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Perhaps the most important factor of all, in considering this question of man’s natural diet, is the anatomical argument—the argument, that is, which says that man must or should naturally eat certain foods, for the reason that he belongs to the class or genus of animals which lives upon that class of foods—and that, consequently, he should live upon them also. Comparative anatomy affords us one of the most tangible and at the same time one of the most forceful and convincing arguments that can be furnished in favour of man’s natural diet (whatever that may prove to be)—for the reason that its facts are so well-attested that they cannot be gainsaid by anyone who is in possession of them; and only the inferences drawn from these facts can be disputed—which is a question that will be considered later. As before stated, this line of argument is in many ways the most important with which we shall have to deal; it will tend either to condemn or to confirm my argument most strongly. From a scientific standpoint, the study of this subject is founded upon the fact that the diet of any animal, in its natural state, is always found to agree both with its anatomical structure and with its several digestive processes and general bodily functions. So clearly is this fact recognised, indeed, by comparative anatomists and scientists generally, that animals have been divided, according to their dietetic habits, into four great classes—herbivorous, frugivorous, carnivorous and omnivorous. There are various sub-and minor-divisions that can be and in fact are made—such as the gramnivora, or grain-eaters; the rodentia, or gnawers; the ruminants, or cud-chewers; and the edentata or creatures without teeth. These subdivisions need not concern us here, however; and I shall not discuss their anatomical structure or food-habits at any length. Their names sufficiently classify them—in a work of this nature, which deals with foods, and is not a natural history. For practical purposes, the gramnivora may be included in the class of frugivora—since most frugivorous animals eat grains to some extent. This understood, we can proceed to a consideration of the facts; and we shall see to which of these classes man belongs.

In order to classify an animal, and place him in his proper division, it is necessary first of all to make a careful examination of his physical structure, and examine his organs in turn and severally, with the utmost care; when, by a comparative study of his organs, and by comparing them with those of other animals, living upon other foods, we shall be enabled to classify man properly—at least, so far as the evidence afforded by comparative anatomy enables us to reach a decisive conclusion one way or the other. There are numerous other facts and arguments to be taken into consideration; but, as said before, the argument drawn from comparative anatomy is the most complete and convincing of all—since that alone practically settles the case for all other animals. Let us, therefore, consider the structure or anatomy of man, from this point of view; and see how far these arguments lead us, and to what class we should naturally assign man, from a study of these facts alone. I shall take up for discussion first of all the teeth.

The Teeth

The Herbivora.—Let us consider first the teeth of the herbivorous animal. The horse, the ox, and the sheep are typical of this class of animals—living, as they do, almost entirely upon grass and herbs. The character of their food is peculiar. It is bulky, coarse, and covered with sharp, cutting edges—ill suited for tender mouths and gums. It must be mashed and ground thoroughly between the teeth and in the mouth before it is fit to be swallowed; and teeth of a peculiar construction and mutual relation are necessary in order properly to perform this function. Just such teeth they possess. There are twenty-four molars, six on each side in each jaw; and in the lower jaw, in front, eight incisors, or cutting teeth, with none on the upper jaw. In place of any of these teeth on the upper jaw, there is simply a horny plate upon which the long incisors of the lower jaw impinge when the jaws are closed. This renders possible the tearing, grinding motions necessary for biting off and masticating the food upon which these animals live. Not only that. The actual structure of their teeth is peculiarly suited to their food and its mastication. Unlike our teeth, they are not covered with enamel, but are composed of alternate layers of enamel and dentine—a soft, bony substance lying between the layers of enamel, and wearing away more rapidly than it does. The result is that there is soon formed a series of jagged edges, which form cutting, grinding surfaces, and are especially adapted for the food which these animals feed upon. No such formation is present in any other class of animals, since their food is different from that of the herbivora. It is a wise provision of nature, precisely adapted to the desired ends.

The Insectivora.—The insect-eaters are more nearly related to the Rodentia than to the Carnivora. The form of teeth varies with the species. The incisors and canines are not especially prominent, but the molars are always serrated with numerous small-pointed eminences, or cusps, adapted to crushing insects. The three leading families of the Insectivora are the moles, the shrew-mice, and the hedgehogs. They are of small size, and are found in all countries, except in South America and Australia.

