Food, air, water, light, exercise, must be so provided that they condition the process of nutrition and metamorphosis.

Skin, lungs, kidneys, intestines, must always be in condition to eliminate the abnormal products of decomposition.

If then disease be a derangement of the life process, it is self-evident that disease is not confined to one organ alone, but that the whole body is diseased.

The body, thus, being in fact an indivisible unity, the treatment we employ in disease must, logically, act upon it as a united whole.

The modern school of medicine in its present, bacteria ridden frame of mind or mania, looks upon the bacillus, or microbe, as the sole cause of disease.

The cause, however, is not the bacillus, but rather the impure blood which prepares a fertile soil for the development of those destructive germs.

He who lives strictly in accordance with the rules of hygiene need not fear the bacillus, for man is not born to sickness; he creates sickness for himself by his irrational mode of living.

What does the world profit by bacteriological institutions if the people continue to live in the old sins against health and hygiene?

Man may be born with a predisposition to disease, but not with disease itself.

Our health depends entirely upon the conditions of our life.

In cases of predisposition to disease, therefore, as well as in disease itself, according to the principles of hygiene, we must employ only the hygienic and dietetic methods of treatment.

Is the medical science of the day, then, totally incompetent?  You may well ask.—­Have the patient studies and researches of nearly two thousand four hundred years, since the days of Hippocrates, been all in vain?

The reply lies ready to your hand, from the lips of one of the brightest scientific spirits that ever illumined this dull earth of ours with knowledge and sincerity.

In Goethe’s Faust the following lines are found,—­lines which sad memory brings back to the minds of many an unfortunate who, according to the dictates of the medical science of today, is pronounced incurable—­a sufferer from one or other of the so-called chronic diseases—­and in dire need of both physical and spiritual support.

  “I have, alas, philosophy,
  Medicine, jurisprudence too,
    And, to my cost, theology
    With ardent labour studied through,
    And here I stand with all my lore,
    Poor fool, no wiser than before”

Like Faust, such sufferers study day and night the opinions of learned doctors and follow their prescriptions with ardent zeal.  The more they study, the more doctors they consult, the more rapidly does strength fail them, until at length they realize that, in spite of all their lore, they are but “poor fools, no wiser than before.”

For more than two thousand years it has been, in fact, as it is to a great extent today; the physician prescribes to the best of his knowledge, medicines compounded according to certain rules dogmatically laid down in the schools.