaustion, occasioned by undue confinement with- 
in doors, late hours, restless children and consequent depriva- 
tion of sleep, perpetual kitchen drudgery, unintermitting toil, 
and kindred causes ; and many chronic invalids can be cured 
simply by rest and recreation, whose case medicines can never 
reach. They have expended animal energy faster than sup- 
plied it, become debilitated, are thus exposed to disease, and 
can be restored only by restoring the equilibrium of the system. 
To one application of this idea special attention is invited 
— to the absolute necessity of providing a re-supply of vi- 
tality. This exhaustion so fatal to health, so prolific of dis- 
ease, is not generally occasioned by too great an expenditure 
as much as by an undue supply of vitality. Invalids might 
expend much more than they do with impunity, provided they 
would promote its re-supply by obeying the laws of health. 
Like a poor farmer, they take all off but put nothing on, 


whereas if they kept up a full supply of vitality they could 
greatly increase all their labors, yet not overdo. 


This balance once lost, can it be restored ? It can. Every 
function can be promoted and retarded. Indeed, nature's uni- 
versal tendency is to secure this restoration. As over- taxed or- 
gans rob the others to obtain vitality with which to discharge 
their load ^^, so strong organs succor weak ones. Besides this, 
that same restorative principle which has provided remedial 
agents in general ^^^, has also provided for the removal of this 
cause of disease. By what means, then, can an end thus im- 
portant be secured ? 

One means is by diet ^^ ". Another is by exercise. By a 
law of things, the normal action of any organ augments its 
power. Of this all are experimental witnesses. The hands 
of sailors become large and powerful because used energeti- 
cally and vigorously in clinging to the rigging and handling 
ropes, and a similar increase is apparent in all labors. The 
arms of the blacksmith, the feet of expert dancers and pedes- 
trians, the chests of habitual rowers, the muscles of laborers, 
compared with those of the sedentary and fashionable classes, 
all manifest a similar increase, and by the same means. Let 
any man having large and powerful muscles confine himself 
to writing or books for years, and his muscles will decline in 
size and strength, but re-increase if he again returns to a labo- 
rious occupation. 

The reason of this increase by exercise is apparent. Ac- 
tion causes a proportionate flow of blood to any and all the 
parts exercised, and this blood is freighted with the materials 
for the supply wasted. And since this resupply is commen- 
surate with the exhaustion, of course the parts exercised most 
grow the fastest. 

But the increased power of function is far greater than 
that of size. Thus let a new hand go into the blacksmith's 
shop, and the muscles of his arms grow rapidly, yet improve 
in efficiency far more than in size, and thus of all other ex. 
ercised parts. 


To apply this law to the lungs. A man of only ordinary 
vocal strength becomes a chimney-sweep, or street-pedler in 
our cities, so that he is obliged to hallo perpetually, and he 
soon acquires a strength of lungs and power of voice which 
resound above the clatter of carriages, and all the din and roar 
of the most thronged streets. Take oyster pedlers as exam- 
ples. And this tremendous bellowing they put forth hour after 
hour, day after day, and month after month, year in and year 
out. Behold the astonishing increase of vocal power conse- 
quent on EXERCISE. 

The gastronomic powers of gluttons ^^, furnish another illus- 
tration of this law of increase by exercise. Men can divert 
nearly all the energies of their system to thel'- stomachs. Yet 
our subject is too apparent to require enlargement. Weak 
organs can be strengthened, and to an astonishing degree. 
The only remaining question then is — How can such action 
be promoted ? 


Whoever is benefited by exercise, feels better after taking 
it, sleeps more sweetly, experiences an increase of appetite, or 
additional clearness of mind or agreeableness of disposition, 
requires more, as indeed all whose business confines them 
much within doors, and also those who feel a craving for mo- 
tion. To determine whether we need it is just as easy as to 
determine whether we require food, and by a similar index — 
an APPETITE for it. 

To show HOW to exercise would be superfluous. All re- 
quired is to administer a few cautions. Sedentaries, convinced 
of their need of it, often take it in excess, or unseasonably, or 
too violently. That same appetite which demands it, closely 
watched, will admonish the instant this occurs, when the 
patient should desist at once. A kind of trembling, hurried, 
excited, and yet weakened state of the muscles, so that instead 
of playing easily and voluntarily, they must be forced, indi- 
cates excess, which always injures. Stop exercise the instant 
such trembling commences. 


It should be taken when the system is prepared to sustain it, 
and is often beneficial after severe mental application. Before 
meals, especially before breakfast, is generally a good season. 
Just before retiring is a good time, when it has not been taken 
during the day, and by those who resort to in-door exercise. 
" Better late than never." 

Its kind should also be such as to develop all the muscles. 
That same law of balance just illustrated requires that every 
muscle in the body should be exercised every day of our 

Yet some work too hard, so that their muscles rob their 
brains, and thus become stupid in mind, averse to study, 
drowsy over books, and blunted in their finer sensibilities. 
Such should work less — should perhaps restrain their craving 
for action, just as those who over- eat should restrain appetite. 

But having enforced the necessity of muscular action in 
general '^^ '^^ ^*\ and also the necessity of proportion of func- 
tion ^^^, and by consequence the double importance of exercise 
to those whose muscles have become enfeebled by inaction, 
we come next to 


The opinion has already been expressed, that colds and in- 
digestion were the great causes of the diseases of our cli- 
mate ^°^ ; and also that most diseases consist in disproportion 
of function '^^. Both colds and dyspepsia are embraced in this 
want of balance. Though dyspepsia itself rarely terminates 
life, yet it is the parent of many diseases that do. It fills the 
system with morbid matter, unfit to take part in the vital pro- 
cess, and therefore irritates and fevers both body and brain. 
IIow indigestion breeds corruption and disease has already 
been explained ^^ The amount is almost incredible. Take 
a single illustration. The breath of dyspeptics is always 
foetid, because of the corruption thrown off through the lungs. 
Suppose yourself compelled to inhale all the odor or obnoxious 
matter in the breath of many a dyspeptic, it would soon sicken, 
if not destroy you. Yet you would inspire no more than they 
expire How vast an amount of corruption and animal poison 


some breathe out every hour of their lives ! But no more 
than their disordered stomachs manufacture. Yet all is 
not expelled. All the evacuations put together cannot unload 
it as fast as it is engendered, and hence it gathers on the 
lungs and brain in the form of phlegm, oppresses the lungs, 
irritates them, and engenders consumptions, fevers, and all 
sorts of complaints. Dyspeptics expectorate most while suf- 
fering from indigestion, because the salivaiy glands are closely 
inter-related with the stomach, and hence the mucus conse- 
quent on indigestion. Hence all bad-tasting phlegm should 
always be spit out, never swallowed, yet sweet-tasted spittle 
should be swallowed ^^ 

