Among them, was a very young man, with a cold,
handsome face. He looked as if he was annoyed that the older man should
have made Miss Laura cry.
"Don't you think, sir," he said, as the old gentleman passed near him in
walking up and down the floor, "that there is a great deal of mock
sentiment about this business of taking care of the dumb creation? They
were made for us. They've got to suffer and be killed to supply our
wants. The cattle and sheep, and other animals would over-run the earth,
if we didn't kill them."
"Granted," said the old man, stopping right in front of him. "Granted,
young man, if you take out that word suffer. The Lord made the sheep,
and the cattle, and the pigs. They are his creatures just as much as we
are. We can kill them, but we've no right to make them suffer."
"But we can't help it, sir."
"Yes, we can, my young man. It's a possible thing to raise healthy
stock, treat it kindly, kill it mercifully, eat it decently. When men do
that I, for one, will cease to be a vegetarian. You're only a boy. You
haven't traveled as I have. I've been from one end of this country to
the other.
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