GROWING OLD 



a keen sportsman. I enjoy it all and take the 

 persecution cheerfully, and when the end comes, I 

 meet it without flinching more than is absolutely 

 necessary for mere comfort. At least, I have a 

 kind of inner conviction that when my time comes 

 I shall not be found wanting. I believe that, if the 

 truth were known, I am more than a little proud 

 of the fact that I do not require man's protection, 

 like the pigs, and cows, and pheasants, and dogs, 

 and horses, and foxes. I am one of the few animals 

 that continue to exist, and to do more than exist — 

 to thrive and multiply and flourish in spite of man's 

 best efforts to exterminate me. Why, bless me ! 1 

 am not at all sure that, if I took half the trouble to 

 exterminate you which you take to wipe me off* the 

 face of the earth, you would not shortly cease to 

 adorn this planet with your aggressive presence. 

 Therefore, in a way, I am your master. Just 

 swallow and digest that fact, and surely I may 

 claim a good deal of credit for allowing you to go on 

 ruling the earth in the boastful and high-handed 

 way that seems to come so natural to you and to 

 all of your breed. 



That seems to be my defence in a nutshell, and I 

 do not consider it to be a very bad one either. I 

 wonder whether you could put as good a one on 



