Adventure stories; California -- Fiction; Love stories; Mate selection -- Fiction; Widows -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
“Aren’t they funny!” she laughed. “I love pigs and things like that.
Cows and chickens and horses and everything. Do you know that I, as the
head of the expedition to be, intend to make a hard-and-fast ruling at
the very outset? It’s this: No one in the party will be permitted to
kill any living thing.”
“Why, that’s a funny idea,” he laughed. “If a fellow can’t do a little
hunting to pass away dull hours, how’s he going to amuse himself? And
it may be that we’ll frequently find ourselves in need of fresh meat.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t approve of the slaughter of the
innocents. I used to hunt myself, but I gave it up. I can’t bear to
take a life. Man can’t create, yet in the winking of an eyelid he can
and will destroy a life that he can never reproduce. It’s the same with
a tree. One can cut down a tree in thirty minutes which nature has
spent hundreds of years in growing. And man can’t replace it. Whenever
I hear one of these giant redwoods fall groaning under the ax my heart
fairly bleeds.”
“But man must live,” Andy pointed out.
“I don’t know whether he must or not,” she said seriously. “He’s made
a complete botch of existence. Sometimes I wish the entire race were
wiped out, so nature could begin all over again. Man is as barbarous
to-day as he was a thousand years ago. The only difference is that he
has invented new machinery with which to practise his barbarism.”
“Why, you’re a regular little cynic!” Andy accused.
“Perhaps. I have little patience with mankind, if that’s what you mean.
The so-called lower animals have my love and sympathy. They haven’t
made a farce of their lives, as we have. And vivisection--that’s what
makes me wild! Man, by his own selfish indulgences, by his reckless
living, his complete disregard of the laws of nature, has succeeded
in shortening his life and depleting his physical vigour. So, in his
eagerness to continue the debauch, scared stiff at thought of the
yawning precipice just ahead of him, he turns in his cowardly way
to the so-called lower animals. He robs these helpless creatures of
their health and vitality in order to patch up his poor, miserable,
worthless body. Like the five foolish virgins, men say to these wise
virgins--these innocents of the earth who have conserved their oil of
life--‘Give us of your oil, for our lamps are gone out.’ Could anything
be more cowardly, Mr. Jerome?”
“But aren’t the lower animals placed on this earth for the benefit of
man?” asked Andy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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