But it is on the nervous system and brain that dyspepsia 
exerts its most deleterious influences. The corruption and 
rank poison it engenders cannot but lash up both nerves and 
brain to abnormal and therefore painful action. Dyspeptics 
always feel irresolute, gloomy, and wretched, in proportion as 
their disease is aggravated, however favorable for enjoyment 
all their external circumstances. I should disdain the fortune 
of an AsTOR if indigestion accompanied its reception. How- 
ever wealthy, or respected, or beloved, or otherwise capacitated 
for enjoyment, they are poor, miserable creatures — poor, be- 
cause they cannot enjoy, however much they may possess of 
the bounties of nature, and miserable, because this disease 
turns even their facilities for happiness into occasions of pain. 
They would go mourning even in paradise. Brother dyspep- 
tics, I pity you from my inmost soul. Twenty tedious years 
have I experienced its prostrating tortures, but am gradually 
exchanging its sour grapes for the sweet fruits of restored 
digestion. Listen while I tell you how to unloose its fetters 
and extricate yourself from its vassalage. 

Whether your complaints are caused by indigestion may 
be known by some of its signs. It generally emaciates. 
And those who are perpetually growing more and more thin- 
favored, and specially sinking in at the abdomen and cheeks, 
may know that this disease is approaching ; as may also all 
who feel a gnawing, sunken, fainting, " gone " sensation at 
the stomach, or are unable to postpone their meals without in- 


convenience, or who feel a ravenous appetite and still con- 
tinue to crave after they have eaten freely ; or who feel pros- 
trated, inefficient, listless, misanthropic, or unusually irritable 
and fretful ; or who belch up wind frequently — it being a 
gas formed on the stomach by the souring of their food ^° — or 
who feel misanthropic, hating, and hateful. Dyspeptics are 
perpetually cramming, yet virtually starving, because their 
stomachs do not extract from food its nutrition, and, paradox- 
ical as it may seem, the more they eat the more they starve. 

Besides being hollow-cheeked, and lank in the abdomen, 
they are generally costive. This is occasioned by the slug- 
gishness of the stomach and bowels ; and the removal of this 
single symptom or effect of this disease will generally obviate 
this disease itself. 


Its evils are quite as great as generally represented. It 
closes one important outlet of the waste matter of the system, 
which health requires to be kept open at some rate. Yet not 
by medicines ; for they excite only temporarily, and leave the 
bowels weaker than they found them, so that increased 
doses are required to re-open them. Never resort to any 
kind of medicine, not even rhubarb, for a cure, but rely 
wholly on diet and motion. Many kinds of food are highly ' 
aperient. Fruit always has this effect ; yet thus opened, the 
bowels do not relax into increased lethargy. Coarse, unbolted 
bread is still more so. Hence, many are obliged to eat it 
sparingly, because it is too opening. Its bran stimulates the 
coats of the alimentary canal, besides increasing the fsecial 
bulk. Dyspeptics should always eat freely of it in conjunc- 
tion with fruit, and may thus cure the most obdurate cases. 
Buttermilk is another powerful cathartic, and used with bran 
bread will be found efficacious. Rye and Indian bread is 
quite as opening, and all rye is excellent, and the more aperient 
the more bran is lefl in. A pudding made by stirring un- 
bolted rye flour into boiling water, eaten with molasses, 
sugar, milk, or fruit-sauce, will be found most excellent. So 
will Indian and oat-meal pudding, eaten with molasses or 


fruit-sauce. Rhubarb sauce, and pies, if their crusts are made 
just right, and also nuts, are still more opening. So is cider 
fresh from the press. So is lemonade. In fact, the dietetic 
kingdom is full of aperient agents endowed with quite as much 
power as cathartic medicines, and hence the former should 
always be resorted to, because they leave the bowels in a more 
healthy and active state, whereas every dose of medicine ulti- 
mately weakens and binds. Whenever cathartics are needed 
let them be taken in food, rarely in medicine. 

Intestinal motion, whether effected by kneading the 
bowels, or by bodily exercise, also obviates both indigestion 
and constipation. A few years ago an infallible cure for 
dyspepsia was proffered on two conditions — strict secrecy and 
a high fee. It consisted simply in kneading, and otherwise 
giving motion to the bowels. For dyspeptics, exercise, and 
especially those kinds which call the abdominal muscles into 
play, will be found a specific cure. Fomentations applied to 
the bowels are excellent. So are cloths wrung out of water 
as hot as can be borne, and laid on them, and changed every 
half hour. Water injections, cold and warm, are still better — - 
in fact, are infallible cures, if continued. Putting the thumbs 
across the hips, and extending the fingers forward to, and 
kneading the abdomen is also excellent, as are all forms of 
rubbing, kneading, and friction, and striking them with the 
hands or fists. Copious draughts of cold water on an empty 
stomach will help this complaint. Laying on cloths wet in 
vinegar, and rubbing them with an iron as hot as can be 
borne, will do great good. 

Regularity in the evacuations is scarcely less impor- 
tant than this whole subject of diet. Every individual, and 
particularly the costive, should see to it that the bowels move 
every day, and this can easily be secured by attending to this 
function at stated periods each day, as on rising, or after 
breakfast, or dinner, or supper, and the earlier the better. A 
little attention to the formation of regularity in this matter, 
will effectually obviate constipation, and do much towards 
restoring digestion. Mothers should form this habit in child- 
hood, and all should practice it till it becomes second nature* 


Neglecting to attend to this call of nature, and to a kindred 
evacuation, occasions more disease and suffering than can 
well be imagined — the former costiveness and all its attendant 
evils, and the latter gravel and its sufferings. 

Dyspepsia is generally accompanied by acidity of the 
stomach, caused by that souring of the food in it already 
explained. This acidity can and should be removed. One 
means is by taking those kinds of food and chymical agents 
which will neutralize it. Alkalies will sometimes do this, 
yet they are better taken in saleratus bread, which is far 
better for dyspeptics than yeast bread ^^ Oyster-shells, baked 
and powdered, are also highly recommended, and may be 
useful. That they often neutralize the acids of the stomach 
is evinced by the wind they bring up. Yet do they not leave 
a deleterious compound in its place ? Still they often do at 
least temporary good. Weak ley, made from clean wood 
ashes, has a kindred effect. 

