STABLES. 291 



keeps the horse in semi-darkness, so that he is half 

 blinded when he goes into it on a bright day, and 

 quite dazzled when he comes out. It is nothing to 

 him that the sloping floor is a perpetual strain upon 

 the muscles of the legs during the time when they 

 ou"ht to be at rest. He has built his stable as stables 

 always have been built, and the creature which is to 

 inhabit it has nothing to do with him. 



One of the chief difficulties with which an owner 

 of horses has to contend when he desires ventilation 

 is, that the groom, as a rule, dislikes ventilation, and 

 cannot distinguish between fresh air and a draught. 

 One of the evils of imperfect ventilation has already 

 been mentioned in connection with the custom of 

 clipping. 



The groom will tell you that a * warm ' — i.e. a close 

 — stable makes a horse's coat shine like satin. So it 

 does ; but as it mostly kills the horse, the benefit is 

 rather doubtful, and reminds one of Charles Lamb's 

 Chinaman, who burned down his house whenever he 

 wanted to roast a pig. 



It would be better for the horse to live, as the 

 North American pony lives, in a far severer climate 

 than ours, never to be housed and never to be groomed, 

 than to pass more than half its time in such a pesti- 

 lential atmosphere as that of an ordinary stable when 

 managed by an ordinary groom. 



TJ 2 



