"Did you ever kill a chicken?" asked Uncle Ike, as Quincy entered the
room and took a seat in the willow rocker Uncle Ike pointed out to him.

"No," replied Quincy, "but out in Chicago I saw live hogs killed,
bristles taken off, cut up, assorted according to kind and quality, and
hung up to cool off, in three minutes."

Uncle Ike responded vehemently, "Yes, I know, and it is a shame to the
American people that they allow such things."

"That may be true," said Quincy, "but even at that speed they cannot
kill and pack as fast as it is wanted."

"Yes," said Uncle Ike, "in the old days man feared God, and he treated
man and beast better for that reason. In these days man serves Mammon
and he will do anything to win his favor."

"Do you think it is true that men were better in the old days?" asked
Quincy.

"No," answered Uncle Ike, "I didn't say so. I said that in the old days
man was afraid to do these things; now if he has money he is afraid of
neither God, man, nor the devil. To speak frankly, that is why I am so
independent myself. I am sure of enough to support me as long as I live;
I owe no man anything, and I allow no man to owe me anything."

Quincy, changing the subject, inquired, "What is your method of killing
chickens?"