So far as mere existence is concerned, heat-forming food may be looked upon as the real fuel on which the lamp of life is sustained. But man, considered as a working being, cannot exist without _energy-forming_ food. All work, whether of the brain or of the limbs, involves the exhaustion of nervous and muscular matter; and unless the exhausted matter be renewed, the work must come to an end. The supply of heat-giving food may be compared to the supply of fuel for the fire of a steam-engine. By means of this supply the _fire_ is kept alive; but if the fire have nothing to work upon, its energies are wasted or used to the injury of the machine itself. The supply of water, and its continual use (in the form of steam) in the propulsion of the engine, are the processes corresponding to the continual exhaustion and renewal of the muscles and nerves of the human frame. And the comparison may be carried yet further. We see that in the case of the engine the amount of smoke, or rather of carbonic acid, thrown out by the blast-pipe is a measure of the vital energy (so to speak) within the engine; but the amount of work done by the engine is measured rather by the quantity of steam which is thrown out, because the elastic force of every particle of steam has been exerted in the propulsion of the engine before being thrown out through the blast-pipe. In a manner precisely corresponding to this, the amount of carbonic acid gas exhaled by a man is a measure of the rate at which mere existence is proceeding; but the amount of work, mental or muscular, which the man achieves, is measured by the amount of used-up brain-material and muscle-material which is daily thrown off by the body. I shall presently show in what way this amount is estimated. In the composition of the muscles there is a material called _fibrine_, and in the composition of the nerves there is a material called _albumen_. These are the substances[42] which are exhausted during mental and bodily labour, and which have to be renewed if we are to continue working with our head or with our hands. Nay more, life itself involves work; the heart, the lungs, the liver, each internal organ of the body, performs its share of work, just as a certain proportion of the power of a steam-engine is expended in merely moving the machinery which sets it in action. If the waste of material involved in this form of work is not compensated by a continual and sufficient supply of fibrine and albumen the result will be a gradual lowering of all the powers of the system, until some one or other gives way,—the heart ceases to beat, or the stomach to digest, or the liver to secrete bile,—and so death ensues.