We can mix sugar with anything we like, whether it had
sugar in it to begin with or otherwise; and by sweetening and flavouring
we can give a false palatableness to even the worst and most
indigestible rubbish, such as plaster-of-Paris, largely sold under the
name of sugared almonds to the ingenuous youth of two hemispheres. But
in untouched nature the test rarely or never fails. As long as fruits
are unripe and unfit for human food, they are green and sour; as soon as
they ripen they become soft and sweet, and usually acquire some bright
colour as a sort of advertisement of their edibility. In the main, bar
the accidents of civilisation, whatever is sweet is good to eat--nay
more, is meant to be eaten; it is only our own perverse folly that makes
us sometimes think all nice things bad for us, and all wholesome things
nasty. In a state of nature, the exact opposite is really the case. One
may observe, too, that children, who are literally young savages in more
senses than one, stand nearer to the primitive feeling in this respect
than grown-up people. They unaffectedly like sweets; adults, who have
grown more accustomed to the artificial meat diet, don't, as a rule,
care much for puddings, cakes, and made dishes. (May I venture
parenthetically to add, any appearance to the contrary notwithstanding,
that I am not a vegetarian, and that I am far from desiring to bring
down upon my devoted head the imprecation pronounced against the rash
person who would rob a poor man of his beer.
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