182 THE TRIBES ON MY F 



panic of terrified fowls, and a most horrid roaring of 

 servants rushing from their rooms to the rescue. But by 

 this time the kite is sitting on her nest, parting the limbs 

 of the miserable chicken among the grape-mouthed little 

 harpies that are worth all the rest of the world to her. 



I do not make pets of fowls. As I have said, there is 

 not stuff in them for that. Still, quite apart from vulgar 

 uses, it is pleasant to have a large establishment of de- 

 pendants about you, looking to you for protection and 

 maintenance. It imparts a certain patriarchal, Abrahamic 

 magnificence to your conception of yourself. Modern 

 radicalism may affect to dispise mere externals, but I am 

 a disciple of Herr Teufelsdrockh. If life were stripped of 

 its clothes, who would have it ? 



