Simple as this may appear at first sight, it is one of the most difficult problems with which human beings are confronted. The diet of a horse is limited, so is that of fowls. Among wild animals we find some that are flesh eaters, such as the lion and the tiger, while others live on vegetables or fruits. Man, on the other hand, like the pig (save the mark!) eats everything, and the question is what to choose out of this unlimited bill of fare.

We must remember that people are not all built alike, and that what is one man’s food is another’s poison. There is no greater mistake than that of imitating other people. The native of India thrives on rice, but white men who attempt to live exclusively on it soon find their systems going to pieces.

Even among persons of the same race we find marked differences. One of our neighbours flourishes on vegetables and bread; we adopt the same diet, with the result that we become too tired to do our work. Another takes meat three times a day and looks well on it; we try the same, and grow gouty. Another consumes a quart of milk a day in addition to his ordinary food, and says he cannot get on without it; we follow his example, and get a bilious attack.

There is a hale old gentleman of eighty who takes every night a supper of bread and cheese, with beer and walnuts to follow, going to bed immediately afterwards, and waking up fresh and vigorous in the morning. Most of us, if we took a supper like that, would go to bed to stay there.

The fact is that there is no general rule applicable to everyone. Some people thrive on a vegetarian diet, but others cannot get along on it at all; and the same remark applies to every other such restriction. It rests with each individual to discover for himself or herself what foods suit them best and keep to them, avoiding any which manifestly disagree.

Within reasonable bounds the question of likes and dislikes is a useful guide. Rich, highly-seasoned dishes are of course bad for everybody; but as applied to plain, healthy articles of food, it is safe to say that what people like agrees with them, and vice versa.

As to dislikes, there are no two opinions on the subject. If the taste of any food is repugnant it should be avoided like poison. In fact, so far as that particular person is concerned, it probably is a poison. Some people dislike cheese to such an extent that they cannot even swallow it, try as they may. If they did succeed in getting it down the results would most likely be disastrous. I know of one family who cannot take eggs in any form, not even in the smallest quantity as a mere flavouring. If they get it by mistake they are ill with an attack resembling acute gastritis for days afterwards.

It does not follow that a patient has been living luxuriously because he is suffering from habitual dyspepsia. It is not uncommon to hear people say that they cannot understand why they should be so afflicted, as their diet had been of the plainest. Bacon and dry bread, with toast and marmalade to follow, sounds rational enough in all conscience. But if the bacon is badly fried and swimming in fat, the bread new, and the toast hot and soaked in butter, it is not surprising that people feel wretched and uncomfortable for the rest of the morning.

The way in which food is cooked has always to be taken into consideration. Some cooks and housewives have a genius for spoiling good food, either in the way they prepare it or by their neglect to clean the pots and pans. Greasy saucepans have much to account for.

Sometimes, however, the fault lies at the door of the person concerned. A partiality for new bread, and an unwillingness to give it up when so advised, have been at the root of a chronic dyspepsia with all its attendant evils. Articles of diet are divided into four classes: Proteids or meat foods, carbohydrates or starchy, oils and fats, water and other liquids.

Proteids or meat foods, include fish, fowl, butcher’s meat, and vegetables, such as peas, beans and lentils. The problem of meat, and particularly butcher’s meat, is a vital one for all who are getting on in years. So long as people have no organic disease necessitating special diet they cannot go far wrong in regard to fowl, fish, tongue, ham or bacon. It is a different matter when we come to deal with butcher’s meat, for this contains a large proportion of fibre, which constitutes one of the most difficult forms of waste matter to get rid of.

And the ill-effects of this waste matter are more pronounced as people get older, for however healthy they may be, their systems become less capable of eliminating it. It is an excellent rule, therefore, for all persons approaching middle age, even for those who have got into the forties, to reduce their allowance of butcher’s meat, especially beef, taking it no oftener than once a day, and preferably at midday instead of in the evening. Digestion goes on very slowly, if at all, during the hours of sleep, and the habit of eating meat at late dinner or supper is one of the chief causes tending to gout and rheumatism of the gouty type.

It is this disease in some phase or other which is the starting-point of so many breakdowns in health. The harmful residue in the system affects almost every organ and tissue, and the arteries in particular. Its most serious effect is on the vessels of the kidney: when once they have become thickened, the elimination of waste matter is reduced to dangerous limits. Then the health of the whole system is imperilled, for one of the most important outlets has become blocked up.