The Rodentia.—The Rodentia is a peculiar order of animals, characterised by two very long and strong teeth in each jaw, which occupy the place of the incisors and canines in other animals. Back of these there is a toothless space, and then four or five molars, which, when they have a roughened crown, indicate a vegetable, but when pointed, an insectivorous, diet. Their principal foods are grains and seeds of all kinds, and with these, often, fruits, nuts and acorns. To this order belong the families of the squirrel, marmot, all species of mice, the beaver, porcupine, hare, and others.

An especial dietetic subdivision of the Rodentia is the Rhizophaga, or root-eaters, which includes some species of the Marsupials, and of mice. The food often consists exclusively of the roots of the beet, carrot, celery and onion.

The Edentata.—Occasionally, though rarely, animals of this class have rudimentary back teeth. Their food consists of leaves, blossoms, buds, and juicy stalks. Some also devour insects, especially ants. To this order belong the sloth, armadillo, pangolin, and great ant-eater.

The Omnivora.—Omnivorous animals have very distinctive teeth. The canines are markedly developed, forming regular tusks at the side of the mouth. These are used for attack and defence, and also to dig up roots, upon which these animals largely feed. The hog is typical of omnivorous animals of this character, and we all know his disposition no less than his anatomy! Animals of this class can live upon both animal and vegetable food, and man is supposed to be included in this category! The great argument brought forward by those who recommend a “mixed” diet (i.e. one composed of flesh, vegetables, fruits, roots, grains, etc.), is that man can live on all these foods, and retain life and some degree of health, and that therefore he is omnivorous. We shall come to consider this argument somewhat at length presently. For the moment, it is enough to say that (so far as his teeth are considered, at any rate) man is in no way similar to the hog, or to any omnivorous animal whatever, but totally different from all of them. The most casual glance at the mouth and teeth of the hog should convince us that we are not in that class! The other considerations we shall come to later.

The Carnivora.—The next great class that we must consider is the carnivora. Their teeth are very distinctive, and their shape and arrangement are entirely different from those of any of the other animals. There are the incisor teeth in front, and molars behind; but the most distinctive teeth are the canine, which especially distinguish this class of feeders. There are four of these—two in each jaw, placed upon the sides, and they are long, sharp, and pointed. The more nearly the animal is purely carnivorous, the more are these teeth developed, and the less meat the animal eats, the less are they developed. Thus, the feline species, which is perhaps the most typically carnivorous of all, have canine teeth very well developed; in them, they are most marked. In such animals, the canine teeth are also set considerably apart from other teeth. In the dog, however, the teeth are less prominent than they are in the cat; his claws, eyes, etc., are also less distinctly carnivorous, and it will be observed that his habits are decidedly less like those of the preying animal than are those of the cat: he sleeps at night instead of in the daytime; does not adopt the stealthy methods for catching birds, etc., which the cat follows. All this has its significance when it is remembered that dogs are much more easily weaned away from a flesh diet, on to one of milk, bread, biscuits, etc., than are cats, who are very difficult to wean from their carnivorous habits. This, however, is by the way.

In the bear family, again, the carnivorous characteristics are still less marked. The canine teeth are less and the molars and incisors more developed—the latter having a flat but roughened crown. All this indicates a still nearer approach to a vegetable and fruit diet—as is actually the case. The bear, as is well known, is fond of berries, fruits of all kinds, milk and honey.

Man, has, of course, two “eye teeth,” which are more or less pointed, and that I do not deny. But these teeth are comparatively so small, when compared with the corresponding canines of the real carnivora, as to be altogether insignificant. When we examine the mouth of a person with normal teeth, we find that the teeth are almost exactly similar in size and shape—so much so, in fact, that any person ignorant of the fact that we have “carnivorous teeth” in our heads (supposedly) cannot pick them out from the others! He does not experience any such difficulty in selecting the carnivorous teeth of the tiger or the cat! Strange, is it not? Even the omnivorous hog has teeth so much larger as to be totally dissimilar to those of man. Man’s teeth are so uniform that all traces of his carnivorous nature have entirely disappeared. The only reply that can be made to this criticism is that, although man’s carnivorous teeth are considerably smaller than those of the pure carnivora, they are still there, none the less, and consequently man is entitled to live upon a certain amount of meat—though not to make it his chief or exclusive diet, as do the pure carnivora. The very fact that he has such teeth in his head at all is proof positive, it will be urged, that man should, or at least can, without injury, live upon flesh to some extent. For otherwise how came these teeth into his head?

