CHAPTER VI.. The Evils Which Are Occasioned by Modern Stables.

THE EVILS WHICH ARE OCCASIONED BY MODERN STABLES.

Those gentlemen who have deeply studied such subjects, assert that man is incapable of originating a single idea. Certainly an intelligent being would not have been required to originate anything if, when intending to confine an active animal, he had been expected to credit the joyous creature with the common attributes of life. It could have evinced no excessive servility if, before the building was raised for such a purpose, nature and her requirements had been, in some slight measure, considered.

It obviously is folly for mortal pride to contend against those ordinizations which govern the universe. However, in the case of exercising power over the horse, centuries of defeat and ages of loss seem incapable of causing mankind to relinquish a hopeless struggle. The strife has been going forward almost from the commencement of time; nevertheless, human beings, though always beaten, press onward to perpetuate the contest. They scorn to retreat, and will suffer rather than own a victor; they will not, to make an advantageous peace, desert a silly custom or discard an ancient usage. They can sustain punishment; they can endure chastisement; but, like land crabs, when once upon the march, they cannot deviate from the line which they have adopted. They can abuse the master, but they cannot listen to the instructor. “Nature,” men exclaim in chorus, “is very stubborn.” “Horse property,” respond another gang of culpables, “is particularly hazardous!”

All this noise, however, might at any moment be avoided, would the human race only stoop to employ a little reflection. Would man not fight quite so obstinately, but merely think over the cause of combat, he might possibly be a gainer in happiness as well as in pocket. Could he only condescend to admit the horse is a living creature, he would take a step toward his recognition of the truth, because a fact would have been acknowledged. This being granted, then let mortals, in their collective capacity, decide in what the lowest proof of life--mere animal existence--does prominently consist.

It does not require any vast expenditure of thought to discover that life is action; “to be,” is synonymous with “to do;” therefore it is a sheer necessity of existence that an animated being must be doing something. Such is the primary consequence of existence. Thus, to breathe and to move, imply one act; since, if the lungs cease to dilate, respiration immediately terminates, and, with it, animation comes to an end. Yet it remained for mortal perversity to rebuke the first principle of established philosophy, when stables were built in which a breathing animal was to be treated as it were an inanimate chattel.

Nature, like a kind mother, is to this day endeavoring to teach her wayward children a plain truth, which they may hourly behold enforced by visible examples. The willful brood appears to be in no hurry to learn. Man still treats the horse as though he honored the quadruped by enslaving it, and ennobled a life by conferring upon the animal the title of his servant. He acts as though, by such conduct, sufficient reason was exhibited why he should oblige the creature to resign its instincts and relinquish its desires.

The equine race, when in a wild state, are gregarious, or congregate in herds. Man captures such a quadruped and places it in a stable, built to enforce the extreme of solitary confinement. The plain is the natural abode of the herd; on their speed depends both their pleasure and their safety. Man ties the domesticated horse to a manger, and pays a groom to enforce absolute stagnation upon innate activity. The “panting steed” is the most timid of living beings. Man insists the charger is possessed of extraordinary courage; he declares it delights in the tumult of battle; and he esteems it a glorious achievement to brutally coerce the timorous sensibility. The mild-eyed horse is, perhaps, the most simple of all the breathing beauties which adorn a wondrous world. Man declares all of the gentle breed have dangerous propensities, and are most inherently vicious.

Before subjugation, the creature fed off the surface of the earth. Man builds a house specially designed for the captive, in which the corn is placed on a level with the chest, and the hay is stationed as high up as the head. The animal is gifted with affections; it longs to gratify their promptings; it yearns for something upon which its abundant love may gush forth,--a fellow-prisoner--a goat--a dog--a cat--a fowl; no matter what, so it be some living object on which may be lavished that excess of tenderness which, confined to its own breast, renders being miserable. Man esteems it his primary duty to clear the stable of all possible companionship; but the creature which would rejoice, were it only permitted to worship its enslaver, he rarely approaches without a loud voice, a harsh word, or a harsher blow announcing his presence to the captive.

The inhabitant of such a prison, a domesticated horse miserably drags through a shortened life, under human protection. The nearest approach it can make to freedom is its period of exhausting labor. It always rejoices to quit its confinement; but, enfeebled by imprisonment, and subservient to man’s exactions, it ever gladly returns to the place of its sorrow. In proportion as its limbs are finely made and its actions are graceful is it prized. It is never esteemed for its instincts or credited with intelligence. It lives in so limited a space that, in comparison with the dimensions of its abode, a man in a sentry-box dwells in a mansion; or a lion in a cage roams over a domain. A reasonable and an intelligent being commands his horse should be fastened to such a spot, and supposes that a living organism is to endure the confinement which does not permit the body to turn round; that animated functions are to exist where most ordinary exercises are rendered impossible: nevertheless, he anticipates the creature will appear bounding with health in answer to his requirements.

To be sure, the prisoner, although its head be fastened, (a restraint not imposed upon the most savage of carnivorous beasts,) is permitted now to bear upon one leg, and then to change it for the other. It may perhaps lie down or stand up, without provoking chastisement. Neither head nor tail are forbid a proper degree of motion. But at this point all indulgence is exhausted. It is tied to a rope two yards in length; but it may not go even to the extent of its tether; neither may it move close up to the manger; both acts are equally unpardonable: a properly behaved animal should stand quietly in the center of its compartment, and always remain there when not lying down.

It is beaten if its head be raised just to peep over the paling, to exchange a rub of the nose and to give, as well as accept, a warm stream of fragrant breath to and from its nearest fellow-misery. It must taste the full flavor of its captivity: no trivial act may distract attention from the horror of its position. It must lie down where it stands; and stand where it laid down. It must not display the grace and ease of motion with which it has been endowed; nor must it indulge the kindly feelings Providence has gifted it with. To exert the faculties which the All-wise has planted in a beautiful body, man regards as evidence of its vicious disposition; though it has yet to be demonstrated that nature ever bestows any quality without an intention that the gift should be actively employed.

The feelings of the master are more than sympathized in by the groom. A servant’s pride always induces him to exaggerate both the virtues and the vices of his employer. What in the superior is a mere anticipation, which gratifies when it becomes realized, in the bosom of the dependent swells to a positive demand, compliance with which it is noble, at every hazard, to insist upon. The man, therefore, permits the cat to pur; but among the horses he is resolved to enforce the extreme of quietude.

The menial does not inquire whether an exquisite adaptation of sight, so as to inspect the minutest particle and to view the most distant object; whether a sensibility of hearing, to which movements are audible, when to the duller perceptions of the proprietor no sound vibrates on the air; whether a keenness of scent which can appreciate qualities in substances that to human sense are devoid of odor; or whether that fleetness of motion, which the Creator permitted as a protection, the ease of which machinery, when urged over common roads, has failed to rival,--the servant does not inquire whether such attributes were given by nature only to be fastened by the head, or to be confined within a space in which absolute stagnation must ultimately induce bodily incapacity. For nature’s intentions the groom cares nothing. “He has his doty to discharge and he will do it! Master wishes the osses to be kept quiet on a arternoon; and he’s the chap as will see the guv’nor is not disappointed!”

