which is presumably attached to its food value.  It is no exaggeration to say that the vast majority of our people believe implicitly in the necessity for meat at their three daily mealy, and not only is this the case in the cooler parts of the year, but it is practised universally during the height of the summer, without being modified in the slightest degree.  Thus the student of ethnography is presented with the somewhat curious anomaly of a people living in a summer temperature of 70 degrees or 80 degrees in the shade, eating more meat than do the bulk of the inhabitants of Great Britain and Ireland (with their ice and snow) during their winter months.  It is one of the characteristics of the Anglo-Saxon race, however, this inability to appreciate the necessity of conforming to new climatic conditions in which their lot may be cast.  It will be the same, too, when the British restaurant-keeper begins business in Equatorial Africa.  For an absolute certainty his bill-of-fare for the delectation of the unfortunate colonist will consist of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, plum pudding, and the old familiar throng.  Whether mine host has to consult the taste of his client, or whether the latter has simply to accept what is proffered, is not absolutely decided; probably they are both imbued with a belief in the necessity of solid fare, regarding it as a solemn truth beyond all possibility of cavil.

This abuse of flesh food in a climate like Australia would be serious enough under any circumstances, but it is intensified and aggravated by the direct unoriginality in dealing with meat.  Is it not a fact that there is no attempt whatever made to break through the conventional chain of joints, roasted or boiled, and the inevitable grill or fry?  In how many houses does the breakfast ever consist of anything but the ubiquitous chops, steaks, or sausages? indeed, one might almost term them “the faith, hope, and charity” of domestic life.  I remember reading some little time ago that if a map of the world were made in which lands of utter darkness were coloured black like the coalfields in an atlas of physical geography, certain races would be signalised by their opaqueness.  If such a map were ever compiled, Australia would of necessity be characterised by blackness; such a blackness, indeed, that jet itself would be as snowy white beside it.  But why should this lamentable state of things be said of Australians, who claim to be progressive in their ideas and advanced in their views, usages, and customs?

In conjunction with this dietetic view of the matter, one of the objects I have in writing is to direct attention to the great neglect there is of vegetables, especially those of the more unknown varieties, as an agreeable, desirable, palatable, and salutary element in the Australian food life.  One need not be a vegetarian to properly appreciate the valuable properties of vegetables, and most people will fare better and feel the benefit of a modification of their customary