The answer to this is very simple. The gorilla—a typical example of the frugivorous animal—has these teeth much more strongly and markedly developed than man; and yet he does not feed upon flesh to any appreciable extent; and in fact lives almost entirely upon fruits, nuts, roots, etc. If we were to argue that man must eat meat, because of the carnivorous teeth in his head, much more must we insist that the orang and the gorilla should live upon flesh-food—and yet we know that these animals in their natural state do not eat flesh-foods at all, or only when they cannot obtain their own food in abundance! They are clearly frugivorous by nature; and, inasmuch as their eye-teeth are far more developed than are the same teeth in man’s head, we must come to the conclusion that man is certainly not adapted to a flesh diet, on account of his teeth or because of them. He is more certainly frugivorous than the gorilla—were we to judge by the teeth alone! They are mere rudiments—atrophied relics of bygone ages. Their use has ceased to be. Orangs and gorillas have some need of their teeth for purposes of cracking nuts, for digging up roots, for attack and defence, and perhaps other purposes in extreme necessity. But we have no need of teeth for any of these reasons, and hence the teeth are not developed in us, to any such great extent. All reason and analogy, therefore, clearly indicate that our teeth are far more indicative of a frugivorous diet than any animal living.

“I can never mention vegetarianism to a flesh-eating medical gentleman,” said Dr Trall,[3] “who does not introduce the teeth argument as the conclusion of the whole matter, as he asks triumphantly, ‘What were carnivorous teeth put in our jaws for if not to eat flesh?’

“I have an answer. They were never put there at all! If they really exist in particular cases, it must be by some accident. They were no part of the original constitution of humanity. And in truth, they have no existence at all, except in the imaginations of medical men—in medical books and journals, in the public newspapers, and the jaws of carnivorous animals....

“And now I propose to put this matter of teeth to the proof. Hearing may be believing, but seeing is the naked truth. I ask medical men to show their teeth; to open their jaws and let their teeth be seen. Let us have the light to shine in upon this dark and perplexing question. I appeal from their statements to their faces; from their books and schools to their own anatomy.

“Is there a person here who believes that, in the anatomy of his teeth, he is only part human? that he is a compromise of human and brute? Let him come forward and open his mouth.... I think, if we make a careful examination, we shall readily discover that he is, ‘toothically considered,’ neither perdaceous nor beastial; that he is, dietetically, neither swinish nor tigerocious; neither dogmatical nor categorical; nor is he exactly graminivorous, like the cattle; he is not even sheepish—but simply, wholly, and exclusively human!

“True, there are some resemblances between the teeth of men, women and children, and the teeth of cats, dogs, lions, tigers, hogs, horses, cattle, crocodiles, and megalosauruses. But there are differences, too! And the differences are just as significant as are the resemblances. There is a resemblance between a man’s face and the countenance of a codfish. There is also a striking difference. There is some resemblance between a man’s features—especially if he does not shave—and the features of a bear. There is some resemblance between a woman’s hair and a peacock’s feathers; between a man’s finger-nails and a vulture’s talons; between his eye-teeth and a serpent’s fangs. But, luckily for us, they are not the same, nor precisely alike. Man resembles, more or less, every animal in existence. He differs, too, more or less, from all animals in existence....

“There is one class of scholars who are competent and qualified by their studies to give an opinion on the question of the natural dietetic character of man. I mean naturalists, who have studied comparative anatomy with a special reference to this question. And it gives me pleasure to inform medical gentlemen that all of them without a single exception, with the great Cuvier at their head, have testified that the anatomical conformation of the human being, teeth included, is strictly frugivorous.

“There are indeed specimens of the human family who very closely resemble carnivorous animals, not only in their teeth, but also in their expressions of face and habits of eating—the Kalmuck Tartars, for example. But it is precisely because they have for many generations fed on the grossest animal food and offal, that their forms and features became coarse, brutal and revolting. No such example can be found in any nation or tribe whose dietetic habits have long been wholly or even chiefly vegetarian. I repeat, if these persistent advocates of a flesh-diet based on the anatomical argument will but come forward and let us look into the interior of their countenances, we will show them that they are much better than they supposed themselves to be. We will prove that they are higher in the scale of being than they have given themselves credit for. They have been altogether too modest in their pretensions. In consequence of a little mistake in the anatomy of their masticators, they have humbled themselves quite unnecessarily. Instead of ranking themselves high above the highest, of the animal kingdom, and close on to the borders of the angel kingdom, where God placed them, they have degraded themselves to the level of the scavengers....”

