e of my family have died of cancer. I am a vegetarian."

The strange old gentleman darted from his seat, and began to pace up and
down the room. I was very glad he had gone, for Miss Laura hated to hear
of cruelty of any kind, and her tears were dropping thick and fast on my
brown coat.

The gentleman had spoken very loudly, and every one in the room had
listened to what he said. Among them, was a very young man, with a cold,
handsome face. He looked as if he was annoyed that the older man should
have made Miss Laura cry.

"Don't you think, sir," he said, as the old gentleman passed near him in
walking up and down the floor, "that there is a great deal of mock
sentiment about this business of taking care of the dumb creation? They
were made for us. They've got to suffer and be killed to supply our
wants. The cattle and sheep, and other animals would over-run the earth,
if we didn't kill them."

"Granted," said the old man, stopping right in front of him. "Granted,
young man, if you take out that word suffer. The Lord made the sheep,
and the cattle, and the pigs. They are his creatures just as much as we
are. We can kill them, but we've no right to make them suffer."

"But we can't help it, sir."

"Yes, we can, my young man. It's a possible thing to raise healthy
stock, treat it kindly, kill it mercifully, eat it decently. When men do
that I, for one, will cease to be a vegetarian. You're only a boy. You
haven't traveled as I have. I've been from one end of this country to
the other. Up north, down south, and out west, I've seen sights that
made me shudder, and I tell you the Lord will punish this great American
nation if it doesn't change its treatment of the dumb animals committed
to its care."

The young man looked thoughtful, and did not reply. A very sweet faced
old lady sitting near him answered the old gentleman. I don't think I
have ever seen such a fine-looking old lady as she was. Her hair was
snowy white, and her face was deeply wrinkled, yet she was tall and
stately, and her expression was as pleasing as my dear Miss Laura's.

"I do not think we are a wicked nation," she said, softly. "We are a
younger nation than many of the nations of the earth, and I think that
many of our sins arise from ignorance and thoughtlessness."

"Yes, madame, yes, madame," said the fiery old gentleman, staring hard
at her. "I agree with you there."

She smiled very pleasantly at him and went on. "I, too, have been a
tr