PIGS. 57 



the pig's inside, as indeed that of any other stock if 

 used too fresh ; that is, before they have been some 

 two months out of the soil, or have been somewhat 

 dried in small heaps about the sheds, so as to have 

 lost somewhat of their sour wateriness. To counter- 

 act surfeit and the like, to which their aldermanic 

 appetite makes them liable, keep giving sulphur 

 occasionally in the food, or an ounce of castor oil (if 

 you see the least symptom of dulness), which, float- 

 ing on skim-milk, our friend will swallow up in a 

 twinkling, not having, I presume, the nicest of 

 palates ; for physicking a pig is not all fun. It is 

 rather a difficult, and often unsatisfactory business. 

 What with encircling his head with a halter amidst 

 the most execrable din that mortal ear can meet, 

 then forcing his jaws open with a broom handle, 

 then poking down his gullet a morsel of bread soaked 

 in croton oil, or some such extra potent nastiness (for 

 a pig takes a deal of moving), it is a job that one 

 would not care to undertake a second time. An old- 

 fashioned, but I have understood successful, mode of 

 treating a sick pig when not too far gone, is to meet 

 him in the straw -yard with a bucket of the chillest 

 spring water, and dash it over the face and shoulders 

 of your patient. What with the shock his system 

 experiences, and the fright, and the pace he inva- 

 riably breaks into, a heavy perspiration bursts forth, 

 which is his saving — a simple adaptation, I conclude, 

 of the principle whereon the talented author of 

 "Eothen" shook off the plague when despaired of 

 at Cairo : his dose being simply thick blankets and 

 hot tea. This is, I presume, when you notice first 