Some acids decompose other acids, and hence some stomatic 
acidities may be cured by taking the right kinds of acids. 
Yet I incline to the opinion that the acids found in fruits are 
far preferable for this purpose. Hence, lemons often improve 
the tone of the stomach ; and when they do, should be eaten 
freely before meals, or in food. Hence, also, lemonade is 
often a highly beneficial drink for dyspeptics, and should be 
drank, not in gills, but by the pint, when it produces a com- 
fortable feeling in the stomach. And I fully believe that 
chymistry will yet discover a means of detecting the kind of 
acid in the stomach, and, of course, some kind of food or 
medicine which will effectually neutralize it — an application 
of animal chymistry of great practical importance, and which 
some of us will undoubtedly live to see made. There are 
doubtless effectual antidotes in nature, and especially in food, 
exactly adapted to remove any species of stomatic disorder by 
neutralizing or carrying off the noxious compound. In fact, 
I fully believe that science will yet discover particular kinds 
of food which will effectually counteract every and all dis- 
ordered states of the whole body. To illustrate. That rank 
poison, corrosive sublimate, if I mistake not, can be at once 


neutralized by eating soap freely, or swallowing any alkali in 
large quantities. The poisonous virus infused into the system 
by the bites of mad dogs, and poisonous snakes, can be effect- 
ually neutralized by taking certain chymical agents recently 
discovered, of which I think vinegar is one. Now I fully be- 
lieve that mankind will yet discover some such antidote for 
every sort of morbid matter, obstruction, and disease incident 
to the body. Excess of carbon has already been shown to be 
one prolific cause of disease ; and all diseases thus caused are 
easily obviated by taking little carbon into the system in the 
form of food, meanwhile introducing much oxygen in the 
form of breath to burn it out. Thus, suppose you have a bile 
or abscess, or fever sore, as the corrupt matter consists mainly 
of carbon, of course by eating little, and those kinds of food 
which abound in fibrine, tissue, etc., yet contain little carbon, 
you reduce the supply of carbon ; meanwhile, breathe copi- 
ously, so as to burn it up fast ^^, and you, of course, soon 
evacuate this surplus carbon, heal the abscess, and restore the 
healthy action of the system. Undoubtedly this principle 
might be applied effectually to the cure of consumption, as it has 
been to the gravel. And I fully believe this principle of neu- 
tralization will soon be applied so as immediately and effect- 
ually to cure all sorts of disease, and prolong life to twice and 
thrice its present period. I earnestly commend this point to 
the scientific researches of chymists, and to the practical ex- 
periment of all. 

Stomatic inflammation also accompanies indigestion, and 
causes those pains incident to dyspepsia. This can be easily 
reduced, and along with it those cravings of the appetite 
already shown to accompany dyspepsia ^^. You eagerly ask 
HOW ? This brings up 


Cold water is undoubtedly man's natural beverage ^"^ On 
this point we need not enlarge. Besides promoting health, its 
medicinal properties are also great. It is one of those power- 
ful neutralizers of the corrupt matter in the stomach, the virtues 
of which have just been shown '^*. Have dyspeptics not often 


noticed copious eructations of gas soon after having drank 
freely? The mineral substances of the water combined with 
and neutralized some of the obnoxious matter in the stomach, 
and hence the gas. Probably nothing equals water for reduc- 
ing inflammation. Dip a burn into cold water and keep it 
there half an hour, and its inflammation and consequent 
smarting will subside. Immersing a cut, or bruise, or sprain, 
or fracture, or rheumatic joint, or any other form of inflamma- 
tion into water, and both inflammation and pain will be dimin- 
ished. For the virtues of water as an antidote of inflamma- 
tion in all its forms, see the water cure. But this fact admitted, 
its application to the cure of stomatic irritation follows. No 
medicine, no diet, nothing equals its judicious application, ex- 
ternal and internal, to the stomach of dyspeptics. Its exter- 
nal application in the form of wet cloths laid on the stomach 
and covered with several thicknesses of flannel to keep in the 
heat — and for this, night is by far the best time — is most benefi- 
cial. Injections two or three times per day are even more so. 
But the DRINKING of cold water is the medicine for dyspeptics 
after all — not by stint, but by copious drafts. 

Yet the best time for drinking is especially important. This 
should not be at meals, because it reduces the temperature 
of the stomach below 98** Farenheit requisite for digestion, 
which it arrests till that temperature is again attained. In fact, 
dyspeptics should drink nothing with their meals, even though 
their mouths are dry while eating, because this vory dryness 
will provoke that salivary secretion so essential to prepare the 
food for digestion ^^, whereas drinking, by rinsing down the 
food, obviates this dryness and leaves these glands to slumber. 
I even recommend dyspeptics to eat dry food, as dry bread, 
crusts, Graham wafers, crackers, and the like, so as to in- 
crease the DEMAND for saliva to moisten the food, and thus call 
the salivary glands into action. To discontinue these drinks 
may be quite a trial at first, but after a few days will be no 

Nor should dyspeptics drink till some three or fou^ hours 
after their meals — or, rather, till within an hour or two of the 
next meal, when they should drink freely till within half an 


hour of meal-time, and then discontinue, so that the stomach 
may regain its temperature. 

Copious drinking, before breakfast, of water fresh from the 
well or spring, accompanied by as vigorous exercise as the 
patient can bear, will be found especially serviceable. Drink 
freely again an hour before dinner, and an hour before sup- 
per, if you take any, which dyspeptics should omit — or rather 
be contented to drink instead of eating — and again on retiring. 
If lemonade agrees with you, drink of that occasionally in 
place of water, but drink at these times and not at meals, and 
one month will greatly improve the tone of your stomach. 

Add to this all the exercise you can well endure, business 
relaxation, a light diet, thorough mastication, and slow eating, 
and you will, in one year — probably in a far less time — be 
well. Eat in the main those kinds of food which agree best 
with you, yet abstain from animal food, and live much on 
coarse unbolted flour bread and fruit. 

Especially must dyspeptics eat little. Without this, 
there is no salvation for them. Full feeding will effectually 
counteract all these and all other remedial prescriptions—will 
even re-induce dyspepsia after it is cured, and of course aggra- 
vate it and prevent its cure. Make up your minds to starve 
IT OUT, or else to suffer all its miseries, and soon end your 
days. Abstinence is the great panacea. All else only aids, 
but does not reach its root. 