Too often this complication means the beginning of the end, the onset of premature old age. It is on this account, and not from any desire to advocate vegetarianism, that I have emphasised the necessity of diminishing the quantity of butcher’s meat, once the period of early manhood has gone past. In fact, it would be to the benefit of all, young and old alike, to take nothing heavier than fish or fowl at least one or two days a week.

Carbohydrates or starchy foods. These include bread, sago, tapioca, rice, and underground vegetables such as potatoes. Bread is the most important of these. It is called the staff of life, and yet it accounts for more dyspepsia than all other causes put together, and for more miserableness than all the incidental troubles and misfortunes of life in one. For there is nothing which depresses a man’s spirits so effectually as dyspepsia, and an overwhelming proportion of cases of this complaint are due to the imperfect digestion of starchy foods, of which bread is the most common.

Starchy foods are dealt with by the saliva, and this, in order to do its work properly, must penetrate to the heart of the granules. And this it cannot do if something else has got there first. People are often surprised when they get indigestion after partaking of bread and milk; that is, bread soaked in hot milk. But the milk has permeated the starch granules, and as two things cannot be in the same place at the same time, the saliva cannot get there.

This explains why bread is the source of so much discomfort. For bread, as it is usually made in this country, is more or less moist, and consequently the saliva has the same difficulty to encounter as in the case of bread and milk. The water has arrived first and keeps the saliva out. If the process were carried on to a further and drier stage, as in the hardbake of the Colonial, we should be able to assimilate it with ease.

We are apt to envy the Oriental his capacity for digesting starch. Yet his powers in this direction are due not so much to any inherited faculty on his part as to the way in which the rice is cooked. The glutinous material on the outside of the granules prevents the saliva from penetrating. The Oriental gets rid of it by washing the rice in cold water half-way through the cooking, rubbing it between his hands at the same time. The writer once recommended this plan to a lady who complained of indigestion after eating rice, and told her that if she insisted on its being carried out she would have no further difficulty in the matter. She replied that there would be a great difficulty—the cook would immediately give notice.

Yet if these hints as to the preparation of starchy foods were taken advantage of, we should hear much less of the fermentative dyspepsia which is at the root of so much of the slow poisoning from which many people suffer, to the detriment of their general health and their nervous systems in particular.

It is this slow, long-continued poisoning which undermines the nervous system and lays it open to attack from all the other causes that predispose to a breakdown. No amount of inconvenience or self-denial is too great that can lead to the avoidance of the dyspepsia which causes it. And this ailment may accompany the plainest and simplest of diets, if they are taken in the wrong way. Space would not permit of our treating this fully, but mention will be made of two or three common articles of diet which are liable to be followed by indigestion.

Apart from any special idiosyncrasy, many people suffer from nausea or some other form of discomfort after taking eggs. It is not uncommon to hear people say that they can take them in the latter part of the day, but not in the mornings, without some ill-effect. If that is so, they should be careful to avoid having them for breakfast, for when taken at this meal they are often responsible for headaches which come on in the course of the morning.

In many cases these bad effects can be avoided by having the eggs boiled for eight minutes. This prolonged boiling reduces the contents to a light powder, and seems to get rid of some element that is of a poisonous nature.

A small quantity of soup is beneficial as a preliminary to dinner. If a man is tired after his day’s work it stimulates the digestion and puts it into a better condition to do its work. On the other hand, it is a great mistake to take too much of it, as then it is apt to swamp the stomach with so much liquid as to hinder the secretion of gastric juice.

Some people can digest fat who cannot take oil without becoming bilious, and some cannot take either. Yet it is as a rule the very ones who cannot take one or the other who try to do so, in spite of their aversion for it. It seems strange that it is stout people who are best able to digest fat, and thin ones who cannot do so. It is not so strange after all, however, for the simple reason that people are thin because they cannot assimilate fat.

Yet oftentimes we find such persons persevering in taking fat or even cod-liver oil, in order to put on flesh. The result is, in many instances, that they become thinner than ever, owing to their digestions being thrown completely out of order.

Milk is the ideal food. Yet there is no food, however ideal, which can be regarded as universal. There are some people, and not a few, who cannot take milk without suffering from indigestion or biliousness. Even among children one finds this peculiarity at times; if such youngsters are forced to drink it, they are upset in consequence.

