his life in their service, to cut him to pieces at last, and then to feed upon his flesh, and make shoes of his hide. Hence in the hortatory tracts, which they sometimes publish, they draw the figure of an ox, composed entirely of words or characters, which set forth the complaint of the cow kind, relative to their hard usage during life, and their still harder fate at death, concluding by assigning the lowest place in Pandemonium to the villanous beef-butchers, who mercilessly cut them up for gain.
Having no inclosed pastures, they cannot breed many sheep or goats, which, wandering over the corn fields and gardens, would destroy more than they are worth. It is only in hilly and barren regions where these animals are allowed to roam, and even there not beyond the shepherd's eye; hence in the more fertile and more populous parts of the country, mutton is scarce and seldom eaten. Instead of beef and mutton, however, the Chinese have recourse to dogs and cats, the flesh of which animals is equal in price to that of swine. In default of these, they have no objection to make a dish of rats and snakes; and cockroaches and other reptiles come in to be used either as food or medicine, by a people who are driven frequently to great straits for want of sustenance; animals that die of disease, and those already far gone in a state of decay, are when discovered eagerly devoured by a hungry peasantry in search of food. In short, the Chinese have the most unscrupulous stomachs imaginable; every thing animal from the hide to the entrails,—and almost every thing vegetable, from the leaves to the roots, is made available to the support of life; and even some parts of the