Another cure more effectual than any other except fasting, 
already frequently alluded to, requires to be distinctly brought 
forward. Several principles already adduced show that dys- 
peptics over-eat ''", and are surfeited with carborn ^". Of 
course this surplus must be discharged, and such discharge 
will generally cure them. This can be effected by eating 
less and breathing more. Nothing equals breath as a cure- 
all. Fresh air in large and perpetual doses is by far the most 
effectual specific for dyspeptics and consumptives that exists. 
The reason has already been given. In short, let them follow 
the prescriptions of this work as to the selection, mastica- 
tion, quantity, and digestion of food, and touching circula- 
tion, respiration, prespiration, sleep, exercise, etc., in addition 


to the specific prescriptions of '" '^^ '^^ and they will soon be 


Hepatic difficulties are the twin sisters of dyspepsia, so that 
the prescriptions just directed for the latter will cure the for- 
mer. The two specific directions for curing it are, first, an 
abstennious, cooling diet, and abundance of fresh air. The 
blood is too thick and turgid, and hence lodges about the 
heart. The oxygen of breath thins it^®, so that it flows the 
more freely. All thus afflicted have noticed that just as they 
inspire air its beat is quickened and strengthened, but slack- 
ens as they expire — proof conclusive that more copious breath- 
ing will obviate their difficulty. Such will also generally 
find their veins too blue, owing to a surplus of carbonic 
acid ^^ Respiration alone can remove this from the system, 
and thus still farther thin the blood. Iron filings may aid ^^ 

Such will also always be found to have cold hands and 
feet, to be chilly, and to have frequent head-aches — all be- 
cause their heart is too feeble to propel the blood through- 
out the system. Whatever, therefore, promotes circulation, 
will relieve the heart by leaving less blood collected in its 
veins, and remove the headache by withdrawing that surplus 
blood which occasions the congestion and consequent pain. 
This, friction and the bath will do much to effect''' ''' ''\ To 
such the foot-bath will be especially serviceable ^^\ Magnet- 
ism can also be successfully applied to the relief of the hearty 
and head. As, however, the section on circulation has already 
discussed this whole matter, repetition here is unnecessary. 


As consumption is only an obdurate cold '°'^, the cure for 
which has already been prescribed '^^ "° '^', the principles in- 
volved in its treatment are already before the reader. Yet 
we have introduced this point here to add a few important 
suggestions. Disorder of the stomach induces symptoms 
often supposed to indicate consumption. Thus a foul stomach 
loads the system with disease, which settles on the weakest 



organ, and this may be the lungs. Hence their oppression is 
often only sympathetic. 

They also evacuate much noxious matter from the system. 
Thus alcohol, being inimical to life, is taken up and ejected 
by the lungs, and hence we smell it in the breath of those 
who drink. By this same law they eject other noxious mat- 
ters. When, therefore, the stomach is foul, so that food 
decays in it, and thus engenders a vast amount of corrup- 
tion ^^, and when the pores of the skin are partially closed, so 
as to prevent its free escape through this channel, it returns 
with the blood to the lungs, and there gathers on them in the 
form of mucous or phlegm, irritates, occasions cough, sore- 
ness, and all the signs of consumption. Yet dyspepsia is 
the primary disease, though it often ends in consumption. 
Such may have consumptive symptoms many years, yet 
recover, and should follow the directions just prescribed for 
dyspeptics *^^ ^^^ 

This principle applies equally to diseases of the head, 
nerves, muscles, and other parts of the body, as occasioning 
consumptive symptoms, and ultimately the disease itself — the 
cure consisting in that of the primary disease. 

But even when consumption proper has fastened upon the 
lungs, and formed abscesses, it is by no means incurable — 
no more so than disease of any of the other organs. The 
great cause of failure is erroneous modes of treatment, not 
the obstinacy of the disease. Tubercles form in other parts 
of the system as often as in the lungs — indeed, are the gen- 
eral product or issue of all chronic diseases. They form in 
the liver, muscles, glands, stomach, heart, and even brain, and 
can be cured elsewhere. Then why not in the lungs ? 
They are the exudations of corrupt matter, generated in the 
lungs or elsewhere, and can be cured by arresting the pro- 
gress of this corruption, and giving nature a chance to repair 
the breach. This is rarely attempted. Stop the generation 
of additional corruption and the system will soon relieve 
itself of what exists. Frequent and copious sweating, by re- 
opening the pores and carrying off this corrupt matter, will be 
found the most efficacious point of attack ^". Consumptive 


night sweats attempt this, yet the corruption accumulates 
faster than it is unloaded, and hence the disease progresses. 

One of the principal generators of this corrupt matter is 
surplus carbon ^^^ As the patient's lungs are small, and 
their lining membrane partially clotted by phlegm, so as to 
obstruct the ingress of oxygen and exit of carbonic acid, of 
course little carbon is burnt in the system, and its surplus is 
the consequence. Such should eat very little — almost starve 
— because they can burn up but little carbon. Then why 
force it upon the system only to aggravate the malady ? But 
as all the principles here involved have been explained, 
additional enlargement is unnecessary. 


But its PREVENTION is far more important than its cure, be- 
cause more easy and effectual. It can always be kept at 
bay, however predisposed the patient. First, then, some of 
its signs, that those pre-disposed may be on their guard. 
They will generally be tall, slim, long-fingered and limbed, 
spindling, small and narrow-chested, inclined to sit and walk 
bent forward, and their shoulders thrown forwards and in- 
wards, because their small lungs and stomachs cause a pectoral 
caving in, sunken between where the arms join the body, and 
to have a long neck, sunken cheeks, long faces, sharp fea- 
tures, a pallid countenance, light complexion, a thin, soft, and 
delicate skin, light and fine hair, rather a hollow, exhausted, 
ghastly aspect, long and rounding finger nails, cold hands 
and feet, and general chilliness, wakefulness at night, great 
excitability, very active minds, clear thoughts, excellent 
natural abilities, intense feelings, rapidity of motion, and a 
hurried manner, liability to be fatigued, in short, a decided 
predominance of the mental temperament over the vital — of 
head over body. 

The accompanying engraving of Granville Mellen, the poet, 
who died of this disease, gives a good general idea of the form 
of the face and person of consumptives. 

Yet I have seen those of full, fleshy habits predisposed to 
quick consumption, though equally so to all other local infiam- 




No. 25. Granville Mellen. 

mations and diseases, because their systems were exceedingly 

The small lungs and hearts of those predisposed to this dis- 
ease render their circulation imperfect. To promote this, 
should then be the first end sought by them. Whatever, there- 
fore, tends to retard the flow of blood, especially at the surface, 
such as sedentary pursuits, confinement within doors, and par- 
ticularly in heated rooms, habitual sewing, a cramped and 
forward posture, severe mental application, impure skin, sud- 
den atmospheric changes, colds, and the like, should be sedu- 
lously avoided, whereas a light diet, fresh air, out-of-door pur- 
suits, abundant sleep, vigorous exercise, warm climate, and 
free circulation tend to prevent it. Keep the skin clean and 
active, directions for which have already been given, and you 
are safe ^'° ^". 

Tight lacing is most pernicious to those thus predisposed, 
because it cramps the lungs, prevents their inflation, inflames 
them, shuts out oxygen, the deficiency of which is the great 


cause of this disease, curtails the action of the whole vital ap- 
paratus, and consequent supply of vitality, occasions adhesions, 
and in many other ways induces this disease. No language 
can tell the number of premature deaths of both mothers and 
iheir offspring occasioned by this accursed practice. To girt 
ap the vital organs is to commit virtual suicide. 

