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At a recent inquest upon the body of a woman who was alleged to have died as the result of taking certain drugs for an improper purpose, one of the witnesses described himself as “an analyst and manufacturing chemist,” but when asked by the coroner what qualifications he had, he replied : “I have no qualifications whatever. What I know I learned from my father, who was a well‐known ‘F.C.S.’” Comment on the “F.C.S.” is needless.

The institution of food and cookery exhibitions and the dissemination of practical knowledge with respect to cookery by means of lectures and demonstrations are excellent things in their way. But while it is important that better and more scientific attention should be generally given to the preparation of food for the table, it must be admitted to be at least equally important to insure that the food before it comes into the hands of the expert cook shall be free from adulteration, and as far as possible from impurity,—that it should be, in fact, of the quality expected. Protection up to a certain point and in certain directions is afforded to the consumer by penal enactments, and hitherto the general public have been disposed to believe that those enactments are in their nature and in their application such as to guarantee a fairly general supply of articles of tolerable quality. The adulteration laws, however, while absolutely necessary for the purpose of holding many forms of fraud in check, and particularly for keeping them within certain bounds, cannot afford any guarantees of superior, or even of good, quality. Except in rare instances, even those who control the supply of articles of food to large public and private establishments fail to take steps to assure themselves that the nature and quality of the goods supplied to them are what they are represented to be. The sophisticator and adulterator are always with us. The temptations to undersell and to misrepresent seem to be so strong that firms and individuals from whom far better things might reasonably be expected fall away from the right path with deplorable facility, and seek to save themselves, should they by chance be brought to book, by forms of quibbling and wriggling which are in themselves sufficient to show the moral rottenness which can be brought about by an insatiable lust for gain. There is, unfortunately, cheating to be met with at every turn, and it behoves at least those who control the purchase and the cooking of food on the large scale to do what they can to insure the supply to them of articles which have not been tampered with, and which are in all respects of proper quality, both by insisting on being furnished with sufficiently authoritative guarantees by the vendors, and by themselves causing the application of reasonably frequent scientific checks upon the quality of the goods.

In Table IV. are given the averages of the three samples of each cow's milk given morning and evening. The average fat for the three samples of the milk of cow A is 3.92; cow B, 3.26; and cow C, 3.24, and if these were all mixed together the average fat would be 3.45 for the morning milk. The average fat of the three samples taken from the cows A, B, and C in the afternoon is—A, 5.08; B, 3.08; and C, 3.54; and the average of the three milks is 3.85. In the same table are shown the first two samples of each cow's milk mixed together both morning and evening. By referring to Tables II. and III. under cow A it will be seen that the milk fat of the first and second samples is 2.30 and 3.67, and these added together are shown on Table IV. under cow A, and similarly with cow B and cow C night and morning. It will also be seen that the milk fat in the morning milk of cow A is 3.21; cow B, 2.49; and cow C, 2.15, and if these were mixed together the average fat would be 2.61. The average fat of two samples of milk taken from cow A in the afternoon is 4.50; cow B, 2.67; cow C, 2.12, and if mixed together the average fat is 3.08. It is interesting to note that if cow B was milked for six minutes in the morning, and the milk sold, the sample would be .51 deficient in fat, and the dairyman could honestly say that the milk was sold as it came from the cow. There is also a deficiency in the fat of the milk of cow C in the morning, and cows B and C in the afternoon.

The decision of the Wolverhampton Stipendiary in the case of “Skim‐milk Cheese” is, at any rate, clearly put. It is a trial case, and, like most trial cases, the reasons for the judgment have to be based upon first principles of common‐sense, occasionally aided, but more often complicated, by already existing laws, which apply more or less to the case under discussion. The weak point in this particular case is the law which has just come into force, in which cheese is defined as the substance “usually known as cheese” by the public and any others interested in cheese. This reliance upon the popular fancy reads almost like our Government's war policy and “the man in the street,” and is a shining example of a trustful belief in the average common‐sense. Unfortunately, the general public have no direct voice in a police court, and so the “usually known as cheese” phrase is translated according to the fancy and taste of the officials and defending solicitors who may happen to be concerned with any particular case. Not having the general public to consult, the officials in this case had a war of dictionaries which would have gladdened the heart of Dr. JOHNSON; and the outcome of much travail was the following definition: cheese is “ coagulated milk or curd pressed into a solid mass.” So far so good, but immediately a second definition question cropped up—namely, What is “milk?”—and it is at this point that the mistake occurred. There is no legal definition of new milk, but it has been decided, and is accepted without dispute, that the single word “milk” means an article of well‐recognised general properties, and which has a lower limit of composition below which it ceases to be correctly described by the one word “milk,” and has to be called “skim‐milk,” “separated milk,” “ milk and water,” or other distinguishing names. The lower limits of fat and solids‐not‐fat are recognised universally by reputable public analysts, but there has been no upper limit of fat fixed. Therefore, by the very definition quoted by the stipendiary, an article made from “skim‐milk” is not cheese, for “skim‐milk” is not “milk.” The argument that Stilton cheese is not cheese because there is too much fat would not hold, for there is no legal upper limit for fat; but if it did hold, it does not matter, for it can be, and is, sold as “Stilton” cheese, without any hardship to anyone. The last suggestion made by the stipendiary would, if carried out, afford some protection to the general public against their being cheated when they buy cheese. This suggestion is that the Board of Agriculture, who by the Act of 1899 have the legal power, should determine a lower limit of fat which can be present in cheese made from milk; but, as we have repeatedly pointed out, it is by the adoption of the Control system that such questions can alone be settled to the advantage of the producer of genuine articles and to that of the public.