Further, it is interesting in this connection to note that anthropoid apes, as soon as they are deprived of their natural food and their natural life, soon become diseased and die. Says Dr Hartmann:

“Anthropoids when kept in confinement suffer from caries of the teeth, and jaws, from chronic and acute bronchial catarrhs, from inflammation and consumption of the lungs, from inflammation of the liver, from pericardial dropsy, from parasites of the skin and intestine, etc.”[4]

This is interesting as an illustration of the effects of perverted living upon apes; and suggests that man cannot depart from his natural food to any great extent, either, without dire consequences to himself. The thousands of sick and dying in every part of the country, the well-filled hospitals and overflowing graveyards unfortunately prove this to be the case!

Moreover, the eye-teeth of the anthropoid apes are of a totally different character from the canine teeth of the carnivora. The former are small and stout, and somewhat triangular; while the latter are long, round and slender. It is a noteworthy fact that the anthropoid eye-tooth is rough and cartilaginous at the point of contact between the external tooth and the gum, while that of the carnivora at the same point is smooth and sharp. The eye-tooth of the anthropoids is adapted for use in cracking nuts and the like, while those of the carnivora are exclusively employed in seizing and tearing flesh. Professor Nicholson, in his “Manual of Zoology,” pp. 604-605, says of the anthropoid apes:

“The canine teeth of the males are long, strong and pointed, but this is not the case with the females. The structure, therefore, of the canine teeth is to be regarded in the light of a sexual peculiarity, and not as having any connection with the nature of the food.”

The teeth of man are inferior in strength to those of the anthropoid apes, but the cause of this is to be sought not so much in their original character as in the fact that they have been weakened and degenerated by the use of cooked food for thousands of years.

It may perhaps be objected that anthropoid apes, which have been cited as typical frugivorous animals, are not so much so as I have contended; that, while their chief food is doubtless fruits and nuts, they do occasionally feed upon all kinds of substances—roots, insects, small animals when they can catch them, etc. Thus Professor Robert Hartmann in his “Anthropoid Apes” p. 255 says:

“Although they are for the most part content with vegetable diet, gibbons sometimes eat animal food, such as lizards; and Bennet saw a siamang seize and devour one of these animals whole.... They do not, however, display the keenness of scent and quickness of sight which distinguish some animals of a lower order; such as canine beasts of prey and ruminants manifest in many different ways.” (p. 256).

Now, it will be noticed in the above connection that (1) these apes are, by reason of their peculiar anatomical and physiological construction, incapable of competing with the carnivora for food of that character—and hence naturally disqualified to live upon it; and (2) these animals do not naturally live upon this food by choice, when other and, to them, more natural food is forthcoming. Only in the last stages of hunger do they resort to food of this nature, which they are obviously driven to by extremity, and are disqualified to eat by reason of their peculiar construction. An animal can be driven to eat anything if he is hungry enough. That does not prove that what he eats is his natural food, nevertheless! Instinct, and other considerations, must determine that.

The Frugivora.—The orang and the gorilla are perhaps the best examples of this class of animals. Some bats and kangaroos may be included in it also. Animals belonging to this class have thirty-two teeth—sixteen in each jaw; four incisors or cutting teeth; two pointed teeth, known as cuspids, four small molars, known as bicuspids, and six molars. The eye-teeth project somewhat beyond the others and fit into a blank space in the lower row, the other teeth articulating uniformly. I have referred to the uses of this large eye-tooth elsewhere (p. 29).

The Teeth of Man.—Now when we come to consider the teeth of man, we are at once struck by the fact that they correspond, in almost every particular, with the teeth of the gorilla and other frugivorous animals; and the fact they do not at all resemble or correspond to the teeth of any other animal! To the teeth of the herbivora, the carnivora, the omnivora, etc., they bear but the slightest resemblance, while they agree in almost every respect with the teeth of frugivorous animals. If we compare the teeth of man with those of the orang, the gorilla, or other frugivorous animal, we find that the number, the arrangement, the structure, the nature, and the size of the teeth are almost identical; while they bear but the smallest resemblances to the teeth of any other animal or genera. The complete absence of intervening spaces between the human teeth characterises man as the highest and purest example of the frugivorous animal. Man possesses no long, canine tooth, capable of catching and holding a captured prey; he possesses no tusks, like the omnivorous animals, and in every other way bears no resemblance whatever to any other animal—while his teeth do bear the very greatest and most detailed resemblance to the teeth of the apes and frugivorous animals generally. Bearing all these facts in mind, then, we surely can have no hesitation in classifying man as a frugivorous animal—so far as his teeth are concerned. Considered from that point of view, man must be classed with the pure frugivora.

