My
limbs felt tired and sore from a hard day's toil. Beside me sat a thin,
haggard, sorrowful woman and several half-famished children piteously
crying for something to eat. Oh, what a dismal, melancholy feeling.
"What is it," mused I, observing my bony hands, crooked limbs and ragged
clothes, "that causes my inability to earn enough money to supply bread
for myself and family, after working fifteen hours a day, while
thousands of men in this land do not work at all and have luxuries to
waste? What unnatural law governs the world that starves myself and
family who work, and over-feeds the pet dog of the aristocrat, who
loafs? The Church teaches me that God rules the universe, and that in
order to please Him I must be contented with my lot. Can I believe this
unreasonable doctrine of the Church? Can I give thanks to such a god?"
Another change, and behold, I am clad in the garments of a hunter,
seated upon the back of a spirited horse and in mad pursuit of a fleet-
footed antelope. I raise my rifle and blaze away at the frightened
beast. There, I have hit the mark and brought him down at the first
shot, much to my delight. But lo, it is not dead yet; see how it pants
and struggles in desperation, as it tries to regain its feet. Now I am
right upon it, and quickly dismounting, I take hold of its horns, draw a
long keen knife from its sheath, and with a powerful stroke I almost
sever the victim's head from the body. And as the warm blood pours forth
in every direction and the last sign of life departs from its shivering
body, I view the work of destruction with the fiendish glee of a noble
sportsman.
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