Twice A Day
She Was Allowed To Have It With Her And Suckle It, And She Was
A Very Happy Animal.
I was glad to think that there was at least one completely
happy cow in Devonshire.
After leaving the cowkeeper I had that feeling of revulsion
very strongly which all who know and love cows occasionally
experience at the very thought of beef. I was for the moment
more than tolerant of vegetarianism, and devoutly hoped that
for many days to come I should not be sickened with the sight
of a sirloin on some hateful board, cold, or smoking hot,
bleeding its red juices into the dish when gashed with a
knife, as if undergoing a second death. We do not eat
negroes, although their pigmented skins, flat feet, and woolly
heads proclaim them a different species; even monkey's flesh
is abhorrent to us, merely because we fancy that that creature
in its ugliness resembles some old men and some women and
children that we know. But the gentle large-brained social
cow that caresses our hands and faces with her rough blue
tongue, and is more like man's sister than any other non-human
being - the majestic, beautiful creature with the juno eyes,
sweeter of breath than the rosiest virgin - we slaughter and
feed on her flesh - monsters and cannibals that we are!
But though cannibals, it is very pleasant to find that many
cowmen love their cows. Walking one afternoon by a high
unkept hedge near Southampton Water, I heard loud shouts at
intervals issuing from a point some distance ahead, and on
arriving at the spot found an old man leaning idly over a
gate, apparently concerned about nothing.
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