Such a doom can alone be varied by the hours of labor and the periods of feeding. To the animal thus surrounded, recreation is impossible, and its lodging is so small that bodily ease is unattainable. Yet the horse is kept for the use of its limbs; those who have observed the quadruped canter round the field into which it has been newly loosed, know that enjoyment is not incompatible with its existence. No pleasure, however, can be permitted within the stable. There, the slightest rustle or the gentlest indication of motion is jealously noted. Most equestrians like their quadrupeds to be still after feeding; because perfect quietude is supposed to promote digestion and to encourage thrift among the horses. The groom loves silence, because, to his mind, it is so nice and so respectable. Besides, when no sound disturbs the monotony of the building, the groom can luxuriate in the sense of absolute idleness--a feeling which most servants recognize and enjoy. If any sound interferes with the afternoon’s luxury, a harsh and taunting shout rebukes the inconsiderate disturber. “Now! Then! There! What ails you?”

The dreaded accents of the tyrant’s voice may, for a space, banish the oppression of captivity. The animals, under the influence of newly awakened terror, may be enabled to shrink into absolute silence; but, as the fear fades, the full reality of their position cannot otherwise than be felt in all its horrors. Fed upon stimulating food, how their spirits must languish, and how poignantly the aching limbs must suggest those pleasures there is no prospect of the prisoners ever again enjoying! Every little incident is seized upon with an eagerness which attests the prevalence of utter despair. Should a visitor enter the building, every head is raised and every eye is turned toward the welcome intruder.

The universal bustle which follows his appearance bespeaks how the lucky arrival has allowed the limbs to be stretched and the positions to be altered. For a moment or two, the straw is in audible commotion, while the sinkers, or blocks fastening the collar reins, may knock against the mangers, and the noise elicits no angry remonstrance.

But as joy hailed his appearance, so does the dullness deepen on the stranger’s departure. From that moment, any relaxation becomes a fault. All pastime is unlawful; the most innocent amusement must be practiced silently and in secret. Certain animals, however, try to get through the long hours of enforced idleness by quietly nibbling at the topmost rail of the manger. Large portions of tough wood are often removed after this fashion; and to him who can rightly interpret signs, a thick post bitten away, fiber by fiber, will present melancholy evidence of that longing for employment which could induce so great a waste of perseverance; for animals are naturally great economists of labor.

Other prisoners will endeavor to cheat the time by licking their mangers, apparently in the hope that some stray grain of corn may have escaped previous attention. The soft tongue of the horse, passed over the hardened surface of the wood, occasions no noise. Often a few grains will have lodged in the corners; then the effort to displace these affords a long game. Others, from want of something to do, or from finding impure air and inactivity do not, in accordance with the general doctrine, promote equine digestion, learn “to crib;” a few, from the operation of the like causes, become perfect as “wind suckers.” All “speed the weary hours” as they best can; and many heads are turned round to discover if it be feeding time again; not that they are hungry, but eating is an occupation, and they sadly wish for some employment.

Certain quadrupeds, under these circumstances, adopt a habit, which is the more remarkable because hours of tedium have generated the like indulgence in human beings. Mortals, when compelled to remain stationary, and forced to preserve silence, often strive to kill time by rocking to and fro, or by “see-sawing” their bodies. Such a pitiable excuse for amusement is very common among the little people whose undeveloped limbs are perched on high forms, and in whose hands are fixed very uninteresting primers, from which the infant mind wanders into vacuity during the hours of imprisonment which occur in those abominations termed “Preparatory Schools.” The horse, also, when forbidden the pleasures in which nature formed it to delight, will move its head methodically from one side of its stall to the other, and will continue thus engaged for hours together.

So exciting a pastime, most sane people might deem to be harmless enough. It interferes with nobody; if it can amuse the solitude of the creature, it should certainly excite no person besides. But in the arbitrary notions of rectitude entertained within the stable, such a very simple custom is punished as a positive “vice.” A horse which “see-saws” is said “to weave,” and “weaving” is, by grooms, esteemed highly culpable. What the poor animal is “weaving,” no one can point out; but, supposing an idle time to be so creditably employed, “weaving,” though not a highly remunerative occupation, nevertheless does not usually entail penal severity upon the offender. But grooms act upon their own convictions, and disregard the general morals of mankind. When a monotonous sound, however gentle, but long continued and regularly repeated, falls upon the ear of watchful ignorance, the awful fact that one of the imprisoned is endeavoring to cheat its misery, causes the lash to be grasped; the smart of a well-directed thong cuts short the melancholy recreation, to inform the captive that its keeper is determined the fullest flavor and the most distant relish of the situation shall be silently appreciated.

The imagination cannot picture a harder fate! Man, under such a doom, would be relieved by insanity. The horse has few pleasures; but nature makes all life suffer acutely when forced to continue inactive. The creature cannot seek occupation in what young ladies term accomplishments. It has no power to consume its existence in silent study. Like all animal vitality, its delight is to do, and that is the very thing which the groom insists it shall not perform. It can taste no other kind of pleasure. All created beings have some sphere of enjoyment. Activity constitutes that of the equine race; but to prevent an innocent creature knowing the only happy sensation of which its nature is capable, the animal is placed in a compartment; tied up to a manger; while, behind, there sits a man who is specially engaged to chastise the smallest infraction of the prevailing silence of the prison-house.

It remained for human perversity to conceive a life without a pastime, and vexatiously to impose this terrible fate upon the creature whose existence is devoted to man’s service. When in the field, the horse is never idle. The only amusement of the simple animal lies in its perpetual occupation. What a despairing sorrow must therefore afflict such an existence, when dragging through its time under the fostering care of the enslaver! Yet how proudly do some intellectual beings boast of their stables and of the ceaseless attention lavished on their studs! What is it this assiduity realizes to the creature on which it is expended? Stagnation to the active, and solitude to the gregarious. Movement draws down punishment, as it were a fault. Any attempt to while away the tedious hours is esteemed “a vice;” sensation must be checked, and feeling, man insists, shall be suppressed. But who, among the millions of intellectual masters, sufficiently understands the quadruped over which they all usurp authority, to regard the huge bulk of that endurance as the embodiment of the acutest form of every possible earthly misery?

To ascertain how far the foregoing remarks are founded upon reason, let it be supposed that man and horse were to change places, though the two animals, not being alike on the score of comprehension, no trial could be exactly equitable. Restlessness of spirit is the invariable attendant upon weakness of intellect. The advantage must, therefore, preponderate upon that side where intelligence might lose a sense of self in the excitement of thought, or where reflection could be amused by passing observation. But, granting all advantages to the human being, be it imagined that, for a single week, man inhabited a stall; shut in from all society; standing on one spot by day, and lying there by night; having the same food and the water brought to him at regular intervals; being obliged to make his meals without turning round; but, all the while, with his nose fastened close to a blank, white wall. After one single week of such probation, what does the reader conjecture would be the report delivered by the groom, who sat behind with the whip, ready to enforce silence? In what respect, does imagination picture, would be the distinction between man and horse?

Stable propriety conceives that the dumb inhabitant of such a building is fitly occupied when gazing upon the whitened interior of its prison. It is barely possible that stable-men may think this a most engrossing amusement; but there evidently exist horses which are so naturally perverse as to imagine that sight was, by an all-wise Creator, bestowed for a more active purpose than to merely look at vacancy when at home, and to be blinded by blinkers when abroad. These are, generally, the new-comers. Colts, not thoroughly broken in, or quite inured to the customs of civilized equine existence, are such wayward creatures! In their inexperience, they are too impatient; the first taste of captivity is apt to generate in them a desire to look around, or to gaze on the fellow-beings about them.

