On October 10th, as a result of the experiments, weight 163 lbs., and
stationary; chest measure same as before, but waist measure reduced to
37 inches, or one inch below the "tailor's ideal," and nearly down to
the "athlete's ideal."
The energy and desire for activity with immunity from fatigue, which
was the characteristic equipment of twenty years ago returned, but not,
of course, the trained muscular strength or suppleness of athletic days.
The food invited by Appetite at this stage, the nutriment in which
counter-balanced the waste in each twenty-four hours, consisted of
about thirty ordinary mouthfuls of potato, bread, meat, or anything
selected by Appetite, masticated and manipulated to the end.
One meal a day was taken for convenience, and because it seemed, under
the then existing circumstances, hot summer weather, to be the time set
by Nature for eating. "I rise in the morning," as a champion pugilist
once put it, "when my bed gets tired of me," which at the time was
usually before, or at, daylight, and began writing or other work. By
one o'clock I usually was "worked out," but had already disposed of
practically a day's work. Then, in the middle of the day, when all the
animals rest and some of them chew the cud, I took my meal. I had not,
meantime, experienced a moment of craving for _anything_ since the meal
of the day before, but I sat down with an epicurean appetite.
The article of food on the _menu_ that first attracted me, I fixed my
desire upon. At the time it was usually a meat or a fish, and there
accompanied it only a cup of coffee, nine-tenths milk, bread and
butter, and potato. Sometimes the meat selected was an _entrée_, and
was garnished with rice and other fruits or vegetables.
About thirty mouthfuls of these, disposed of in something less than
twenty-five hundred acts of mastication or other movement of the mouth,
and taking about thirty minutes to thirty-five minutes, satisfied the
appetite so perfectly that all the ices and desserts on a sumptuous
bill of fare had no attraction.
In the meantime, water was drunk, in small portions slowly, and ice
water at that, without restriction, to satisfy thirst, _but not_ when
any food was in process. In the mouth the water was almost instantly
brought to body-temperature and its coolness was very agreeable to all
the senses. I now rarely take any water except in very hot weather when
perspiration is active and then only enough to quench thirst, excess
giving discomfort and necessitating more perspiration. Water injures
digestion by being taken with meals only because it is used to wash
down food not yet prepared for the stomach. It is the unfit food that
is carried down by it and not the water that does the harm.
One cup of _café au lait_, well sweetened, sipped and enjoyed according
to the epicurean method, satisfied all desire for other sweets and
created a harmony of variety that was simply perfect, while it was
perfectly simple.
I did not try to work, or think, for some time after the meal; that is,
I did not force thought; but reading, a cat nap, a walk, a matinée,
a ball game, or a ride in a trolley car were recreations which I was
able to enjoy as a sort of _pousse café_ for two or three hours after
the meal, and then the energy for work returned, so that if there were
something yet to be done in the time before the accustomed bed hour,
another day's work was easily accomplished.
Athletic work, physical labour, extreme activity in any form, all
benefit by the same treatment, as I have since been able to prove both
personally and by experiment with others. The only difference is the
greater waste of tissue, and the greater need for restorage, demanding
an evening meal and possibly an earlier midday meal.
Exercise, work, activity--anything that creates a demand for nutriment
is the especial friend of Taste. It gives healthy appetite and hence
there is plenty for Taste to do and he likes to be of service.
At first, rules have to be followed in order to serve Economic
Nutrition to the best advantage, but they soon become habits of life,
or living, that will naturally come of themselves from attention to
Taste according to these directions.
It has been our experience, that if there are any diseases growing out
of overstraining of the lower intestines, kidneys, liver, etc., they
will soon disappear.
Perfect nutrition does away with the waste until there will be no
invitation to discharge oftener than once in four or five days, when
the response will be easy and final, with less than half the quantity
of an ordinary daily contribution.
There are wealth, health, strength, long life, abundant usefulness and
much resultant happiness offered as a reward for learning and following
Nature's Perfect Way.
When we learn that obeying Nature's Laws emancipates us from the
slavery to cravings of unnatural appetite, releases us from constant
attention on meals, does away with at least half the drudgery of
woman's work and makes us immune from the attacks of microbes of
disease, it is then no hardship to take a few lessons in the Art of
Economic Nutrition.
Every artificial method that has been suggested to coax Nature into
changing her problems to suit man's poor interpretation has failed, but
Nature has been patient withal. Her door to reform is never closed, and
her patience is boundless towards prodigal and foolish children.
Nature has put the keenest of the senses at the threshold of life to
serve both as hosts and servants, but Appreciation has heretofore
failed to recognise their true office, while Ignorance, blinded by
Greed, has spurned and abused the best of servants.[16]
[Footnote 16: The "symptoms" in the personal case of the author
described above persist after five years' test and experience. The
endurance-test of the half-century birthday in France, the observations
of Dr. Burnett in Washington, and the examinations in the laboratories
of Cambridge and Yale all tell the same story of a reformed and
increasing efficiency even with five years of added age handicap, so
that the logic of the advice originally given in this book stands
proved, so far. I have had my weight reduced from 217 pounds to 130
pounds and felt best when lightest. I carry my weight at any figure
desired, but most of the time carry a 20-pound handicap in winter
and sometimes in summer to calm the fears of solicitous friends, who
think I must be ill when I am not looking "robust." Extreme robustness
is a great danger to life. A partner of the author in early days in
California, several years his junior and just in the prime of life and
fortune, passed away from over-robustness, as have many of the world's
brightest and best citizens. Six of the author's chums of ten years ago
have died because of too much robustness and worry. They heeded not.
The author may follow them, any moment, but meantime he is enjoying
life as never before.]