tables, prepared in various ways.

"You eat no animal food, sir?" said I.

"I do not, sir," said he; "I have forsworn it upwards of twenty years. In
one respect, sir, I am a Brahmin. I abhor taking away life--the brutes
have as much right to live as ourselves."

"But," said I, "if the brutes were not killed, there would be such a
superabundance of them, that the land would be overrun with them."

"I do not think so, sir; few are killed in India, and yet there is plenty
of room."

"But," said I, "Nature intended that they should be destroyed, and the
brutes themselves prey upon one another, and it is well for themselves
and the world that they do so. What would be the state of things if
every insect, bird and worm were left to perish of old age?"

"We will change the subject," said the publisher; "I have never been a
friend to unprofitable discussions."

I looked at the publisher with some surprise, I had not been accustomed
to be spoken to so magisterially; his countenance was dressed in a
portentous frown, and his eye looked more sinister than ever; at that
moment he put me in mind of some of those despots of whom I had read in
the history of Morocco, whose word was law. He merely wants power,
thought I to myself, to be a regular Muley Mehemet; and then I sighed,
for I remembered how very much I was in the power of that man.

The dinner over, the publisher nodded to his wife, who departed, followed
by her daughter-in-law. The son looked as if he would willingly have
attended them; he, however, remained seated; and, a small decanter of
wine being placed on the table, the publisher filled two glasses, one of
which he handed to myself, and the other to his son, saying: "Suppose you
two drink to the success of the Review. I would join you," said he,
addressing himself to me, "but I drink no wine; if I am a Brahmin with
respect to meat, I am a Mahometan with respect to wine."

So the son and I drank success to the Review, and then the young man
asked me various questions; for example--how I liked London?--Whether I
did not think it a very fine place?--Whether I was at the play the night
before?--and whether I was in the park that afternoon? He seemed
preparing to ask me some more questions; but, receiving a furious look
from his father, he became silent, filled himself a glass of wine, drank
it off, looked at the table for about a minute, then got up, pushed back
his chair, made me a bow, and left the room.