This is often due to the fact that it is taken raw and undiluted. There is a widely prevalent theory to the effect that any interference with the milk in its natural state deprives it of its nutritive qualities. This is not the case. If the milk is boiled, for instance, a certain substance which it contains, casein by name, undergoes a change. Yet it is this casein which causes the curdling of milk that is prone to take place in many stomachs, producing flatulence, pain, and it may be actual vomiting. This casein is nutritious to those whose digestions can cope with it, but for those who cannot digest it the boiling is of great advantage, as the remaining elements of the milk become more nutritious because more digestible.

It is of no use simply to heat the milk, it must be actually brought to the boil. If the taste of it in this form is objected to, this can be overcome by adding a little sugar or salt, or a flavouring of nutmeg. And if the patients do not care for it hot, it may be cooled down and taken cold with or without soda-water.

Sour milk, either in the form of ordinary butter-milk or prepared in the scientific manner, is one of the healthiest of drinks. It has been a well-established fact for many years that people living in parts of the country where the drinking of butter-milk is in vogue are exceptionally healthy. This led to the researches which culminated in the sour milk treatment, which came so much to the front a few years ago. It was a valuable discovery, for many of us are so situated that we cannot get butter-milk. Also, the scientific way of preparing it is much cleaner and more satisfactory than the old crude one, which was liable to implant other and less desirable germs in our inside along with the health-giving ones.

When this treatment came into vogue we were all to lose our aches and pains, and enjoy robust health or something approaching it. Already, in this short time, the method has fallen almost into disrepute. And simply, so people said, because it did not do what it professed. In this they did it a great injustice. If it did not do what it professed to accomplish it was only because it did not have a chance. If people continue to eat all sorts of unsuitable things and bolt them down, they need not expect to whitewash their insides by taking sour milk on the top of an injudicious diet. Like a good many other adjuncts to health, it has to be taken with a grain, not of salt but of sound common sense.

People are often perplexed on the question of sauces, as to whether they are harmful or otherwise. A rich, oily sauce is only too likely to cause dyspepsia, but a flavouring of what we might term a “clean” sauce is often an aid to digestion. For in spite of all that has been said and written on the subject of plain foods, there is no doubt that if a taste is pleasant it tends to stimulate the flow of saliva and gastric juice. There is a scientific foundation for the saying, “It makes my mouth water.”

The main disadvantages of sauces and spices is that if used to excess they are apt to increase the appetite more than they stimulate the gastric juice, and so lead to more food being taken than can be digested.

After all, hunger is the best sauce, and the man who has earned his meal by work or exercise has little need of artificial aids and flavourings.

A vast amount of evil has been attributed to the use of tea. To a certain extent this condemnation is true. Yet it is not so much the tea itself as the way in which it is made and the conditions under which it is taken that are to be blamed for the mischief.

If allowed to stand stewing for long it is nothing short of a poison. For then it is converted into a concentrated extract of tannin, which has a most irritating effect on the wall of the stomach, producing a secretion of acid liquid, causing heartburn and perhaps injuring the delicate mucous membrane to the point of ulceration.

There is also another deleterious substance present called thein, and this has a specially pernicious influence on the nervous system when taken in excess. If tea is drunk within a few minutes of being made there is just enough of this alkaloid to produce a pleasant, refreshing effect without any harm being done. Yet even when prepared in this way, but taken too frequently, the accumulated effect of repeated small doses is as injurious as a large one, causing nervous irritability and sleeplessness.

In many instances the harm of tea-drinking lies in the fact of its being taken at wrong times. The custom of drinking it after a meal such as dinner is a bad one, as it retards the flow of gastric juice.

Of all pernicious customs there is none more to be deprecated than that of high tea, as it is called. It is a sociable meal, but a deadly one. Many of us look back with a shudder to an array of sardines, tongue, ham or fish, followed by bread and butter with two sorts of jam, buns and cakes of all sorts, washed down with copious draughts of strong tea.

The use of tea, as opposed to its abuse or misuse, is highly beneficial to the system. There is no remedy equal to it for a tired headache. It washes out the stomach and gives it a fresh start for the next meal. A cup of tea in the early morning will often enable a better breakfast to be taken, and one in the afternoon between four and five o’clock helps to complete the digestion of the midday meal.