Inspired by a feeling of dissatisfaction with the boards which human care has placed on either side of their compartment, these youngsters are likely to gratify the promptings of the moment, by rearing up and by lodging the forefeet within the manger. Their heads are thus raised above the limit of their partitions. Where the corn is commonly thrown, the front hoofs now repose; and, as a consequence, the view instantly becomes more extended. The scene is novel; the exalted quadruped can exchange glances with its companions. The prospect is pleasing, and the sensation it awakens is decidedly gratifying. But, unhappy creature! While its eyes drink in delight, it cannot perceive the angered visage of the groom; nor can it even think of his existence, till the smart of a well-placed lash recalls the sufferer back to the hopelessness of that solitude, under submission to which it can alone hope to escape from positive torture.

This grave offense, like too many human failings, is engendered by idleness. The offending animal was without occupation. Its spirit was sick with inactivity. Therefore, in despair, it indulged that forbidden gratification which most men in their own persons do not view as meriting severe corporal punishment, or find to be a very stimulative amusement, when, to kill time on a rainy day, they glance out of the windows of their apartments. The equine sin was, however, of no greater magnitude; if it could, with strict justice, be said to attain to such lofty dimensions. The culpability, nevertheless, lay in an animal acting as though it had a right to use its own life for its selfish enjoyment. A horse obviously is the property of its master. The title to such property is absolute. The creature, consequently, has no right to act on its own authority; and to do this, regardless of the peril incurred, is positively contemplative dishonesty, which merited the heaviest possible visitation!

The altitude assumed, certainly, was not altogether safe. Mangers are built to merely uphold grain and chaff. Carpenters, in their collective capacity, are a knowing set, and are notorious for manufacturing articles of a strength merely proportioned to their uses. A heavy weight resting on fragile boards might have broken or have displaced some of them. In such a case, the animal having fallen through the opening, probably would, in its fright, have fractured a limb. The inside of its manger, assuredly, did not offer a secure foundation for a steed to stand upon; but, when tracing causes, we are bound to inquire, who or what provoked the act? The chastisement, it is true, has, according to this world’s custom, been inflicted upon the weaker and the more simple; but consummation of such an act cannot establish the justice of the usage.

The circumstances of the case presuppose something condemnatory on the part of the horse, the contemplation of whose conduct could excite such indignation in the groom. This fact is further supported by that surprise which mingled with the anger of the man. Even his habitual lassitude was conquered, through the energy aroused by the spectacle of such enormity! His bile boiled; his voice grew indistinct with passion; would excitement have permitted clearness of speech, oaths might have been overheard; the cat was thrown aside without the smallest show of ceremony; the servant leaped to his feet; with evident determination he seized the whip and essayed to punish the offense.

Discarding inferential evidence, and looking at the case for positive testimony, it may be well, before we engage in such an inquiry, to determine whether the horse has done wrongly, and whether the servant has acted rightly--the conduct of each being temperately reviewed. The quadruped, standing in the manger, and being naturally a timid creature, the sight of a whip and the smart of its application might cause the terrified life to perform several very energetic and eccentric movements. If the animal’s fault laid in its mounting on so frail a platform, that, certainly, was a reason which should not have excited the groom to chastisement during the perilous position. Fear often banishes caution, and the exhibition ground of the contention, then, being specially limited, any alarm was calculated to provoke the danger which it was the office, and doubtless the intention, of the groom to dispel. During the struggles caused by sudden fright, hair is often removed and sores established. A horse, surprised by terror, has engendered fearful blemishes; troublesome wounds have been produced, and prominences of bone have been fractured by the wild efforts of timidity, when excited by horror. The horse had no business to stand in the manger; but, being a non-reasoning animal, we may overlook that transgression. The man, however, being an intellectual agent, did very wrong in flogging the steed while the quadruped retained its perilous position.

To beat a horse, admits of justification by appealing to custom; but to flog a horse when tied to a manger and confined to a stall, is certainly gratifying the human passion at the risk of injury to that property which every owner is supposed to possess in the perfect condition of his animal. Now man, being blessed with power to think, violated his duty when he indulged his own instincts at the hazard of harm to his employer, or when he chastised the colt for braving the possibility of injury; since, by so doing, he was guilty of defying the probability of damage, and therefore stands convicted of a worse fault than that for which he punished his charge.

Let us now endeavor to ascertain the real extent of that misdeed the contemplation of which provoked an amount of anger sufficient to banish prudence from among the virtues of a reasonable being. The colt is, in the first place, located and fastened within the stable. The fact certifies to no choice having been exercised on the part of the culprit; therefore it is blameless, so far as being inside a building might imply an error. It was fastened within a defined and an arbitrarily limited department. The animal, however, did not plan the edifice, erect the partitions, or halter its own head to one of the mangers; consequently, so far it must be esteemed guiltless. But the creature, being there, leaped into a receptacle intended for food, and placed before it, thus obtaining a power of seeing around it.

The last act argues discontent, and discontent has never been ranged with amiable qualities. Still, it is not commendable to be contented, when we possess ability to improve our situation. Eyes certainly are natural gifts; their presence supposes a divine permission that sight should be exercised, since the wish to use them is an innate impulse. Man himself often endures much inconvenience and pays large sums, simply to gratify his eyes with the momentary spectacle of some gorgeous procession. The act, which has never been accused as a crime in the lords of the creation, should not, therefore, be esteemed unpardonable when exemplified by an animal which is occupying an inappropriate position.

Next, let us ask, what excuse can be urged to extenuate a deed which has already been shown to be less than a fault, and to be far removed from the category of crime? The horse is formed by nature with a love of action. In a modern stable it is tied by the head, while the stall partitions are of sufficient height to isolate its misery. The poor quadruped may have stood where it stands for several consecutive hours. The manger is fixed directly before it; the receptacle has been empty some time; the thing is clearly not wanted now to hold food: yet, there the open box remains. The head is tied to it; the animal cannot escape from looking on and into it; till speculation, which concern the possible intention implied by the fixature of the article, takes absolute possession of the equine mind.

At last a bright idea descends; the manger is thought to be placed where it is, as an easy step for the animal’s feet to rest upon. The wood-work is situated at a convenient distance from the ground. Man could not have supposed the horse wanted victuals lifted to its mouth, when every field exhibits one of the tribe lowering its head to gather herbage from the earth? Such a notion is ridiculous! The corn must be cast into the manger, simply because the thing is ready to receive it; but its real purpose has only been recently discovered. A slight but pleasing effort raises the forefeet on to the imaginary platform. The creature is delighted with its elevated position, for the view from it is agreeably extended. Assuredly, to discover a new use for an old article, merits esteem; and blame, if any blame be called for, should light on him who has imprudently placed temptation before an idle spirit, believing animal nature to be too passive for any temptation to affect it. Man, therefore, was disappointed by the quadruped proving more intelligent than he bargained for. The exhibition of intelligence should form no excuse for chastisement, though disappointment is too apt to expend its rage in blows.

There remains, however, to decide whether the act on the horse’s part, not being a fault, may be justly esteemed to be a virtue. A dull, phlegmatic beast had slept away the time “between the feedings;” had been content, so no exertion had been demanded. All men abhor what, in stable phraseology, is termed “a slug.” It certainly is meritorious to seize every opportunity of displaying that sort of temper which our superiors desire should be presented. All horse owners love a gay, lively, spirited nag. Leaping into the manger was a proof of animation. The act may have violated stable propriety; but the simple nature of the quadruped could not comprehend those regulations which man is incapable of communicating to the equine understanding; therefore the rules of the place were nothing to the captive. The culpability should rest upon him who planned a building with fixtures capable of being readily perverted. Leaping into the manger was certainly commendable, so far as it testified to intelligence, intrepidity, and liveliness. The blame must reside with him who doomed a gregarious creature to solitary existence, and fixed before the prisoner a feeding trough, certainly at an inviting altitude.

