In all this matter, then, of the treatment of animals it comes to the definition of the words “unnecessary suffering.” And I say this: All suffering that is inflicted merely for our pleasure, distraction, and even for our convenience, and profit, as distinct from our preservation, is unnecessary and an abomination. And the fact that it is inflicted on creatures unable to raise hand to help themselves, or voice to tell us what they suffer, makes it ever the more abominable. Whether it be the destruction of mother-birds (with their whole families of nestlings) for the sake of the nuptial plumes to be worn in the hats and hair of human mothers, or the painful docking of the tails of horses, their sole weapon against the torment of stinging flies, for the sake of an ugly fashion; whether it be the treacherous sale of horses worn out in our service, the snaring of rabbits in needlessly cruel traps, the turning adrift of friendly but unwanted dogs and cats; whether it be the unnecessarily slow and painful slaughtering of animals for food, the wretched keeping in captivity of wild song-birds, the prisoning of eagles, hawks, and many another creature that cannot bear confinement, in zoos and other places; whether it be any of these, or this sometimes distressing and always unnatural training of performing animals, in all suffering is inflicted for our pleasure, distraction, convenience or profit, and all of it is unnecessary, all against the conscience of the age. To those who, tempted by the devil of irreflection, say “But this is the creed of sentiment and softness,” I return the answer, “Sirs, no man ever became a stoic, and acquired the virtues of fortitude and courage, by inflicting pain on others.” There is nothing in this new creed that prevents any one from inflicting on himself as much hardship, risk, and privation as he considers needful to inspire him with fortitude.