None of your sending sheep to market with their legs tied together, and jammed in a cart, and sweating and suffering for me.

They've got to go standing comfortably on their legs, or go not at all.

And I'm going to know the butcher that kills my animals, that have been petted like children.

I said to Davidson, over there in Hoytville, 'If I thought you would herd my sheep and lambs and calves together, and take them one by one in sight of the rest, and stick your knife into them, or stun them, and have the others lowing, and bleating, and crying in their misery, this is the last consignment you would ever get from me.' "He said, 'Wood, I don't like my business, but on the word of an honest man, my butchering is done as well as it can be.

Come and see for yourself.' "He took me to his slaughter-house, and though I didn't stay long, I saw enough to convince me that he spoke the truth.