Hot drinks, especially tea and coffee, are also injurious, be- 
cause they increase the liability to take colds, and fever the 
nervous system, already far too excitable. Drink warm 
drinks only when you wish to induce perspiration. 

Exercise in the open air is also especially beneficial. Yet 
be very careful not to overdo — the great fault of consump- 
tives, because their nerves are too active for their strength. 
Alternate rest and exercise with abundance of fresh Am 
are your best remedial agents. Compared with them medi- 
cines are powerless. Doctor little, but invigorate YOim 


Added to general friction, let the chest be rubbed often, 
with the hand of a healthy and robust friend. Especially let 
mothers and nurses rub narrow-chested children much. 

The full and frequent inflation of the lungs is especially 
advantageous. In this alone consist the virtues of Rammage's 
tube. Yet such inflation can be effected better without than 
with any kind of tube. Sit or stand straight, throw the arms 
back, and chest forward, and then draw in slowly as full a 
breath as possible, and hold it for some time, perhaps mean- 
while gently striking the chest, so as to force the air down 
into the extremities of all the air-cells of the lungs, as well as 
enlarge the lungs, and keep up this practice habitually, and 
consumption will pass you by. Nor will many other prac- 
tices contribute more to general iiealth. An erect posture is 
especially important, and warping forward and inward — which 
consumptives are apt to do — very detrimental, because it 
cramps and impairs the vital apparatus, especially the lungs. 
Reading aloud, speaking, singing, vocal training, and gym- 
nastics — all right exercise of the lungs — will strengthen them, 
and thus keep this disease at bay ; yet care should be taken 
not to exercise them to exhaustion. Cuvier cured a consump- 


tive predisposition by lecturing, and so has the author. When 
he first began to lecture and examine, his lungs were feeble 
and irritable, having twice laid him up for months, but they 
Began to improve at once, and can now endure almost inces- 
sant talking during the day, and two or three hours of public 
speaking every evening in the year — ^they being the last to 

Sea voyages are much recommended, and also southern 
climates. Both, by promoting surface circulation and perspi- 
ration, are eminently beneficial. Yet if the same ends can 
be obtained at home the effect will be the same, and all the 
evils incident to voyages, absence from home, exposures, etc., 
be avoided. Southern climates are even less favorable to 
consumptives than a northern, because of the rarefied state of 
the atmosphere, and consequent deficiency of oxygen — one of 
the main elements required by consumptives. Indeed, I see 
not why inhaling oxygen gas, perhaps somewhat diluted, 
would not prove eminently serviceable. And whatever will 
cure this disease will prevent it, and the reverse. We con- 
clude by giving directions for the regimen of 


Quinsy, sore throat, croup, inflammation on the lungs, and 
liability to colds, all spring from a consumptive predisposition, 
and can be cured by whatever prevents it. Besides the ap- 
plying to such children preventives already prescribed for 
consumptive adults, let them not be sent to school early, but 
allowed to run wild, at least unconfined within doors till into 
their teens. Sitting in school is especialty pernicious, partly 
because of the vitiated air of school-rooms®^, and because 
their small lungs make them naturally bend forward, and also 
warp inwardly so as to retard all the vital functions. Folding 
the arms upon the chest is especially detrimental, because it 
impedes respiration. Fold them behind, if at all, so as to 
throw out the lungs. As the heads of all such children are 
too much for their bodies ^^^ '^^, neglect their mental culture, 
but make every effort to develop and fortify their physiology. 
They should do little else than exercise, eat, sleep, and 


GROW TILL TWENTY, and even then not hurry to marry, or en- 
gage in business till fully matured, though such are liable to 
do both while too young. They require all their energies for 
growth, and to divert them from the physiology to the men- 
tality is to increase that very cerebral ascendancy in which 
their consumptive tendency consists. They border on pre- 
cocity '^^, and require to be kept from study instead of sent tc 
school. If boys, furnish them with tools instead of books, and 
encourage them in all kinds of athletic exercises, such a9 
making and flying kites, sliding down hill, skating, swimming 
— yet never allow them to remain long in the water at a time 
— riding, working, wrestling, climbing, racing, shooting with 
bow and arrow — a most -excellent means of developing the 
chest — and above all talking loud and halloing much, so as 
to expand their lungs. The more noisy the better for their 
health, and the more averse to study the less liable to con- 
sumption. But let them live mainly on bread, milk, and 
fruit, and retire and rise early. Meat will injure them, be- 
cause it still farther stimulates them '^^ — the reverse of what 
they require — whereas milk soothes and quiets them. Let no 
fears be entertained that they will be dull scholars or ignorant 
men. Their brains are too active already, so that without 
schooling they will eclipse others with. Nor put them early 
into law offices or stores, but let them grow first. Espe- 
cially, if they must go to college, do not let them begin to fit 
till at least twenty. Rather let them work on the farm till 
fully matured. Nor ever put girls thus predisposed to any 
sedentary, confining, or sewing occupation, or to work in fac- 
tories. Rather let them work in kitchens — anything that will 
improve health and prolong life. Perhaps few things invite 
consumption more than sitting and sewing steadily in warm 

Especially important is it that such bathe. A consumptive 
patient was cured by being taken winter mornings to Amboy 
bay, and immersed in a hole cut through the ice. The colder 
the weather the more important the cold-bath to such children, 
followed with brisk friction. Follow these directions and they 
will escape consumption and live to a good old age. 



The mental signs of nervous disease or state of feeling, has 
already been pointed out. It remains to give a few physical 
indices, so that those thus afflicted may know what ails them. 
Tenderness, amounting perhaps to soreness, on the top of the 
head just behind Veneration betokens this disease. The rea- 
son is this. As the heart, lungs, stomach, muscles, and all 
the internal organs have each their respective cerebral organs 
in the cerebellum, so the nervous system has its center at that 
seat of the soul already pointed out ^^^, so that the painful state 
of the nerves causes pain at this their center, and of course a 
tenderness at the top of the head over this seat. This shows 
why nervous derangement disorders all the feelings and ren- 
ders all the mental operations painful ^^^. Hence nervous 
people can never enjoy life till they restore their nerves. 

Besides this tenderness, nervous patients are easily agitated, 
flustered, and thrown into a confused state of mind by trifles, 
are easily elated and depressed, quick in all their movements, 
full of excitement, liable to wakefulness, and full of bad feel- 
ings throughout mind and body. 

