Proteid foods are usually costly, and the ability of a com-munity to indulge freely in this form of dietetic luxury depends in large measure upon its commercial prosperity. The palate is an extremely sensitive organ, and the average individual properly derives great satisfaction from the pleasurable effects of tasty articles of food. Furthermore, there are many curious and quite unphysiological notions abroad regarding foods, which tend to incite persons to unnecessary excess and extravagance whenever they acquire the means to do so. The latter point is well illustrated by the more or less prevalent opinion that a cut of tenderloin steak is more nutritious than a cut of round steak. It is true that the former is apt to be more tender, to have a little finer flavor; but the round steak, when properly prepared, is just as nutritious, and equally capable of meeting the needs of the body, as the more expensive tenderloin. With increasing prosperity, we turn at once, as a rule, to the more tasty and appetizing viands, partly to satisfy the craving of appetite and palate, and partly because there is an inherent belief that these varied delicacies, accessible to the prosperous community, count as an aid to health and strength. The poor laborer, with his small wage, is restricted to a certain low level of dietary variety, and must likewise be economical as to quantity, but on the first opportunity afforded by a fuller purse he is apt to pass from corned beef to a fresh roast with its more appetizing flavor; to eschew brown bread in favor of the white loaf, and in many other ways to evince his desire for a dietary which, though perhaps no more nutritious, appeals because of its finer flavor, more appetizing appearance, and greater variety. He is in the same position as the smoker who, limited by his purse to a five-cent cigar after dinner, quickly passes to a cigar of better flavor as soon as his finances warrant the indulgence. At the same time, if prosperity continues, our laborer will speedily pass to a higher level of proteid intake and greater fuel value, through increased consumption of meat and butter, together with other articles rich in proteid and fat.

In this connection, we may emphasize a fact of some significance in its bearing on dietetic customs; viz., that ever since Liebig advanced his theory that proteid material is the sole source of musclar energy, there has been a deep-rooted belief that meat is the most efficient kind of food for keeping up the strength of the body, and hence especially demanded by all whose work is mainly physical. Although this view, as we have seen, has been thoroughly disproved, the idea is still more or less generally held that an abundance of meat is a necessary requisite for a good day's work, a view which undoubtedly accounts in some measure for the tendency toward a high proteid intake, evinced by many of the laboring class whose means will permit the necessary outlay.

Increased consumption of proteid food may be coincident with thrift and commercial success, but there is no justification for the belief that these are the result of changed dietary conditions. The dietary of our New England forefathers was, according to all accounts, exceedingly limited as compared with that of to-day, but it is doubtful if the present generation is any better developed, physically or mentally, Uian the stalwart and vigorous people who opened np this country to civilization. To-day, as a ration, we have greater wealth, and our commercial prosperity has faecone phenomenal; but would any one think for a moment that these characteristics are attributable to the large consumption of proteid food so common to this generation ef the American people? No, increased wealth simply paves the way for greater freedom in the choice of food; increased commercial success and business prosperity throw open avenues which formerly were closed; greater variety of animal foods, and vegetable food* as well, rich in proteid, are made easily accessible, und appeal to eye and palate on all sides; appetite and craving for food are abnormally stimulated, and dietetic habits and customs change accordingly. In the words of another, "the one thing that primitive, barbarous, and civil-ized man alike long for is an abundance of the 'flesh-pots of Egypt'. The very first use the latter makes of his increased power and financial resources is to buy new, rare, and expensive kinds of meat." With these facts before us, it is difficult to accept the assumption that dietetic customs afford any indication of the food requirements of the body. To the physiologist such a view does not appeal, since there is a lack of any scientific evidence that carries conviction.

Hut it may be asked, is not appetite a safe guide to follow? Do not the cravings of the stomach and the so-called pangs of hunger merit consideration? Is it not the part of wisdom to follow inclination in the choice and quantity of our food? Can wo not safely rely upon these factors as an index of the real needs of the body? If these questions are to be answered in the affirmative, then it is plain that a study of dietetic customs will tell us definitely how much food and what kinds of food are required daily to supply the true wants of the body. There are writers who claim that instinct is a perfectly safe guide to follow; that it is far superior to reason; but it is to be noticed that most of these writers, if they have any physiological knowledge to draw upon, are sooner or later prone to admit that the body has certain definite needs which it is the purpose of food to supply, with the added implication that any surplus of food over and above what is necessary to meet these demands is entirely uncalled for. Thus, one such writer states that " the man in the street follows his God-given instincts and plods peacefully along to his three square meals a day, consisting of anything he can find in the market, and just as much of it as he can afford, with special preference for rich meats, fats, and sugars." Yet this same writer, a little later, emphasizes the fact that "every particle of the energy which sparkles in our eyes, which moves our muscles, which warms our imaginations, is sunlight cunningly woven into our food by the living cell, whether vegetable or animal. Every movement, every word, every thought, every aspiration represents the expenditure of precisely so much energy derived from food." Why, then, would it not be wise to ascertain how much energy is so expended, on an average, during the day's activity and govern the intake of food accordingly? Why not apply an intelligent supervision in place of following an instinct which, in the words of the author just quoted, leads one on to consume "anything be can find in the market and just as much of it as he can afford "? Truly, if dietetic customs and the habits of mankind are the results of instinct working in this fashion, there cannot be much value in the data obtained by observing the quantities of food mankind is in the habit of eating. Dietary standards based on such observations must be open to the suspicion of representing values far above the actual needs of the body.