ould mot wish for anything better; but I doubt
very much whether the beasts of prey, such as tigers, hyenas, and
wolves, are content with the rules and the forcibly prescribed diet.
Jainas themselves turn with disgust even from eggs and fish, and, in
consequence, all the animals of which they have the care must turn
vegetarians. We were present when an old tiger, wounded by an English
bullet, was fed. Having sniffed at a kind of rice soup which was offered
to him, he lashed his tail, snarled, showing his yellow teeth, and with
a weak roar turned away from the food. What a look he cast askance upon
his keeper, who was meekly trying to persuade him to taste his nice
dinner! Only the strong bars of the cage saved the Jaina from a vigorous
protest on the part of this veteran of the forest. A hyena, with a
bleeding head and an ear half torn off, began by sitting in the trough
filled with this Spartan sauce, and then, without any further ceremony,
upset it, as if to show its utter contempt for the mess. The wolves
and the dogs raised such disconsolate howls that they attracted the
attention of two inseparable friends, an old elephant with a wooden
leg and a sore-eyed ox, the veritable Castor and Pollux of this
institution. In accordance with his noble nature, the first thought of
the elephant concerned his friend. He wound his trunk round the neck
of the ox, in token of protection, and both moaned dismally. Parrots,
storks, pigeons, flamingoes--the whole feathered tribe--revelled
in their breakfast. Monkeys were the first to answer the keeper's
invitation and greatly enjoyed themselves. Further on we were shown a
holy man, who was feeding insects with his own blood. He lay with his
eyes shut, and the scorching rays of the sun striking full upon his
naked body. He was literally covered with flies, mosquitoes, ants and
bugs.

"All these are our brothers," mildly observed the keeper, pointing to
the hundreds of animals and insects. "How can you Europeans kill and
even devour them?"

"What would you do," I asked, "if this snake were about to bite you? Is
it possible you would not kill it, if you had time?"

"Not for all the world. I should cautiously catch it, and then I should
carry it to some deserted place outside the town, and there set it
free."

"Nevertheless; suppose it bit you?"

"Then I should recite a mantram, and, if that produced no good result,
I should be fair to consider it as the finger of Fate, and quietly