There is another supposed “vice” which animals doomed to lengthened and solitary confinement occasionally exemplify. Some gentlemen own several horses. Those parties possess ranges of stables, and every stall is occupied. When a person has a stud at his command, he is apt to conceive a dislike for riding. Days, and even weeks, may pass without the saddle or the carriage being ordered for the master’s gratification. During such a period, the grooms are supposed to give the animals a healthful amount of exercise.

But when superiors neglect their duty, inferiors will probably follow the example. A powerful propensity to imitate is one of the human peculiarities; the truth of this observation is far more vigorously illustrated in the stable than in the mansion. Much time may have gone by since some of the horses sniffed the breeze or looked upon the face of heaven; let the period be still further extended, and the grooms will not complain. The quadrupeds may continue idle, and gorge until their livers burst with disease; but their custodians can never tire of too little employment. When an establishment is thus managed, the grooms do not generally rise till the hour for morning exercise has passed; if a stray thought of the captives should trouble their consciences, the qualm is always quieted with, “Oh! let the poor devils enjoy a long rest.”

Breach of one obligation, like the falling of a first brick, is seldom a solitary mishap. The stable attendant, not being kept strictly to his work, grows to regard his own likings more than to consider his master’s orders. These people are always pleased with the exhibition of fat. The proprietor may talk about condition; but the servant knows his master’s favorite hunter should carry a “little” fat. It looks so gentlemanly to see a horse that is well fed. Every groom has a rare, secret nostrum which will load any animal with fat in a week. He will spend his perquisites to purchase this mysterious powder, a spoonful of which, given in a mash, at night, acts like a charm. At the same time, he serves out the oats and beans pretty generously. He fills the rack, heaps the manger, gives a dose of his secret mixture, and then, slapping the horse under the flank, exclaims, “There, old boy! I think you may enjoy yourself now!”

We are told an alderman was once solicited for halfpence by a crossing-sweeper, because the man was “so hungry.” The city magnate paused, looked at his petitioner, and, with feeling, exclaimed, “Lucky dog! I wish I was also hungry.” The horse, wanting exercise, stares at the provender, but has no appetite. The food piled up before it is, to the animal, no other than “matter out of place.” Desire is needed to give value to such abundance; and a non-reasoning being cannot be expected to prize that which it does not require. It cannot eat, but it lacks amusement. The hay is before it. In sheer idleness, a few stalks are pulled from the rack. Of these, one may be leisurely masticated; but the remainder, after having been twisted about by the lips, are allowed to fall upon the litter. The sport is followed up until the rack is emptied; and the creature is a little happier, under a conviction that it has escaped from absolute stagnation.

Yet, when we consider the heap of “prime upland” which has been spoiled, the subject cannot be allowed to pass without one word of inquiry. Who or what is to blame, when so much fodder is wasted? No animal will prize food after its cravings are appeased. Fowls, having eaten, trample the superabundant barley under foot; dogs will sleep beside, or bury, a half-gnawed bone; nay, man himself, subsequent to a good dinner, nauseates the greasy smell from the kitchen, and abhors the sight of a reeking joint; school-boys form bread seals out of their breakfast superfluity; and domesticated gentlemen, located at the bottom of the table, have, when dinner was finished, been frequently known to amuse their fingers by making crumbs upon the cloth. Then the act of wasting victuals, after satiety has been achieved, being, with various beings, all but universal, the deed cannot be urged as a heavy accusation against a simple animal.

Yet the scattered hay having been observed by the master, the groom then severely punishes the wasteful quadruped. In that case, however, it is the master’s observation, which the animal could not possibly prevent, that drew down its chastisement; the blows can establish no fault on the part of the horse. Its stomach being crammed, the creature could eat no more. The hay, however, was converted to some use. It was made to lighten the heavy hours of captivity. Such a purpose may not have fulfilled the proprietor’s intention; but it was the only service the captive could put it to. The sin, if there be any sin, certainly must remain with him who piled up provender before an animal which was without an appetite. Waste was indulged when fodder was thus misappropriated; and the horse endured punishment from the hand of the individual who, had strict justice been administered, should have received the lashes on his own person.

Simple natures, when entirely disengaged, generally make their own employment, and that employment, being intended for a passing amusement, commonly consists of what thrifty people designate “mischief.” The knowledge that displeasure will follow upon discovery, may spice the proceeding which otherwise might want interest. At all events, so it is with children; and it may be thus with animals. When a heaped manger is before a satiated quadruped, the impossibility of feeding makes the creature meditate upon the uses to which the grain can possibly be applied. None can be discovered. The head of the captive is tied, and the manger is fixed. At length, in carelessness of spirit, a mouthful is taken from the heap. The portion cannot be swallowed, so the lips are moved, and, as they part, the corn falls over them upon the ground. This may not be a very exciting recreation; but the prisoner is restless with repletion. It cannot sleep; and the grain passing over the lips, in which equine feeling concentrates, produces a slight and a novel sensation.

Can any man seriously pronounce that an animal, standing in enforced solitude and compulsory idleness, is to blame for such conduct? Boys, during their school days, when wanting appetite, or having unnecessary food before them, will not they, in satiety, play with needless abundance? Are men to demand that prudence from an animal which we should certainly not anticipate in the young of our own species? Yet the child enjoys a certain amount of confidence; and its misdoing is, therefore, aggravated by a certain abuse of trust. The horse is confined between boards, and enjoys not the smallest personal liberty. The severity of captivity argues that no reliance reposes upon the captive’s discretion. All responsibility is lost, when all freedom of action is denied. Yet the poor prisoner is cruelly beaten for playing with food, although the true fault rested upon him who was too idle to give the exercise which would have generated appetite; and was too lazy to proportion the animal’s sustenance to the requirements of its situation.

Moreover, if we had listened to the man’s speech, as he entered the servants’ hall, we should have heard a boast, that the horse had been given a good supper. Now, when a thing is given, all right of ownership passes away with the transfer. The groom, obviously, lost every remnant of title to its possession when he presented the corn to the animal as a free gift; and the beating which he administered to the quadruped was, therefore, an act of wanton severity. The horse had as great a right as the late Duke of Newcastle, to do as it pleased with its own. The flogging could be no more than the gratification of an evil passion--out of which motive is generated the most serious crimes; and, consequently, it was anything but a commendable action in the groom who needlessly chastised a quadruped.

Within the same stable is lodged young master’s favorite mare. It is a beautiful creature: not so slight as to be weedy, but made to carry weight with ease, with speed, and with action. The young master on this occasion has traveled to London by rail, and the entire day has been passed by the mare within the walls of its abode. The fellow quadrupeds have had their exercise; but the groom dislikes this horse. It will not remain by itself, while the pipe is enjoyed with a pint of “early purl;” the man’s pride revolts against drinking his morning’s stomachic in the street. Besides, the animal, when first taken into the open air, will perform a variety of caperings. Young master likes such nonsense: but more than once it has thrown the groom. The mare is, therefore, abhorred with all the malice of a little mind. Yet the creature is all grace and animation; it is only pleasantly excited, when its master gets into the saddle. Can horses possibly possess aristocratic predilections, and can the quadrupeds tell whether hirelings or proprietors are seated on their backs?