But to their cure. This disease is more frequently sympa- 
thetic than primary. Dyspepsia is always accompanied by 
nervousness. So are heart affections, scrofula, gout, fevers, 
colds, and nearly or quite all forms of disease. In fact, as 
the nerves are ramified throughout every organ and portion of 
the body, and reciprocally inter-related with every part, of 
course they sympathize perfectly with the healthy and dis- 
eased, active and sluggish state of the body as a whole, and of 
all its parts. Hence, whether nervous disorders are primary 
or sympathetic, the effectual means of curing them is to restore 
the tone and vigor of the system as a whole, by obeying 
those laws of dietetics, circulation, respiration, sleep, bathing, 
friction, exercise, and the like, already pointed out. True, 
health of nerves more effectually promotes general health than 
perhaps all other instrumentalities. Indeed, the perfect reci- 
procity existing between them and the rest of the system ren- 
ders it difficult to say whether remedial agents should be ap- 


plied primarily to them when disordered or to the system as a 
whole. But this much is certain, that the promotion of general 
health is the great means of restoring disordered nerves. Let 
nervous patients then strictly fulfil all the conditions of health, 
if they would effect a cure. To a few items, however, special 
attention should be directed. 

1. The importance of bathing, friction, and the healthy ac- 
tion of the skin is to such doubly enhanced, directions for 
which need not be repeated. The hand-bath, properly applied, 
will be found an almost sovereign panacea for these com- 

2. Those nervous subjects who are also dyspeptic need not 
expect to restore their nerves till they restore their stomachs. 
The corruption engendered by impaired digestion '^ is so 
great as to keep even healthy nerves in a perpetual fever. 
This irritating cause must be removed before health can 
be restored ; directions for which will be found under dys- 
pepsia, ^'' ''' '''. 

3. Nervous people are particularly troubled with restless- 
ness. Though perpetually worn out for want of rest, they can 
compose themselves to sleep only with difficulty, sleep lightly, 
are i^estless, disturbed by dreams, easily wakened, and find 
great difficulty in again getting to sleep. Hence such should 
sleep ALL THEY CAN. No curc for nervousness at all equals 
sleep ; nor are eight and even nine hours per diem too much 
for such. They sleep slowly v/hen asleep, yet exhaust them 
selves rapidly while awake, and hence should devote the 
more time to this all-important function. Let such observe 
with especial assiduity the directions for promoting sleep al- 
ready prescribed ^'*^ ^^' '^^ '^^ ^^°. To such, light suppers and as 
much exercise as can be well borne will be found especially 
important. Yet such hate to move till obliged to, and then 
are perpetually liable to overdo — not to do too much abso- 
lutely, but to do too FAST, so as to induce that trembling al- 
ready pointed out as a sign of overdoing. If they would only 
exercise moderately, they might do a great deal more, but 
their nervousness renders them always in a great hurry, and 
hence they take hold of exercise too rankly. Such should 


work moderately till just comfortably tired, then rest awhile 
perhaps lay down, and if possible, take a nap, then return to 
work, and thus often alternate between action and rest. Day 
naps to the nervous will be found especially serviceable. 

4. To the influence of grief, and all kinds of sadness, mel- 
ancholy, and despondency, special attention is invited. See 
how many tolerably healthy mothers have become nervous 
immediately on the death of a dearly beloved friend or child, 
have declined rapidly, and soon after followed their lost one 
to a premature grave. Those at all predisposed to nervous dis- 
order, who may lose friends, must banish grief, not indulge it. 
Must their death hasten yours ? If your grief could benefit 
their souls, indulge it ; but since it injures you in the most 
effectual manner possible, without doing any good, practical 
wisdom dictates its banishment. Instead, cultivate cheerful- 
ness and even mirth. Nothing will equally soothe irritated 
nerves, or tend to restore their tone and happy function. 

5. Severe mental application is especially deleterious to 
nervous invalids. Their disorder consists mainly in predomi- 
nant cerebral and nervous action '^^, and their cure in restor- 
ing the requisite balance by reducing it. Those, then, whose 
occupation requires much mental application, must give up 
their business or their happiness, if not lives. The former 
may be like plucking a right eye, but the latter is worse. 
Why prosecute business at the sacrifice of life ? Do you not 
pursue your avocation simply as a means of enjoyment? 
Then why not give it up when it conflicts with this only end 
of life ?^ Besides, by suspending it till restored, how much 
more you will be enabled to do in the long run. So that, 
merely for the sake of accomplishing the very business you 
would do, postpone it temporarily. 

What folly to sacrifice a lifetime of business to a few 
months, or even years ! Why kill the goose that lays the 
golden eg^g'^ Cure your nerves first, and do your business 
afterwards ^. 

A light, simple diet is quite as indispensable to the nerv- 
ous as the dyspeptic. Few things oppress the nerves more than 
over-eating, or relieve them more than abstemiousness. 


6. But a cooling diet is even more important. All condi- 
ments, all stimulants, act mainly upon the nerves, and re-excite, 
and still farther disease them. Hence all alcoholic drinks, wines, 
beers, cider, ale, all kinds of fermented liquors are fire to them, 
and should be wholly avoided. Tobacco is another powerful 
nervous irritant — is fatal to nervous quiet. In common with 
opium, it exhilarates temporarily only ultimately to fever and 
disorder. No higher proof of this is required than the feel- 
ings consequent on its abstinence. And the more wretched 
you feel when deprived of your pipe, quid, or segar, the more 
it has already impaired your nerves, and will increase its 
ravages. Of which, however, more fully in a proposed work 
on this subject. 

7. Tea and coffee have a similar effect. The stronger teas 
are rank poison to the nerves, and black teas are poisonous, 
though less so. Coffee is still worse. Its strong narcotic 
properties powerfully enhance nervous irritability, and will 
create, much more aggravate nervous disorder. Susceptible 
as my nerves are, nothing would tempt me to fever them by 
tea, coffee, tobacco, or alcohol, and all who do are consum- 
mately foolish, and even wicked, and sinning against their 
own peace. Yet we will not follow up this subject here, but 
refer the reader to a forthcoming work by the author on their 
use. Meanwhile, all whose nerves are in the least affected, 
are abjured to refrain from them wholly and at once. This 
requisition is absolute, imperious, inexorable. 

8. Powdered lady-slipper root, called valerian, or "nerve 
powder," sold by Thompsonian practitioners, is an excellent 
nervous sedative, and should be taken on retiring — about a 
tea-spoonful steeped in water and sweetened. It promotes 
sleep, relieves the head, and exerts a healing, soothing influ- 
ence on the nervous system. I have often prescribed and 
taken it, always with benefit. The root of itself is probably 
quite as good as after mixed with cayenne as in the powder 
referred to, and doubtless a decoction of it put in the water 
used in bathing, and in enemas, would be excellent. An 
ointment might doubtless be made of it, combined perhaps 
with some oleaginous compounds, also quieting to the nerves, 



of great practical value ; that is, its external application 
would probably prove still more serviceable than its internal. 
There are doubtless other valuable medicines and prescrip- 
tions, but these, well followed, in connection with a rigid 
adherence to the conditions of health, will restore the most 
aggravated cases of this disease, and make new men and 
women of many miserable thousands in our land now filled 
with nervous complaints. 


