n me, and thrusting on me
nasty little acts of kindness. The Chief Pauper was more persistent
than all, with his chatter and his disgusting civilities. He was
evidently glad to get hold of a fresh subject for his talkative
genius; he was a very garrulous cannibal, and perhaps my being a
foreigner made me more interesting in his eyes.

The chief topic of his discourse was death. He hated life, loved
death, longed for it in all its forms, whether arising from disease
or from violence. He was an amateur in corpses, and had a larger
experience in dead bodies than any other man in the nation.

I could not help asking him once why he did not kill himself, and be
done with it.

"That," said he, "is not allowed. The temptation to kill one's self is
one of the strongest that human nature can experience, but it is one
that we must struggle against, of course, for it is against all law.
The greatest blessing must not be seized. It must be given by nature
or man. Those who violate the blessed mystery of death are infamous."

He assured me that he had all his life cultivated the loftiest
feelings of love to others. His greatest happiness consisted in doing
good to others, especially in killing them. The blessing of death,
being the greatest of all blessings, was the one which he loved best
to bestow upon others; and the more he loved his fellow-creatures
the more he wished to give them this blessing. "You," said he, "are
particularly dear to me, and I should rather give to you the blessing
of death than to any other human being. I love you, Atam-or, and I
long to kill you at this moment."

"You had better not try it," said I, grimly.

He shook his head despondingly.

"Oh no," said he; "it is against the law. I must not do it till the
time comes."

"Do you kill many?" I asked.

"It is my pleasing and glorious office," he replied, "to kill more
than any other; for, you must know, I am the Sar Tabakin" (chief of
the executioners).

The Chief Pauper's love of death had grown to be an all-absorbing
passion. He longed to give death to all. As with us there are certain
philanthropists who have a mania for doing good, so here the pauper
class had a mania for doing what they considered good in this way. The
Chief Pauper was a sort of Kosekin Howard or Peabody, and was regarded
by all with boundless reverence. To me, however, he was an object
of never-ending hate, abhorrence, and loathing; and, added to this,
was the thought tha