The mare is no favorite in the stable. Its feeling of vitality is too powerful to admit of that perfect quietude which the monarch of the locker loves should pervade his dominion. It is always making some noise. Moving about; looking around; nibbling the wood-work; soiling its coat or rumpling its hair. A most perverse brute to look after! It can’t be alone and continue quiet! It will not suppress its spirit; hang its head and appear to fall asleep like the other wretches.

Such an animal, weary of captivity, has pawed its bed, till not a single straw remains within the reach of the forefeet. The manger has been repeatedly licked, till the possibility of a stray oat no longer stimulates further endeavor. The quadruped has strained its neck and elevated its head, till it is quite tired of staring around at nothing. It lacks amusement, and is half inclined to provoke a beating rather than endure the weight of silence and the horror of that monotony which pervades its abode. In this state of restlessness, the vision alights upon the collar-rope. It essays to catch hold of it. The cord, however, being fastened near to the halter, of course it moves with every motion of the head. The feat is not, therefore, so easy as to lack excitement. The prisoner becomes quite elated. A new pastime has at last been discovered!

At first the rope is seized between the lips. The tether, however, often escapes from such a hold: the teeth, therefore, are ultimately employed. The texture of the firmest cord is easily compressed by the muscular power of the horse’s jaw! The substance is not unpleasant to bite; nor is the taste of hemp altogether disagreeable. The teeth, consequently, do not relinquish their grip with the termination of the game. The thing is, from mere vacuity, bitten with different degrees of force. Fiber after fiber yields, till, without any design or the slightest intention, the substance is divided. The creature is then released; but it does not at first comprehend that its bond is destroyed. At length, the welcome truth is recognized, and, bounding with delight, the released captive scampers about the gangway, peering into forbidden places, and reveling in its temporary freedom!

The amazement of the groom is excited at the spectacle of a horse enjoying liberty! No thought is wasted upon the intelligence which was able to achieve so great a blessing. All animals, within the building, are credited only with evil qualities; nothing praiseworthy is looked for or expected to be displayed by them. The only virtue a horse is esteemed capable of exhibiting is brutish submission. The groom, seeing the creature roving about, exclaims in anger, “That wicket beast, agin! It is up to every ‘vice!’”

Another and a stouter rope is procured. The fastening is renewed, and made more strong than it was before. But what has been accomplished once, will be repeated. It may be some days before limited intelligence can recall the precise manner in which its accidental pleasure was secured; but, after an interval, the audacious animal is again in possession of unlawful license. Such occasions subsequently occur more quickly. Till, at length, the groom, puzzled and aggravated by the ingenuity of his charge, substitutes a thick chain for that which had hitherto been represented by a hempen tether.

Iron is not so pleasant to the teeth, neither will it yield so readily to force as did the hemp. The chain is, consequently, an effectual check to some animals. Others, however, are not thus readily subdued. The recollection of forbidden sweets, once tasted and longingly remembered, stimulates their faculties. The teeth soon instruct the understanding that iron cannot be bitten. Is there no other way of breaking the fetter? All living things, when desirous of freedom, pull violently against the bond which restrains them. The quadruped adopts the general artifice. The chain stretches. It perceptibly yields. Then, all the strength and weight are brought to bear: the fetter breaks. Only, the door is locked for the night, when this second offense is consummated; and the horse is the next morning discovered by its groom, careering about the gangway or sharing the stall of a companion.

That which one chain is powerless to retain may, nevertheless, be confined by double fetters. The groom, accordingly, has a second ring fixed upon the manger rail. A stout leathern strap is then buckled round the upper portion of a horse’s neck. To that additional and heavier chain, passing through the second ring, an extra sinker is fastened. The head of the animal has, by this plan, to endure a double, or more than a double, weight. A constant drag, therefore, does not improve the carriage of the crest; but it may serve to remind the quadruped of its recent successful plan of escape, while it certainly cannot otherwise than stimulate the desire for liberty.

The struggles which, in the first instance, were so effective, being now proved powerless, the groom would joyously chuckle over his contrivance, only perseverance in the horse is causing its neck-strap to interfere with the personal appearance of the animal. Constant friction and perpetual strain have made an unsightly notch in the mane, while the neck-strap has generated a circular mark totally devoid of hair. The mane is nature’s embellishment, and neither horse nor lady looks more pleasing, when their flowing tresses have been partially destroyed.

This is very vexing. Yet, when bad begins, worse generally remains behind. Animals which have adopted an idea seem incapable of relinquishing the notion. The creature having once broken its tether resorts to its former plan of operations; it pulls and pulls, only the bonds not yielding to the same force as before, the horse, following the groom’s principle, increases the strength requisite to overpower the difficulty.

A man being defeated in his first essay, probably would resign himself to sullen despair. But the horse is possessed of a different order of mind. Man can conceive a futurity; animals have a knowledge only of the past. All the tales told of animal instincts are capable of explanation by reference to their experience. Chastisement or chiding must be often repeated before brute intelligence can connect the infliction of pain with the commission of certain acts. But, the two being associated, the teaching is generally retained, and, apparently, remains as fresh in the memory upon the day of death as it was upon the first acknowledgment of the lesson. The horse is, however, expected only to obey certain signs, and submit to certain restraints. Its intellect remains, therefore, in a great measure uncultivated. What has been once must be again, embraces the range of its understanding.

The additional chain, consequently, makes no alteration in the behavior of the horse. Present failure only excites to increased exertion. The entire weight and the utmost strength are brought to bear upon the fastenings. The simple quadruped, incapable of calculating the probable results of the sudden absence of resistance, plies with greater energy, till the chains snap, and the huge body, instantaneously released, shoots violently backward. Bones have been broken. Lameness is the general result; but lucky, indeed, is the creature which can rise after such a misfortune, and merely display several huge portions of its skin abraded.

The reader is here invited to examine the facts which have resulted in this serious damage to living property. To bind the strong is not necessarily to subdue the strong. To fetter the creature in whose welfare man has an interest, is evidently a defiance of probabilities, though it may not have been intended so to operate when the bonds were secured. The majority of horses can be stayed by a simple show of authority. We see a boy hold an animal from which the strong man has newly dismounted. So also would many a human culprit be secure in the old-fashioned prisons. Jails, however, are not erected with any regard for the passiveness of their inhabitants; but such edifices are built of a strength which may defy the efforts of the resolute, and are planned with an intent to counteract the ingenuity of the most cunning. Not so with stables. These edifices are erected to confine a creature possessing ten times the strength of any human being. The partitions, however, are of wood, and the bonds usually of rope. Those who are most fluent about the “vices” of the equine race evidently never thought upon the possibility of the animal conceiving a wish to escape; for so very unequal are most stables to their contemplated uses, that the author has known a horse, in the delirium of agony, kick into ruins the building which, during health, had for years served to confine its huge capability of destruction.

The stable, however, is essentially a prison; and so long as it retains that character, it should be of sufficient strength to resist the wildest efforts of the captives. Not being thus, it reflects disgrace on those who put it to uses for which the building is unsuited. The animal, being in bondage, loses all responsibility. Its safe custody is the duty of its self-constituted keepers. It has no trust reposed in it; and, obviously, can violate no faith. It is held in durance by the right of the strong; and if in the struggle which ensues it can prove the strongest, clearly the right which imprisoned it is upturned.

