One day a she-boar was caught in a trap, and, as a matter of course, was cooked and eaten, but soon after a litter, belonging to the victim, was found and the tiny beasts, only just born, were taken and nursed by the women of the village.
I once saw a big boar that followed a Sakai tribe with wonderful docility even allowing the children to play tricks upon it; it had been brought up by the women.
I have also seen rats, that have been reared by these foster-mothers, go backwards and forwards from the hut at their will, and I remember that one night when I had taken shelter in one of these cabins and had selected a particular corner for my night's rest, the dark lady of the house, without raising any objection to my choice, warned me that during the night a rat would return to repose in the same spot and begged me not to do any harm to the poor thing, as he was one of the family, but to call her if it gave me any disturbance.
In fact I was fast asleep when some warm fur softly caressed me, and waking up I understood that the dissolute rodent—almost bigger than a cat—had returned home in the small hours, just as if he had been provided with a latch-key.
I hastily called the woman who tenderly took it up and carried it away to sleep with her.
It was an adopted child!
Is not this the acme of maternal feeling? And does it not approach foolishness?
The birth, and subsequent suckling, of her first child put an end to the grace and bloom of a Sakai woman.