Of all the diseases incident to human nature, those which 
affect the mind are the most grievous, crushing, and absolutely 
insupportable. To have limb after limb cut from the writhing 
body, most excruciating though it be, bears no comparison to 
that horror of horrors experienced " when mind's diseased." 
How often have those thus afflicted been known to hold their 
hands in the fire, cut and bite their flesh, or to submit to 
amputation, and then remark that these things were diversions 
compared with the indescribable mental anguish they endure ! 
Well may the heart of every philanthropist beat with its fullest 
and strongest pulsations of sympathy, in view of the anguish 
experienced by the raging, bewildered maniac ; and well may 
government attempt the amelioration of those thus afflicted, by 
erecting asylums for their comfort and cure. What practice 
is as barbarous, as absolutely horrible, as that of confining the 
maniac, perhaps in a dungeon, in chains, or the strait jacket, 
treating him as if he were criminal, and perhaps scourging 
him at that ! He is sick, not criminal. To punish one who 
is dying of fever, or consumption, is truly horrible ; but to 
chastise a maniac is as much more so as his disease is more 
painful than all others. Ordinary sickness can be endured ; 
but let reason be dethroned, let self-possession be swayed from 
its moorings, let imaginary demons torment, and all the pas- 
sions be thrown into tumultuous uproar, the whole man no 
longer himself, and of all objects of commiseration, this is the 
most deserving. 

But to PREVENT disease is far better than to cure it : the 
following prescriptions, faithfully adhered to, while they will 


greatly mitigate this disease, after it is once seated, will, in 
most cases, where it is hereditary, if not in all, prevent its 
developing itself in actual insanity. 

Both to prevent and also to cure this disease, it is first 
necessary that we understand its cause, so as to counteract or 
obviate it. The cause of insanity, or rather inanity itself, 
consists in the excessive excitability and over-action of the 
BRAIN AND NERVOUS SYSTEM ^'^ Its prevention, therefore, can 
be effected only by reducing this over-action. And the re- 
mark is too obvious to require more than its mere presentation, 
that precisely the same remedial agents should be employed to 
reduce this morbid inflammation of the brain which are now 
employed to reduce other cases of inflammation, and the same 
means by which tendencies to other forms of inflammation 
may be prevented, will prevent the inflammation of the brain, 
and its consequent derangement of mind. Let it never be 
forgotten that insanity is a purely physical disease — as much 
so as consumption or cancerous affections, or any other bodily 
indisposition ; and both preventives and cures, to be efTectual, 
must be calculated to prevent or reduce this inflammation. 

In order to come the more directly at both the cause and 
the prevention, as well as the cure of this disease, special at- 
tention is invited to one condition which always accompanies 
derangement, and which is a product of that very cerebral 
condition which causes madness, and that is, superior natural 
abilities, accompanied with feelings the most intense and sus- 
ceptible. And these are caused by that same exalted action 
of the brain by which derangement is caused. Consequently, 
families and individuals predisposed to derangement, are 
always eminently talented, and possessed of the best of feel- 
ings. It is the very flower of community who are thus 
affected. In fact, this affliction is only the very excess of 
talent and sensibility. Do superior talents depend upon the 
powerful action of the brain? So does insanity, only the 
cerebral action is still greater. As but a narrow line sepa- 
rates the sublime and the ridiculous, so bui a step divides the 
highest order of talents from madness. Nor can a simpleton 
be crazy. It requires a prodigiously smart man to become 


deranged ; so that whoever is subject to insanity is " nobody's 

Hence, then, to prevent hereditary tendencies to insanity 
from developing themselves, it is necessary only to prevent 
this constitutional excitability of the brain from progressing 
beyond the point of healthy action. And to do this, it is only 
requisite to divert the action from the brain to some other part, 
to remove exciting causes of cerebral action, and to keep the 
brain as quiescent as possible. 

To illustrate. Your child is hereditarily predisposed to in- 
sanity. You will see this predisposition in his ecstasy of feel- 
ing when pleased, and in the overwhelming depth of his an- 
guish when crossed, in the power and intensity of his desires, 
in his haste and eagerness about everything, and in his being 
precociously smart and acute. And this is the error. Pa^ 
rents generally try to increase this action, by plying them with 
study, keeping them confined at school, and seeing how very 
smart they can make them. But the preventive of this ten- 
dency consists in pursuing directly the opposite course. This 
highly wrought cerebral action requires to be diminished, not 
enhanced. Study is directly calculated to increase it ; so is 
confinement ; but physical exercise is calculated to divert it 
from the brain to the muscles. Hence, no child or youth, 
either of whose parents or relatives are subject to derange- 
ment, should be sent to school. Nor should they, for the same 
reason, be vexed or plagued, or excited any way, but they 
should be allowed to run and play while children, to recreate 
and amuse themselves, and be happy during the period of 
youth, and should not enter upon the cares and business of 
life till fully matured, and then should check that boiling en- 
ergy which courses through their veins. 

Of all occupations, farming is the most suitable for them, 
as the labor it requii'es diverts the energies from the brain, and 
works ofi" that excitement, the excess of which constitutes this 
malady. With nothing to do, this energy accumulates, and 
gathers upon the most susceptible part, the brain, and ends in 
derangement ; but open the valves of labor for its escape, and 
health and sanity are preserved. 


Above all, let them sleep much. Put them in bed early, 
and keep them from being excited evenings. Young people 
thus predisposed, should never attend balls or parties, or any- 
exciting scenes, in the evening, nor read novels ; but they 
should keep cool and quiet. Most certainly they should never 
play cards, or any other exciting games of chance, nor take 
alcoholic stimulants of any kind or degree, not even wine, or 
cider, or beer, and scrupulously avoid even tea and coffee, be- 
cause all these tend to augment and develop that excessive 
cerebral action from which, mainly, they are in danger. 
They should take laxatives, not tonics — what will diminish 
their excitability, not increase it. Alcoholic drinks often in- 
duce derangement, even where there is no hereditary predispo- 
sition to it: much more, then, will they develop a latent 
susceptibility already existing. 