In another point of view, the decision must be favorable to the animal. Nature has gifted the horse with faculties, and blessed it with instincts. Foremost among these faculties is, a facility of varied motion, displayed in particular yearnings; as a fondness for fresh air, green fields, and a desire to roam abroad, unfettered, in the company of its kind. Man violently seizes the quadruped; without caring for the innate promptings of nature, he forces his slave to live, severed from all its longings and away from all it loves. Which is the horse to obey? Is it to deny the charter planted by its Maker within its bosom? Or is it any crime to rebel against the will which will shorten its life, withhold its pleasures, and cripple its body,--studying nothing but the pigmy’s personal gain and heartless advantage?

Then, when the reader turns to the consideration of the custodian’s conduct. Had the circumstances deprived him of all choice, and limited his means of restraining to a doubling of the customary bonds? It is folly for the weak to engage in a muscular contest with the powerful. It is madness for the feeble to place dependence on straws, when the design is to bind a giant. In both respects the groom was in fault. Had he only thought for an instant, reason would have suggested that plan by which the resistance of the horse might have been subdued, and his master’s property might have continued uninjured.

The animal’s struggles expressed merely a dislike to the rope attached to the head. Two fastenings were not calculated to remove the abhorrence which a single bond excited. Had the horse been led from the stall and placed in the solitary chamber of a loose box, the change had quieted its spirit. At so small an expense might all the subsequent damage have been avoided. But a loose box does not acknowledge the pride of man, to use all the life with which this world abounds according to his convenience. It was for pride’s sake that mortality waged the battle; and in loss did pride undergo defeat.

Endeavor to explain the reason why a valuable horse has been damaged, to any professed groom, and try to make him understand how the miscalled accident might have been avoided;--the man, while you are speaking, will put on that look of dogged indifference which informs you the fellow has closed his comprehension against every argument. When you cease talking, the servant stares you in the face, and replies, “He wants no gentl’man to teach him his doty;” and, by so saying, announces a determination to persevere in that course of conduct which has induced such lamentable consequences. There are men in this world who only employ their reason to perpetuate their ignorance. It is one thing to teach; but it is more difficult to find a pupil willing to be instructed.

In many genteel families, stables are esteemed as places in which lumber may be stored; while grooms are regarded as odd men, always ready to be engaged upon any passing necessity. The stable attendant is seldom upon the locker; and the one animal, kept for fashionable purposes, is commonly left much to its own society. The creature, thus housed, does not generally get its meals with regularity. Many hours are made longer, endeavoring to discover the pastime which shall lighten the tedium of its confinement. A melancholy game with such quadrupeds consists in an endeavor to hit the collar-rope with the hoof of the fore extremity.

This recreation, to the reader doubtless appears easy; but to the horse it presents difficulties sufficiently numerous to keep up excitement. The rope is a small object; it is situated high up; it occupies a central situation. The sinker to which it is attached keeps it always straight, and prevents it from being lowered. The cord, moreover, being fastened to the head of the quadruped, moves with every motion of the body; the neck cannot be held stationary when the limb is raised to any unusual height. The game may endure for months, without the animal being so unfortunate as to succeed. At length the hoof hits the mark and becomes fixed. The horse instinctively pulls against any restraint. The tether is thereby rendered tense, and the pain of the situation becomes extreme. At last, by a violent effort, the foot passes over the bond, and the poor captive is fixed, until the groom enters the building and removes the sinker.

The lightest consequence must be, the hair abraded from the back of the limb, the skin lacerated, and the muscles of the neck sprained by the efforts to escape from constriction. Lameness, of some duration, is the usual result. Inquire the cause of mishap, and the groom will petulantly inform you “it were occasioned by the pranks of that fidgety beast, which is always up to some mischief.” Perhaps you object to this explanation, replying, “‘Mischief’ is not a fitting term, since it supposes intentional annoyance to another; whereas the horse has injured no one but itself.” The man stares with surprise, and rejoins, “Ar’nt it, though! But it has injured me! When shall I ever hear the last of it?” Truly, the stable mind must quit the scene of its present labors, before it will submit to be enlightened. It is now so protected by a wall of selfishness, ignorance, and prejudice, that it is open to no assault.

This misfortune is, however, gravely reckoned one of the “vices” of the stable. It is seldom repeated; but a single instance is sufficient to confer the “vicious” character. Poor animal! When even mishaps are regarded as the planned results of its deliberate wickedness. Having so many virtues, yet not credited with a single good quality! Wholly and entirely misunderstood! Else, who in this accident would not perceive intelligence striving to invent some solitary pastime, which might while away the flagging hours? Else, who would not recognize that this evil arose out of the foolish custom of tying up an active creature to a manger? Else, who could fail to discern that a loose box would have rendered such an injury a positive impossibility?

The author is aware that were horses fitly housed and properly treated, the expense of maintaining these creatures must be increased. But against all additional cost there are benefits to be balanced. The animal would live more than thrice as long; it would, for so much greater period, be fit for its master’s service. The accidents occasioned by modern stables would be abolished; the sickness and the disease, produced by inappropriate food, by rigid confinement and impure air, would cease to exist. With change of building, there should also be a thorough change in the stable attendant. The present race of knowing deformities are too full of tricks to be worthy a gentleman’s trust. The groom should be forbidden ever to mount an animal, save in obedience to his superior’s special command. Now the men ride at their pleasure; as a consequence, they very rarely walk. The quadruped is supposed to be only one person’s property; but the poor drudge has to serve “two masters.”

Under the present system, the horse is relinquished to the pleasure of the servant. The man’s report constitutes the all of a proprietor’s knowledge. The mansion, therefore, reflects the ignorance and the prejudice of the stable. The persons occupying the buildings should change places. Most masters ride slowly, merely exercising the nags. Most grooms love speed, and in reality wear out the lives which credulity thinks sacred to another’s service. Yet, though surrounded by abuse, ill-treated and often robbed of its food, the creature has no voice with which to accuse or to complain. There is no one who even cares for its welfare. It is credited with every “vice” and supposed to delight in malice. It is imprisoned, beaten, libeled, and nevertheless gentlemen are often encountered who pride themselves upon the care and the money which are lavished upon their stables.

When all that concerns mankind--the formation of their houses, their kind of food, their dress and manners, their laws and customs--have, with the progress of the period, thoroughly changed; even to such an extent has this alteration been accomplished that it has been often said, were our ancestors resuscitated, they would not recognize the land of their birth; it becomes very painful for the mind to perceive that the habits and usages which formerly surrounded the horse remain to this day all but unaltered. It is a proof of the indifference which encircles the stable, when the buildings erected to receive horses at the Royal Veterinary College, and which date from the last century, are, at the present moment, regarded as models of perfection. Man cares only for himself: of his property in the life which he imprisons, he evidently takes no heed. He pays dearly for his carelessness; and “the beast within his gate” shares none of those blessings which Providence has allowed the human race to enjoy, although religion should teach him that the mere mention of such a possession by Deity, ought to enforce a duty upon humanity!

Another so-named “vice” of the horse is frequently the occasion of more serious results than any of the before-mentioned accidents. No person has hitherto explained why the skin should be more irritable by night than during the daytime. Such, however, is the case with horses, as it is with men. A quadruped in the morning is often found disfigured by the hair being removed from comparatively large surfaces. Itchiness has provoked the animal to rub itself against any prominence, or to scratch its body with the toe of its iron shoe; this indulgence has caused the blemish.