One of the commonest excuses put forward in defence of the practice of treating milk, butter, meat, and other foods with ‘preservative’ drugs no longer possesses even the appearance of validity. Several of the large railway companies are adding refrigerator vans in considerable numbers to their rolling‐stock, and this fact should make it no longer possible for defendants to plead that the necessity of sending food‐products a long distance by rail involves the necessity of mixing preservative chemicals with them. Although the excuse referred to will not bear examination, it is a very specious one, and in those instances where evidence has not been brought forward to refute it, it has produced some effect on the minds of magistrates and others. It cannot be too often pointed out that such substances as boracic acid, salicylic acid, and formaldehyde are dangerous drugs, and that their unacknowledged presence in articles of food constitutes a serious danger to the public. Such substances are not foods, and are not natural constituents of any food. In most instances they are purposely introduced into food‐products to avoid the expense attending the proper production, preparation, and distribution of the food, or to conceal the inferior quality of an article by masking the signs of commencing decomposition or incipient putrefaction, and thus to enable a dishonest producer or vendor to palm off as fresh and wholesome an article which may be not only of bad quality, but absolutely dangerous to the consumer. The use of these substances, in any quantity whatsoever, and the sale of articles containing them, without the fullest and clearest disclosure of their presence, is as gross and as dangerous a form of adulteration as any which has at any time been exposed. In no single instance can it be shown that these drugs are, to quote the words of the Act of 1875, matters or ingredients “required for the preparation or production of a food as an article of commerce,” nor, of course, can it be contended that such substances are “extraneous matters with which the food is unavoidably mixed during the process of collection or preparation.” In reality, even under our inadequate and unsatisfactory adulteration laws, through which the proverbial coach‐and‐four can be so easily driven in so many directions, there ought to be no loophole of escape for the deliberate and dishonest drugger of foods. While the presence of preservative chemicals in any quantity whatever in articles of food constitutes adulteration, wherever the quantity is sufficient to allow the production of the specific “preservative” effect of the substance added, that fact alone is enough to make the food so drugged a food which must be regarded as injurious to the health of the consumer—in view of the inhibitory effect which, by its very nature, the antiseptic must produce on the process of digestion. To our knowledge the food market in this country is flooded with all sorts of inferior food‐products which are rarely dealt with under the Adulteration Acts, and which are loaded with so‐called preservatives. There will be no adequate protection for the public against the consumption of this injurious rubbish until the consumer sees the advantage of insisting upon an authoritative and permanent guarantee of quality with his goods, and until manufacturers of the better class at length find it to be a necessity for their continued prosperity that they should supply, apart entirely from their own statements, an independent and powerful guarantee of this kind.

With the beginning of the twentieth century, preventive medicine is entering upon a new era. We are now confronted by a set of problems which are different in many respects from the problems so successfully attacked by the great masters of preventive medicine of the last century, and which call for the application of different preventive measures. The objects which Edwin Chadwick, John Simon, and our other great forerunners of the last century, sought to attain, and which to a large extent they did attain, may, I think, not unfairly be described by the phrase “ civic cleanliness.” They sought to provide pure water supplies ; to remove refuse and filth from the vicinity of human beings by establishing improved systems of drainage and sewerage, and better methods of dust collection ; to provide open spaces and wider streets; to pave streets, yards, etc.; to raise the sanitary standard of building construction; to provide proper burial grounds ; to regulate offensive trades ; and to abate the smoke nuisance and the pollution of rivers. Of course we all know that they did very much more than this. Their work was too great and its effect too far‐reaching to be described by any single phrase. Still, I think it not unfair to say that, broadly speaking, we may regard the attainment of civic cleanliness as the great object of cur public health administration in the nineteenth century. It cannot be said that this object has been wholly attained. In a country whose capital is still supplied with something like filtered sewage as drinking water, it is obvious that there is much yet to be done to secure civic cleanliness. But the point is that any further progress in this direction must, or should, take place on the lines already laid down by our predecessors. Their methods of civic sanitation have stood the test of experience, and all that is wanted is a further development on existing lines. It is otherwise with the new problems that now press for solution. These are problems of a different nature, and demand new methods of treatment, although the principles underlying the methods will be found, probably, to be the same. Preventive medicine in the nineteenth century was chiefly occupied with problems of civic cleanliness ; in the twentieth century we are confronted with the problems of personal hygiene, and the three problems of this kind which appear to me to call most urgently for solution at the present time are: (1) The problem of infantile mortality; (2) The problem of school hygiene; (3) The problem of the milk supply.

The statements which have recently been made in various quarters to the effect that Danish butter is losing its hold on the English market, that its quality is deteriorating, and that the sale is falling off, are not a little astonishing in face of the very strong and direct evidence to the contrary furnished by the official records. As an example of the kind of assertions here alluded to may be instanced an opinion expressed by a correspondent of the British Food Journal, who, in a letter printed in the March number, stated that “My own opinion is that the Danes are steadily losing their good name for quality, owing to not using preservatives and to their new fad of pasteurising… .”

War is one of the worst characteristics of human nature. Wars over territory, religion, and governance were and are always present through history. War and tourism seem dissonant at first glance. However, the post effects of war enable its components, such as battlefields and artefacts, to become tourist attractions. People share the impetus to visit war attractions such as battlefields, military museums, cemeteries, memorials, and other war-related sites. There is a supply for this type of tourism in exchange for the demand. This type of tourism is referred to in the literature as battlefield tourism. The meaning and definition of battlefield tourism are the main aim of this chapter. What is battlefield tourism? What are the components of battlefield tourism? How can battlefield tourism be defined? These are the primary questions this study tries to address.