Not only in the number and structure of the teeth, but also in the manner of masticating the food—in the movements of the teeth and jaws themselves—there is a distinct resemblance between man and the apes and other frugivora, and a radical distinction between him and all other animals. In herbivorous animals the jaws have three distinct motions—a vertical, or up-and-down motion; lateral or sidewise; and forward and backward. These movements are frequent and free, the result being that food eaten by these animals undergoes a thorough grinding process well suited to the nature of their food. In the carnivorous animals, on the other hand, the movements of the jaws are in one direction only—they open and shut “like a pair of scissors,” as one author said, and are well adapted for tearing and biting off food that is to be swallowed more or less en masse, to be acted upon by the powerful gastric juices of the stomach. No such limited action is the case with man. With him also the jaws can move in three directions—as in the case of the herbivora—but the extent of such motion is much more limited. In other words, the jaws of man are adapted to a diet necessitating more or less grinding, and he may be classed with the herbivora on that account. Whatever might be said, however, by way of associating man with the herbivora, he is certainly as distinct as possible from the carnivora, and resembles other animals far more than he resembles them. He is certainly not carnivorous, whatever else he may be!

Having thus passed in review the evidence presented by the teeth for the naturally frugivorous nature of man, we must now turn and examine the evidence afforded by the other organs of the body; and see how far comparative anatomy affords proof of the nature of man’s diet—as derived from a study of the other portions of his bodily frame. I shall review these in turn. First let us consider the extremities.

The Extremities.—According to Huxley, there are three great divisions in the animal kingdom, as regards the extremities—viz. those which possess hoofs, those possessing claws, and those possessing hands. To the first division belong the herbivora and the omnivora. Almost all animals possessing claws are carnivorous, while animals possessing hands are almost invariably frugivorous. To this rule there are very few exceptions. Since man certainly belongs to the class possessed of hands, he is certainly frugivorous by nature. The reason for this becomes apparent when we stop to consider the habits of the various animals. The herbivora have no need for hands; they have merely to walk about the grassy plains, and partake of what nature has offered to them in abundance. The carnivorous animal, on the other hand, takes his food by violence—suddenly springing upon some defenceless and unresisting animal, and tearing it to pieces with its sharp teeth and claws. For this reason they are developed to the size and extent we see—capable of inflicting such terrible injuries. And here I would again call attention to what I said before—as to the carnivorous traits and characteristics of the cat as compared with those of the dog. The teeth and claws are far more developed in the former than in the latter. In man, of course, his teeth and claws are entirely unfitted for any such office. The soft, yielding nails are absolutely unlike the long, sharp claws of the carnivora: nothing could be more dissimilar. But if we compare the hands and extremities of man with those of other frugivorous animals, there is a very close similarity between them. The reason for this is that man (like the apes) can and should go out into the open fields and forests and pick his food off the trees. The human hand is eminently adapted to this end and for this purpose; but is quite unadapted for any such purposes as the claws of the carnivora are adapted for. I may remark here, incidentally, that all carnivorous animals drink by lapping up the water or other liquid with their tongues; while man, and all vegetarian animals, drink by suction—by drawing up the fluid directly into the mouth. This is a very distinguishing characteristic, to which there are few if any exceptions. Needless to say, since man drinks by suction, he is eminently a vegetarian animal, and is quite distinct from the carnivora in this respect, as in all others.

The Alimentary Canal.—“One of the most interesting comparisons,” says Dr Kellogg,[5] “which has been made by comparative anatomists is the length of the alimentary canal. This is very short in the carnivora, and long in the herbivora. When compared to the length of the body of the different classes of animals, the proportion is found to be as follows:—In the carnivora, the alimentary canal is three times the length of the body; in the herbivora, as the sheep, thirty times the length of the body; in the monkey, twelve times; in the omnivora ten times; in man, as in the frugivora, twelve times. Here, as before, we see that anatomy places man strictly in the frugivorous class. Some writers have made the amusing blunder of making the proportionate length of the alimentary canal in man 1 to 6, instead of 1 to 12, by doubling the height through measuring him while standing erect. This measurement is evidently wrong, for it includes the length of the lower extremities, or hind legs, whereas in other animals the measurement is made from the tip of the nose to the end of the backbone. In omnivorous animals, the alimentary canal is shorter than in the apes and in man, thus affiliating this class more nearly with the carnivora than with the herbivora.

