“You dare to lecture me,” said the Man, “me, the heir of all the ages, as the poet called me. Why, you nasty little animal, do you know that I have killed hundreds like you, and,” he added, with a sudden afflatus of pride, “thousands of other creatures, such as pheasants, to say nothing of deer and larger game? That has been my principal occupation since I was a boy. I may say that I have lived for sport; got very little else to show for my life, so to speak.” “Oh!” said the Hare, “have you? Well, if I were you, I shouldn’t boast about it just now. You see, we are still outside of those Gates. Who knows but that you will find every one of the living things you have amused yourself by slaughtering waiting for you within them, each praying for justice to its Maker and your own?” “My word!” said the Man, “what a horrible notion; it’s like a bad dream.” He reflected a little, then added, “Well, if they do, I’ve got my answer. I killed them for food; man must live. Millions of pheasants are sold to be eaten every year at a much smaller price than they cost to breed. What do you say to that, Mr. Hatter? Finishes him, I think.” “I’m not arguing,” I replied. “Ask the Hare.” “Yes, ask me, Man, and although you are repeating yourself, I’ll answer with another question, knowing that here you must tell the truth. Did you really rear us all for food? Was it for this that you kept your keepers, your running dogs and your hunting dogs, that you might kill poor defenceless beasts and birds to fill men’s stomachs? If this was so, I have nothing more to say. Indeed, if our deaths or sufferings at their hands really help men in any way, I have nothing more to say. I admit that you are higher and stronger than we are, and have a right to use us for your own advantage, or even to destroy us altogether if we harm you.” The Man pondered, then replied sullenly— “You know very well that it was not so. I did not rear up pheasants and hares merely to eat them or that others might eat them. Something forces me to tell you that it was in order that I might enjoy myself by showing my skill in shooting them, or to have the pleasure and exercise of hunting them to death. Still,” he added defiantly, “I who am a Christian man maintain that my religion perfectly justified me in doing all these things, and that no blame attaches to me on this account.” “Very good,” said the Hare, “now we have a clear issue. Friend Mahatma, when those Gates open presently what happens beyond them?” “I don’t know,” I answered, “I have never been there; at least not that I can remember.” “Still, friend Mahatma, is it not said that yonder lives some Power which judges righteously and declares what is true and what is false?” “I have heard so, Hare.”