Boy. Good-by, sir.
WHAT ANIMALS ARE MADE FOR.
“Pray, papa,” said Sophia after she had been a long time teased with the flies that buzzed about her ears, and settled on her nose and forehead as she sat at work—“Pray, what were flies made for?”
“For some good, I dare say,” replied her papa.
Sop. But I think they do a great deal more harm than good, for I am sure they plague me sadly: and in the kitchen they are so troublesome, that the maids can hardly do their work for them.
Pa. Flies eat up many things that would otherwise corrupt and become loathsome; and they serve for food to birds, spiders, and many other animals.
Sop. But we could clean away everything that was offensive without their help; and as to their serving for food, I have seen whole heaps of them lying dead in a window, without seeming to have done good to anything.
Pa. Well, then. Suppose a fly capable of thinking; would he not be equally puzzled to find out what men were good for? “This great two-legged monster,” he might say, “instead of helping us to live, devours more food at a meal than would serve a whole legion of flies. Then he kills us by hundreds when we come within his reach, and I see him destroy and torment all other animals too. And when he dies he is nailed up in a box, and put a great way under ground, as if he grudged doing any more good after his death than when alive.” Now what would you answer to such a reasoning fly?
Sop. I would tell him he was very impertinent for talking so of his betters; for that he and all other creatures were made for the use of man, and not man for theirs.
Pa. But would you tell him true? You have just been saying that you could not find out of what use flies were to us: whereas, when they suck our blood, there is no doubt that we are of use to them.