“A curious fact had recently been observed by Kuttner, as related by him in an article published in Virchow’s Archives. This author has made extensive anatomical researches respecting the lengths of the small intestine in different classes of persons. He finds that in the vegetarian peasants of Russia, the small intestine measures from twenty to twenty-seven feet in length, while among Germans, who use meat in various forms quite freely, the length of the small intestine varies between seventeen and nineteen feet. The author attributes the difference in these two classes of persons to the difference in diet. Of course differences of this sort must be the influence of the diet exerted through many generations. This observation would seem to suggest that the special anatomical characteristic of the carnivorous class of animals is due to the modifying influence of their diet, acting through thousands of years. If the length of the intestine in man may be shortened by the use of flesh, with other foods, for a few hundred years, more extensive modifications may easily result from the longer experience of animals that subsist upon an exclusively carnivorous diet.”[6]

The Stomach.—The position and form of the stomach are also of significance. In the carnivora, it is only a small roundish sack, exceedingly simple in structure; while in the vegetable feeders it is oblong, lies transversely across the abdomen, and is more or less complicated with ringlike convolutions—according to the nature of the food. This appears conspicuously in the primates, which include man, in the Rodentia, Edentata, Marsupials, and, above all, in the Ruminants. In the latter, it presents a series of from four to seven wide, adjoining and communicating sacks.

At a first superficial glance at the exteriors of the stomachs of the carnivora and that of man, we apparently perceive a far closer resemblance than between man’s stomach and that of a herbivorous animal. In one sense, there can be no question that there is a closer similarity; in another sense, it is not so. In man this organ is simple, but is divided into a cardiac and pyloric portion—thus occupying, as in many other anatomical respects, a middle line between the carnivorous and herbivorous mammalia. The inner surface of the stomach is covered with rugæ, or wrinkles, formed by the mucous membrane, which lines the whole intestinal canal, and which forms valvular folds; while in the carnivora the stomach is a simple globular sac, without these corrugations. As Dr Trall observed[7]:

“Some may imagine, at a first glance, a closer resemblance between the human stomach and the lion’s than between the human and that of the sheep. But when they are viewed in relation to their proper food, their closer resemblance will vanish at once. It should be particularly observed that, so far as mere bulk is concerned, there is a greater similarity between the food of frugivorous animals and carnivorous animals than between frugivorous and herbivorous. The digestion and assimilation of coarse herbage, as grass, leaves, etc., requires a more complicated digestive apparatus than grains, roots, etc., and these more so than flesh and blood. The structure of the stomach, therefore, in such cases, seems precisely adapted to the food we assume Nature intended for it.”[8]

The Liver.—Dr John Smith, in calling attention to the many distinctions between the bodily structure of man and that of the carnivora, pointed out the following differences among others:—

“In the carnivora and rodentia, which present the most complex form of liver among the mammalia, there are five distinct parts; a central or principal lobe, corresponding with the principal part of the liver in man; a right lateral lobe, with a lobular appendage, corresponding to the ‘lobulus Spigelii’ and the ‘lobus caudatus,’ and a small lobe or lobule on the left side. Through the whole animal series, however, the magnitude of the liver varies in inverse ratio to the lungs.

“In man, the liver is much less developed than the same organ in many other mammalia; and presents, as rudimentary indications, certain organs which are in other animals fully developed. Europeans, and the inhabitants of Northern climes, who partake more of animal food, have the liver much larger, and its secretions more copious, than the inhabitants of warm climates. Perhaps this, in some measure, depends upon the amount of non-azotised articles taken along with the flesh of animals, by which means the system is supplied with more carbon than is needed. So that the enlarged liver is attributable to gross living on mixed diet, rather than to an exclusively animal diet.”