Furthermore, it serves a good purpose in making the blood circulate more freely and in dilating the vessels of the skin, thus assisting in the elimination of waste matter. In this respect it is much better adapted than cold drinks in hot weather, particularly for those engaged in active outdoor games, such as tennis. For it makes a more efficient thirst-quencher, and by flushing out the tissues helps to prevent the onset of fatigue.

Have it freshly made, take it in moderation, and it will never do any harm. Especially is this the case with China tea, if taken in preference to Indian, for it does not injure the stomach or the nerves in the way that the latter is apt to do.

Coffee does not as a rule tend to cause indigestion or affect the nerves; its ill-effects are due to the fact of its causing biliousness. People of what is known as a “livery” type had better avoid it altogether, if they have found it to have this result. Yet they might as well ascertain first as to whether it was the coffee or the milk which they took with it which accounted for their discomfort. It is a mystery as to why people, who cannot on their own assertion take hot milk without upsetting their livers, should drink it when its taste is disguised by that of coffee. The milk is there just the same, and the after-effects are bound to be as bad as if taken by itself.

Let such persons take their coffee thin, making it with water, and adding only as much milk as they would put into their tea, and it will probably turn out that they can take it without any bad after-effects.

There is one form, however, in which this beverage is harmful. That is in the form of black coffee. When taken in this form it certainly causes indigestion as well as biliousness. Some of the most persistent cases of dyspepsia, especially that which is most pronounced on waking up in the morning, are due entirely to the habit of drinking black coffee after dinner in the evenings. And the taste is evidently a seductive one, for there is no habit, not even that of alcohol, more difficult to eradicate. Yet until the use of coffee in this form is given up, the dyspepsia will most surely persist.

The amount of liquid consumed in the twenty-four hours is one of the most important questions in connection with diet, especially for anyone suffering from headaches, rheumatic pains, malaise, undue fatigue, and a variety of suchlike complaints, “minor ailments” as they are called. These ailments are anything but minor, we may observe, in regard to the amount of suffering they cause, and the train of symptoms and diseases to which they lead.

Without a sufficient quantity of liquids the waste matter in the tissues is apt to become too condensed, and on this account less able to reach the eliminatory organs, whose function it is to throw it off. It not uncommonly happens that a man will consult a doctor, complaining that he is suffering from pains in his limbs, either in the muscles or the joints or both, also from a constant dull headache and sense of tiredness. He fears that he is on the verge of rheumatic fever, and it is not improbable that that is exactly what he is. On inquiry it turns out that he has been in the habit of taking very little liquid either with meals or between them. He is told to take an extra quart, two if possible, a day. Then it often happens that in a week or two all his symptoms have disappeared, and he is capable of as much exertion as he ever was.

The liquid may be taken in any form, hot or cold, or in tea, coffee, lemon water or any other beverage the person may prefer. It does not matter how it is taken, so long as it gets into the system.

So much has been written and spoken on the subject of alcohol, that it would seem almost unnecessary to discuss it fully here. Ten or fifteen years ago the necessity would have been vastly more pressing than it is to-day. For no change is more remarkable than that which has come over public opinion on this topic of recent years. For nearly a century temperance reformers have been combating the moral effect of strong drink. Then the medical aspect of the question came to the fore, and the moderate drinker began to wonder if the matter did not apply to himself as well as to the drunkard.

Excess is a matter of personal equation, and many men who have always considered themselves strictly temperate have begun to realise that while the amount they were taking was not sufficient to affect their moral fibre, it was too much so far as their bodily health was concerned. Consequently a welcome improvement has been manifest in the drinking habits of the community. The growth of athletics has no doubt had much to do with this change.

It may be, too, that the attitude of the medical profession has had a share. Twenty or thirty years ago it was a dangerous thing for a doctor to tell a patient to reduce his ration of alcohol. Now the profession gives its orders on the point with as little hesitation as it exhibits in ordering a diet. And the public has shown its appreciation of this fact in the view it has taken. Once a doctor who did not order wine during convalescence was looked upon as a faddist. Now he is regarded as old-fashioned if he does so, unless there is some special reason for it.

While reserving for every man the right of his own opinions as to alcohol as a beverage, medical men rarely order it save as a drug, as in the administration of brandy in acute illness.

Perhaps the most significant proof of the change in public opinion is the fact that many patients now ask a doctor, not which form of alcohol is “the best for them,” but which “will do them the least harm.”