Itching and scratching are numbered among the worst “vices” of the stable. Such faults, however, are only discovered in their effects; the groom never estimates, when flogging an animal for this wickedness, how far the abhorred sin may have been produced by stimulating diet, by want of exercise, and by impure atmosphere. No! He clothes up the body of the animal; shuts every window; stops every cranny; and locks the stable door for the night. The last meal being consumed, and the quadrupeds not being inclined for sleep, they one and all begin to itch. Legs are nibbled; necks are rubbed; and tails are lashed. At length one is sensible of an irritation behind the ear. The head is turned toward the side; the body is curved to the full extent; and the hind leg brought forward. Then, the groom not being present, the toe of the hind shoe can touch the part, and the horse luxuriates in a hearty titillation.

When the head was turned toward the quarters, however, the collar-rope, being attached to the halter, was also stretched in that direction. The hind foot having performed its office, a desire is felt to return it to the natural position. The attempt is made; but this is found to be impracticable. The creature strains against the opposing force, but its struggles only render its comfortless attitude the more fixed. The truth is, that while devoted to the act which allays cuticular irritability, the pastern has slipped over the collar-rope. Such a mishap not only fixes the leg, but fastens the head. With the neck bent and one leg disabled, the animal cannot exert half its power; neither can simplicity comprehend the source of its unnatural constraint. Long continuance of the position becomes painful; alarm seizes upon timidity; the struggles grow desperate; and the poor quadruped, at length, is cast with terrible violence upon the straw which had been shaken down for its repose.

The animal is lucky which should be overthrown in a limited space and escape serious misfortune. It can hardly encounter such an accident and rise from the ground uninjured. The slightest consequences are contused wounds or fractures of small osseous prominences. The worst result, however, usually follows the body being forcibly contorted throughout an entire night. Bones have been dislocated, or a limb has been so sprained as never to have recovered its functions. Necks have never afterward been restored to their pristine grace of motion; and, in short, a valuable servant has, by such a misfortune, been so “wrenched from its propriety,” as to be rendered utterly useless. Nevertheless, the groom will persevere in hailing the fate of an animal which has been cast in the collar-rope as a just punishment induced by the sufferer’s inveterate “vice.”

Carters are open to complaint, because their horses are “cast in the halter,” even to a greater degree than those of town grooms. In agricultural districts, it is a common practice to turn the teams out to graze during the night, and to take them from the field to work in the morning. Some animals, however, prove troublesome to catch, preferring the cool grass and partial liberty to exhausting toil upon an arid roadway. To facilitate the capture of such quadrupeds, many carters, when freeing the creature, will not remove the halter, but suffer it to remain, because this affords a ready hold for the person who fetches in the horses on the following day. The result is easily anticipated. The ear itches. The foot, scratching the part, gets entangled, and that which was a valuable horse on the previous night, is found, in the dawning light, to be a disabled cripple, or a worthless carcass.

The sane mind will, however, behold in this misfortune only a startling proof of the folly which ties the head to a manger, and leaves the animal at the hazard of a fearful accident. Such events have been common ever since the race was first domesticated; yet, to this day, the custom is practiced. Where one quadruped enjoys a loose box, ten thousand are confined to the manger. Neither loss nor the spectacle of the misery produced by his folly seems able to instruct man where the life of another is delivered over to his keeping. As, in America, the master coerces and lashes his slave, so, in England, do proprietors starve, torture, and slay the animals which all pretend to love. The devotion of a life cannot even purchase those necessaries which are needful for the preservation of health. Though the strength and the service are contingent upon the maintenance of bodily vigor, man, with the capriciousness of tyranny, is neglectful of that upon the continuance of which the value of his possession entirely depends.

It may be urged that the size of the horse’s body necessarily limits the dimensions of its abiding-place. This is a strange reason; but it is one commonly used among architects. We, however, do not apply the principle to our own race. Because the Horse Guards are tall men, we do not insist they should sleep in infants’ cots, or wear the clothes of children. Giants are not forced to inhabit the houses fit only for dwarfs. Neither do we carry out the maxim with other creatures. Large rabbits boys put into large hutches. Were smaller horses desired, ponies, even no higher than full-sized dogs, are not scarce. But greater weight and strength enable the quadrupeds to perform larger services. Does it not seem like meanness to select size for our own purposes, yet, where the creature is concerned, to make size a motive for stinting the necessities? The horse is useful to man in proportion to its magnitude; and the poor slave, therefore, ought not to feel the bulk to be its misfortune!

The author cannot here report the grooms’ opinions upon such a topic, though, doubtless, these persons would be the advocates of misrule. There is no class, however, which suffers more than stable-men, from the present custom of confining horses. On cold, wintry nights, when snow is on the ground, these persons, who generally live above the stable, are often awakened from their first sleep, forced to leap from warm beds, and, thinly clad, to hurry down stairs to quiet the horses. The entire stable are lashing out at the same moment. Each hoof seems to be leveled at the stall post, which all violently strike; hence the disturbance.

But what occasions horses to kick by night? That question is perhaps best answered by another. What occasions children to cry by night? Both wake suddenly, and each finds darkness or solitude and silence around it. The horse is a timid creature, and it is of a limited intelligence. Children are not generally conspicuous for courage, and, in them, the reason is undeveloped. Infants are born with a natural sense of helplessness; hence they are the easy victims of alarm, and when frightened, they scream aloud. Horses are brought into the world with an instinctive dependence on the propulsion of the heels, and when frightened, they kick. Children have startled up from fearful dreams, and have screamed themselves into fits. Animals also dream; horses having awakened suddenly, have used their heels as a defense, and have been found lying dead upon the ruins of a battered wall in the morning!

The feet, when cast out, hit the stall post. The blackness of night prevails throughout the place; or fear being kindled, the vision is abused. No eye can pierce utter darkness, and terror lends shape or form to every obstacle which the hoof encounters. The dread which sleep has generated, the awakened perception seems to confirm. The animal lashes out with redoubled violence. The noise made by the act soon arouses its companions. Nothing is so sympathetic as horror. Armies have been actuated by panics. Why, therefore, should animals escape from such senseless emotions? When thousands of men have scampered away from no existing peril, cannot the reader understand that many animals may be impelled by a feeling of fear, when no danger is present?

This is sooner admitted, when it is perceived that the fancy is active in proportion as the intellect is weak: the groom, not having a very powerful understanding, nor having yet slept off the potions and fumes of the previous evening, curses those “vicious varmints,” as he shiveringly opens the stable door. No sooner, however, does the candle illumine, or his presence destroy the loneliness of the place, than fearful eyes cast backward glances, and seeing nothing, all instantly becomes silent. Our engraving of the above incident represents every horse in action; though, frequently, the more slothful will remain passive, notwithstanding the tumult which prevails around them.

This is the effect invariably produced, as soon as the quadrupeds have sufficiently mastered their terror to regain their natural perceptions. Sometimes, however, a minute may elapse before consciousness is perfectly restored. That is the period of danger. Many silly fellows, impatient of their thin clothing, pierced by the frosty air, will approach the animals, during the interval, without remembering that though his voice may produce its usual effect, his costume is altogether a disguise. The man not being recognized, his strange figure may renew the general alarm: when the gangway, having on both sides the hind feet of terrified horses projected into it, becomes anything but a safe promenade.

Now, what produced this excitement of the stable? It was not the dream of one animal which caused it. That may have commenced the tumult, but it was not of itself necessary to the perpetuation of the uproar. The hoof of one quadruped striking the stall post also was distinct from the subsequent noise, which started into existence only with the spread of alarm. Then was generated the terror; for the feeling must have preceded the act, which announced itself by violence. It was the darkness or the silent solitude of the night which allowed full play to the fancy, and conjured up those shadows that drove the horses into temporary madness.