This author also says elsewhere (p. 79):

“The temporal and masseter muscles, by which the motion of the lower jaw is effected, are of immense size in carnivorous animals. The temporal muscle occupies the whole side of the scull, and fills the space beneath the zygomatic arch, the span and spring of which are generally an index of the volume of this muscle; while the extent and strength of the arch indicate the development of the masseter muscle. On the contrary, the pterygoid muscles, which aid the lateral movement of the jaw, are extremely small. The zygoma is of great size and strength in the carnivora; consisting of a long process of the masseter bone, overlaid by the usual process of the temporal bone, which is equally strong. The arch extends not only backward but upward, by the bending down of the extremity; the line of anterior declination falling precisely on the centre of the carnassière tooth—the point in which the force of the jaws is concentrated, and where it is most required for cutting, tearing, and crushing their food. In ruminants, the zygomatic arch is short, and the temporal muscles are small; but the masseter muscle on each side extends beyond the arch, and is attached to the greater part of the side of the maxillary bone. The pterygoid fossa is ample, and its muscles are largely developed. The arch is small in man, the temporal muscles moderate, and the force of the jaws comparatively weak.”

The Placenta.—Let us now turn to another important distinction between the carnivorous and non-carnivorous animals. Of these, perhaps the most important is the character of the placenta—one of the most distinguishing marks or characteristics of any species of animal. This subject has been so well and ably summed up by Professor Schlickeysen, in his “Fruit and Bread” (pp. 48-57), that I cannot do better than quote the main portion of the argument, as stated by this learned and able author. He says:

“We now come to consider the peculiar structure, form and size of the placenta, as well as the exact method by which, through it, in different species of animals, the nourishment is effected. One of the most striking differences presented in placental animals relates to the method of union between the mother and the fœtus. There are two very distinct types of the placenta, and, according to Professor Huxley, no transitional forms between them are known to exist. These types are designated as follows:—

1. The non-deciduate placenta of the Herbivora.

2. The deciduate placenta, of which there are two kinds:

(a) The zonary deciduate placenta of the Carnivora.

(b) The discoidal deciduate placenta of the Frugivora.

“The deciduate placenta is a distinct structure, developed from the wall of the uterus, but separated from it at parturition, and constituting what is known as the ‘after birth’; of this the human placenta is regarded by Huxley as the most perfect example; while, of the non-deciduate placenta, that of the pig and horse are the typical representatives. The word ‘decidua’ signifies ‘that which is thrown off.’

“The Non-Deciduate Placenta.—This form is thus described by Professor Huxley: ‘No decidua is developed. The elevations and depressions of the unimpregnated uterus simply acquire a greater size and vascularity during pregnancy, and cohere closely to the chorionic villi, which do not become restricted to one spot, but are developed from all parts of the chorion, except at its poles, and remain persistent in the broad zone thus formed throughout fœtal life. The cohesion of the fœtal and maternal placentæ, however, is overcome by slight maceration; and at parturition the fœtal villi are simply drawn out, like fingers from a glove, no vascular substance of the mother being thrown off.’ To this class belong all the ruminants and Ungulata (hoofed quadrupeds); the camel, sheep, goat and deer; the ant-eater, armadillo, sloth, swine, tapir, rhinoceros, river-horse, sea-cow, whale, and others.

“The Zonary Deciduate Placenta.—A zonary placenta surrounds the chorion, in the form of a broad zone, leaving the poles free. This form characterises all the land and sea carnivora, and thus includes the cat, hyena, puma, leopard, tiger, lion, fox and wolf; the dog and bear, the seal, sea-otter and walrus. It includes, also, certain extinct species, as the mastadon and dinotherium, which, although not wholly carnivorous, were, to judge from their teeth, partially so. The elephant, the only living species of these ancient animals, is also of this class.

“The Discoidal Deciduate Placenta.—The discoidal placenta is a highly developed vascular structure, lying on one side of the fœtus, in the form of a round disc, leaving the greater part of the chorion free. It is thus united only on one side, at one circular point, with the mucous membrane of the uterus, from which, as already mentioned, it is separated at parturition. The orders of the animals characterised by this form of placenta are the rodentia, ant-eaters, bats, and various species of apes, and man. All these are very closely united by homologous anatomical forms. The human placenta does not differ, in its general character, from that of the others, and there is no good reason for separating man from his placental classification.”

Relations between placental forms and Individual Characteristics.—From our entire knowledge of the development of races and of individuals, we may conclude, upon the basis of Huxley’s classification, that an intimate relation exists between the form and character of the placenta and the entire nature of the individual. We find among the non-deciduata, besides the toothless sloths, only the Ungulata, or hoofed quadrupeds, and others developed from them. The arrangement of their teeth, as of their entire digestive apparatus, marks them as belonging to a single family—namely, the herbivora.

