The sufferer himself realizes, in such cases, that there is no reason in
his fear--he knows he can undergo greater dangers with equanimity. Even
doubting folly finds no answer to the question why should this danger be
shunned and that accepted. The nearest approach to an answer is "I can't,"
which really means "I haven't."

The origin of the phobia is not always clear, but given the necessary
susceptibility, circumstances doubtless dictate the direction the phobia
shall take. A startling personal experience, or even reading or hearing of
such an experience may start the fear which the insistent thought finally
moulds into a fixed habit.

To the hypochondriac who concentrates his attention upon the digestive
tract, this part of his body occupies the foreground of all his thoughts.
He exaggerates its delicacy of structure and the serious consequences of
disturbing it even by an attack of indigestion. A patient to whom a certain
fruit was suggested said he could not eat it. Asked what the effect would
be, he answered that he did not know, he had not eaten any for twenty years
and dared not risk the experiment.

Extreme antipathies to various foods are fostered among this class. A lady
told me that she perfectly abominated cereals, that she could not stand
vegetables, that she could not bear anything in the shape of an apple, that
she could not abide spinach, and that baked beans made her sick at the
stomach.

The heart is perhaps the organ most often the object of solicitude on the
part of the hypochondriac. When we realize that the pulse may vary in the
healthy individual from 60 to over 100, according to circumstances, and