Had not the heads been fastened, the animals, by moving about, could in some measure have tested the reality of their fears. But, fastened to one spot, the fact of having no ability to escape augmented that alarm which the darkness of the stable and the oppression of silence caused and subsequently confirmed. A loose box and a little light would have rendered this noise an impossibility! The horse’s eye can see perfectly in that dusk which to the feebler vision of man might represent an approach to positive blackness. There are few horsemen who, when riding by night, have not had reason to be grateful to the keen perception of their four-footed servants. There are, however, fewer horsemen who are aware whence the animal derives this faculty of distinguishing objects in all but perfect darkness.

Cats, owls, and other creatures are popularly reported to see in the dark. The discernment of every form of vision is disabled by perfect darkness; but the eyes of such animals are so constructed as to collect and reflect upon the optic nerve any remaining ray of light. The horse has an eye endowed with a similar faculty. Most people must have observed that horses assemble under the trees, and apparently sleep during the daytime. Who, however, ever beheld one of the equine race resting during the night? When summer prevails, night is the feeding time of these quadrupeds. When the flies are no longer abroad, but the dewy grass is cool and crisp to the bite,--when the absence of glare soothes the sight is the period of equine enjoyment and the season of equine watchfulness. Does not the reader acknowledge intention in such circumstances? The carnivora, all of which delight in the flesh of the steed, prowl by night, and abound in those regions of which the horse was originally a native. For the conservation of the tribe, therefore, these creatures were formed very fleet, very enduring, but no less quick to detect the approach of an enemy, being as restless by night as the beasts which esteem the horse’s carcass a favorite repast.

The steed, therefore, does not require a chandelier to be fully illumined and to be suspended in the middle of the gangway. An ordinary night light would enable the animal to see perfectly over a large building; and the expense, when divided among numerous individuals, would for each be too small for any English coin to represent. No light, however, could prevent some quadruped occasionally waking up, and in the fright of imperfect consciousness flinging out both its heels. Such accidents no forethought could anticipate. But a slight flame, only sufficient to dispel absolute darkness, would mitigate if not quite abolish those panics during which every foot in the stable is employed to create the greatest attainable noise.

There is another so-called “vice,” which is more directly brought home to the groom than any of the previous mishaps. Probably the statement may, to the reader, appear impossible, which asserts that the servant can impose upon the master so many of his own faults as proofs of “mischief” on the part of an innocent quadruped which it is the menial’s duty to look after. This cheat the fellow is enabled to practice chiefly because he is supposed to be incapable of explaining or of distorting those circumstances which he reports. Thus mishaps are called according to their final effects; and no notice is ever given to the causes which led to such results. A horse is said to have “leapt into the manger;” “to have broken loose;” “to have gnawed the collar-rope;” “to have got one leg over the collar-rope;” “to have cast itself in the collar-rope,” etc.

Were inquiries instituted, the truth, no doubt, would be speedily discovered, and long ago a remedy would have been apportioned. No domestic, however, enjoys so much of the master’s implicit confidence as he who governs the stable. Persons, moreover, of the class respectable are far more swayed by their servants than might be pleasant for the gentlemen to acknowledge. Under this feeling, a vast amount of abuse lies concealed, for the weakness is by no means responded to by respect from the inferior. The “respectable” is always asserting his dignity, and afterward compounding for hastily-spoken words. The groom neither forgets nor forgives these verbal injuries, although his mind is amply stored with maxims against upstarts, to protect his vanity from any wholesome teaching which the admonitions might convey.

Gentlemen, when detained late abroad, generally ride home fast; partly, from a consciousness that it is long past their usual hour of “retiring for the night,” and partly, because they know the groom is “waiting up” for their return. When the stable is reached, the coat of the horse may be wet with perspiration; or a badly-made saddle may have disturbed the smoothness of the hair; or the night may prove rainy, and the animal be brought home drenched to the skin. There are other causes; but be they what they may, the master walks off to bed, while the servant, noting the example, extracts from it no additional humor to discharge his duty. The man is, likewise, cross and sleepy. He turns the horse into the stall without attempting to dress it. He places oats and hay before the quadruped, and says, “If gentl’men will remain out till all ’ours o’ the night, they may sit up and dress their oss ’emselves; for it is rather too much to expect any se’vant, after a ’ard day’s work, to keep out of his bed and do it for ’em.” Accordingly, the man hurries to his room, and soon sleeps soundly.

The quadruped, when the satisfaction of hunger allows the personal feelings to be appreciated, becomes aware that the partial dryness of the coat has produced much irritability of the skin. The animal, therefore, throws itself down, and commences to enjoy the luxury of a roll among the straw. Darkness disables the vision; but, were the light at its greatest power, the horse, in its state of torture, would probably notice nothing about it, for domestication destroys the natural instincts of all animals, making man the custodian of the cares as well as the bodies of the captives. The paving of the stall, also, being highest near to the manger, the inclination of the floor, together with the writhing of the body, occasions the quadruped to insensibly slide backward, until the tension of the collar-rope forbids its further progress.

This check induces the wish to rise; an attempt is made to bring the legs under the body for that object. But as this movement is endeavored to be accomplished, the hinder shins strike violently against some hard substance. The effort is renewed again and again; till the animal, deprived of sight and prevented from supplying the loss of one sense by the exercise of another, ultimately becomes alarmed, and the struggle commences, during which the hind legs are certain to be bruised, abraded, or other evils are sure to be inflicted upon the organs of propulsion. Nor is this all the peril in which the creature is now placed. Noise awakens the natural timidity of the companions; and should other horses be startled by the violent drumming on the partitions, probably they will become the victims of alarm. The sight of the animals is likewise useless in the utter darkness; and horses, when frightened, usually “hang back,” or try to escape from the ropes which fasten the heads to the several mangers.

Under such an impulse, the obtruding legs stand a good chance of being broken; and the animal then must remain in its misery till master has approved the employment of a pistol. Should nothing beyond bruise and abrasion be present, the groom himself undertakes the immediate relief. Another man is procured, and the knot below the sinker being untied, the head is released from the manger. But it is not usual for quadrupeds, after such a misfortune, to rise immediately. However, the servant always hopes for the best, so he and his assistant jointly pull at the tail till the legs are free from impediment, and then leave the wounded creature for master’s wonder and inspection.

The remedies applied to all injuries (excepting fractures) which occur in the stable are equally simple, and few in number. These consist of a lotion, composed of two ounces of tincture of arnica, which is put into a pint bottle, to be subsequently filled up with water. This is used till all symptoms of bruise or swelling have disappeared, after which another lotion is to replace the first. This last is formed by adding one grain of chloride of zinc to every ounce of water, or one scruple to each measured pint of fluid. These lotions are to be applied frequently, not directly to the injury itself, but a sponge, saturated with each liquid, is to be squeezed dry above the sore, the moisture being allowed to trickle over the wound.

The strongest testimony, however, against stables, as such buildings are at present erected, is perhaps borne by the animals which inhabit those places. The horse is a delicate test, which man would do well to attentively observe when he is desirous of ascertaining the healthfulness of any locality. Naturally it is all animation and gayety of spirit. But, however much these qualities may be esteemed, such equine recommendations will soon fade before the joint influence of impure air and close confinement, although you may groom and feed at discretion. The natural period of life is diminished one-half, while much more than half of the remaining years is rendered useless by age, prematurely brought on by inappropriate treatment.