As those thus predisposed cannot be too temperate, so they 
are in no danger of being too abstemious. Indeed, stimulating 
meats and drinks are doubtless most efficient agents in deve- 
loping latent insanity. The simplest diet is the best. Milk, 
by being productive of dullness, is decidedly beneficial. 
Bread-stuffs will be found far preferable to meats. Indeed, 
meat should be wholly avoided, because it is a powerful stim- 
ulant. It heats and fevers the blood, oppresses the brain, 
and increases the tendency mainly to be avoided. Bread, 
milk, Indian and rye puddings, vegetables, rice, fruit, and the 
like, should constitute the diet of those thus predisposed. Of 
course from spices, mustards, peppers, pickles, vinegar, and 
condiments, they should wholly abstain. Excepting alcoholic 
drinks, nothing is equally pernicious. Only those things 
should be taken which open the system, and keep it cool. 
Fruit may be eaten in almost any quantity with advantage, 
and so may jellies. But, unfortunately, sweet things are re- 
lished by such less than things that are sour and hot, such as 
pickles, peppers, etc. Eat them, but they will hurt you. 

Analogous to a cooling diet in its sedative influence, is cold 
water, both washing and bathing, especially the shower-bath. 
Cold water is certainly cooling, and as already explained, is 
pre-eminently calculated to carry off the superabundant heat 


of the system, and obviate that feverish tendency which con- 
stitutes the predisposition to be avoided '^^. Nothing will be 
found more beneficial to the insane than cold water applied 
externally, especially to the head, and taken internally in co- 
pious and frequent draughts. This prescription must com- 
mend itself too forcibly to the common sense of every reader 
to require comment or defence. 

But above all things, let all thus predisposed, avoid those 
subjects on which their relatives or ancestors were deranged. 
Thus, one of the topics of derangement appertaining to the 
family of a young man who hung himself in the summer of 
1842, on account of his having been disappointed in a love 
matter, was the social affections. He should have known this, 
and therefore have nipped his affections in the bud, unless he 
was sure of their being reciprocated, and consummated by mar- 
riage. In short, he should never have allowed his affections 
to become engaged, till he was sure of marriage — a direction 
suitable for most young people, but doubly so for those thus 
predisposed, because love is a very exciting thing any how, 
whereas they require peace and quiet. Still, unless such are 
able to govern their love, they should locate their affections, 
though they need not therefore be in haste to marry. A partner 
having a cool, soothing temperament, should alone be chosen. 

But the most efficacious prevention, after all, is to place in- 
tellect on the throne, and to bear in mind that this heredi- 
tary tendency exists, and when your feelings become pow- 
erfully awake to any particular subject, remember that they 
are constitutionally too active, and therefore magnify every- 
thing, and remembering this, will enable you to look on with 
intellectual coolness upon the bustling tumult of raging pas- 
sions as upon school-boys at play. Thus, if the predisposi- 
tion be to melancholy, remember that these gloomy feelings 
have no foundation in reality, but are the product of your own 
organization ; that but for this hereditary predisposition, the 
same circumstances would produce opposite feelings ; that, in 
short, all your trouble is self-made, and without foundation, 
and this will enable you to dismiss them. And so of any pre- 
disposition that may beset you. True, this will require much 


self-government — a quality of the utmost importance to those 
thus predisposed, and yet, frooi the very nature of their dis- 
ease, so very rare — still it will amply repay all the pains 
taken in its cultivation ; and the preceding prescriptions will 
do much to mitigate, and finally banish from the human family 
so terrible a scourge of ignorant, suffering man. 

These and all other preventives and cures of insanity, ap 
ply equally to the prevention and cure of nervous diseases 
generally, so that to cure nervous and cerebral disorder, re- 


That the author sets a high value upon the water cure as a 
remedial agent, this entire work bears abundant internal evi- 
dence. Its power and efficacy probably exceed all other me- 
dicinal means now known. Of its wonderful healing virtues^ 
its oxygen — of which it contains a large proportion — is pro- 
bably the chief instrumentality — the varions organs imbibing 
from it this great promoter of universal life®^. Scarcely 
less powerful for good is its efficiency and unequalled capa- 
bility for removing obstructions — for taking up and carrying 
out of the system those noxious matters which obstruct the 
functions of life, breed disease, and hasten death. For re- 
ducing inflammations, and consequent pain, too, it has no 
equal ^°'* ^°^ ^°^ It is also an efficient promoter of normal ac- 
tion — of universal life '°^ For reviving debilitated, withered 
organs, for rebuilding broken constitutions, for cleansing the 
stomach, bracing the system, and infusing new life throughout 
all its borders, water excels all other agents combined. It is 
destined to lay medicines and the lancet on the shelf of the 
past, and to substitute throughout the whole earth the bless- 
ings of health for the miseries of disease, and to double many 
times over the average span of human life. No family, no 
individual should be without a knowledge of the best modes 
of applying it in all sorts and stages of debility and disorder. 
That knowledge it was the original design of this volume to 
impart. But its assigned limits are already full. 

Other diseases, such as gout, scrofula, and the like, could be 
similarly treated : yet this is not necessary, because the great 


prevention, the great cure, is a strict observance of the 



Finally, let old and young, one and all, take every possible 
pains to preserve and improve health. Behold the infinite 
perfection of these bodies ! Behold the variety and power of 
their functions. Be astonished at their almost angelic capa- 
bilities of enjoyment ! ^ O who can contemplate this highest 
piece of divine mechanism without overflowing wonder and 
gratitude. And was such a structure made to be abused ? 
Shall we bandy about so delicate, so complicated, so infinitely 
valuable a gift as if an old box ? Shall we undo all he has 
done to secure the invaluable blessings of health and happi- 
ness ? Shall we impair, vitiate, or break down functions thus 
inimitably perfect in themselves, thus laden with all the en- 
joyments of life ? Shall we not rather cherish and enhance 
them ? Shall we nurture our land and our trees, and neglect 
our own bodies ? Shall we not love and keep a present thus 
divine, as well on account of its own intrinsic worth as its 
Bountiful Giver ? Shall we cherish rich earthly legacies yet 
abuse a divine legacy which is perpetually bringing forth, 
from its exhaustless store-house, every enjoyment, actual and 
possible, of life ? Shall we love earthly donors the more the 
greater their gifts, and not worship, with our whole souls, the 
Author of that life so infinitely above all other bestowments? 
Life, O how precious ! Its wanton waste, how infinitely fool- 
ish and wicked ! Let others do as they list, but let my great 
concern be to occupy this heaven-conferred talent while it lasts, 
and to guard against its injury with Argus vigilance. God 
forbid my doing or allowing the least thing to impair its effi. 
cacy or neglecting any means of enhancing its capabilities* 
This my sacred duty, my paramount obligation to God and 
my own soul, let me study, let me fulfil. O thou Bestower of 
this " pearl of great price," grant or deny whatever else 
thou wilt, give me intellect to know, and the inflexible deter- 
mination to practice the laws and conditions of health and 
LIFE — an end which may this book go forth to promote. 










Hi. a :.* 

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