The zonary placenta characterises a very large family of animals whose peculiarities are distinctly marked, especially with regard to their teeth and digestive apparatus. These belong to the widely diffused and numerous orders of the carnivora. But the most interesting and important group, with reference to our present study, is that characterised by the discoidal placenta; for, since it includes man and the fruit-eating apes, it gives occasion for the comparison between these and other placental animals from the standpoint of dietetics.

We observe here at once that the majority of animals having a discoidal placenta subsist chiefly upon fruits and grains, and that the typical representatives of this class, namely, those whose plactental formation is most distinctly discoidal, are also the most exclusively frugivorous.

Here, as elsewhere in nature, an exact line cannot be drawn. Transitional forms exist everywhere, and to this the placenta is no exception. The most striking accordance, however, exists between the placenta of man and that of the tailless apes—namely, the gorilla, orang, chimpanzee and gibbon. Between other discoidal species, the differentiation, though minute, is clearly marked; but between man and these apes the resemblance is so exact as to stamp them plainly as members of the same family.

The completely developed placenta is in the form of a circular disc, about eight inches broad, one inch thick and weighing about two pounds. Its manner of development is identical in the human subject and that of the above-named anthropoid apes. Its exact formation is thus described by Huxley:

“From the commencement of gestation, the superficial substance of the mucous membrane of the human uterus undergoes a rapid growth and textural modification, becoming converted into the so-called decidua. While the ovum is yet small, this decidua is departable into three portions: The decidua vera, which lines the general cavity of the uterus; the decidua reflexa, which immediately invests the ovum; and the decidua serotina, a layer of especial thickness, developed in contiguity with those chorionic villi which persist and become converted into the fœtal placenta. The decidua reflexa may be regarded as an outgrowth of the decidua vera the decidua serotina as a special development of a part of the decidua vera. At first, the villi of the chorion are loosely implanted into corresponding impressions of the decidua; but, eventually, the chorionic part of the placenta becomes closely united with and bound to the uterine decidua, so that the fœtal and maternal structures form one inseparable mass.”

The fœtus thus united to the mother is nourished by means of numerous arterial and venous trunks, which traverse the deeper substance of the uterine mucous membrane, in the region of the placenta. These are connected with the placenta by means of the umbilical cord, which consists of two arteries and two veins. The length of this cord is greater in the case of man and the anthropoid apes than in any other animals, reaching in them a length of about two feet. The strict accordance which thus appears between the placental structure of man and the ape indicates, upon the basis of Huxley’s principles of classification, the same physiological functions and the same dietetic character. There exists a complete similarity between the corresponding organs in each: Their extremities end in hands and feet. Their teeth and digestive apparatus indicates a frugivorous diet. Their breasts and manner of nursing suggest the same tender care of the new-born creature; while the brain and mental capacity are also of a like character—differing only in degree; indeed, the difference between the ape and animals of the next lower grade is much greater than between the ape and man; there being in the latter case really no essential anatomical or physiological differences.

The fact that man has four cuspid teeth affords no evidence whatever that he is either partially or wholly carnivorous as regards his dietary. If in diet he is naturally omnivorous, his teeth should have the structure and arrangement of those of omnivorous animals—as exhibited in the hog, for example.

That the cuspid teeth do not indicate a flesh dietary, either in whole or in part, is shown by the presence of the so-called cuspids in purely herbivorous animals—as in the stag, the camel and the so-called “bridle-teeth” of the horse.

I am convinced that no animals were created to eat flesh, but that so-called carnivorous animals were originally nut-eating animals (see p. 55). The squirrel eats birds as well as nuts, which closely resemble meat in composition. This view readily explains the close resemblance in many particulars existing between the human digestive apparatus and that of the so-called carnivorous animals. It is reasonable to suppose that these nut-eating animals were at some remote time forced by starvation to slay, and eat, by the failure of their ordinary food supply—just as the horses of the Norwegian coast have been known to plunge into the sea and catch fish, when driven to this extremity by starvation. Suppose the carnivorous animal’s natural diet to be nuts, in the absence of his normal food he would find nothing else so closely resembling his ordinary food as the flesh of animals, since the two have about the same proteid percentages.

Dr Kellogg, in his excellent little book, entitled “Shall We Slay to Eat?” (pp. 30-32), sums up a number of remarkable facts in favour of a fruitarian diet, or at least in favour of a non-flesh diet, as follows:—