296 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
condescending like the cat; nor a flattering parasite 
like the dog. He views us from a totally different, 
a sort of democratic, standpoint as fellow-citizens 
and brothers, and takes it for granted, or grunted, 
that we understand his language, and without 
servility or insolence he has a natural, pleasant, 
camerados-all or hail-fellow-well-met air with us. 
It may come as a shock to some of my readers 
when I add that I like him, too, in the form of 
rashers on the breakfast-table; and this I say 
with a purpose on account of much wild and idle 
talk one hears on this question even from one’s 
dearest friends—the insincere horror expressed and 
denunciation of the revolting custom of eating our 
fellow-mortals. The other day a lady of my 
acquaintance told me that she went to call on 
some people who lived a good distance from her 
house, and was obliged to stay to luncheon. This 
consisted mainly of roast pork, and as if that was 
not enough, her host, when helping her, actually 
asked if she was fond of a dreadful thing called the 
crackling! 
It is a common pose; but it is also something 
more, since we find it mostly in persons who are 
frequently in bad health and are restricted to a low 
diet; naturally at such times vegetarianism appeals 
to them. As their health improves they think less 
of their fellow-mortals. <A _ little chicken broth is — 
found uplifting; then follows the inevitable sole, 
then calves’ brains, then a sweetbread, then a 
partridge, and so on, progressively, until they are 
