No. 12. 



Disease among JVeat Cattle. 



369 



at that time, December, 1763, Timothy grass 

 was known rather as an American, than an 

 English, vegetable. Stillingfleet, in his ob- 

 servations on grasses, speaks of it as being 

 brought from North America about forty 

 years before he wrote, which was in 1811. 

 It was introduced into English agriculture 

 with strong recommendations, but, as he 

 says, was soon rejected, being found coarse, 

 and of little value for any purpose. Curtis, 

 in his " Practical Observations," gives it 

 precisely the same character, but makes no 

 allusion as to its *^ habitat," or whether it be 

 English or American. Sinclair, in his " Hor- 

 tus Gramineus Woburiiensis," expresses 

 other opinions. He thinks it of great value 

 as a " constituent of any mixture of grasses 

 for permanent pasture," and also for hay. 

 From him we have a corroboration of the 

 " Museum Rusticum," that it was first made 

 known to English agriculturists in 1763, by 

 a gentleman who took it from this country. 

 Parnell, in his late work on grasses, con- 

 firms this idea. Our own Botanists, with 

 the exception of Eaton, appear to think it 

 an emigrant foreigner, somewhat starved 

 and ill treated at home; but under the 

 broader and more flattering encouragements 

 of our free institutions, richer lands, and 

 stimulating climate, transformed into a more 

 important and imposing production. The 

 authorities quoted above, lead to the belief 

 that it ia a " native," and that its value in 

 agriculture was first made known from this 

 country, and the reputation it has gained 

 and continues to have, first established here. 

 A. L. Elwyn. 



Philadelphia, June 21st, 1847. 



Johnson, in his Encyclopedia, says " this is a great 

 American grass, and is called Timothy, from Mr. Tim- 

 othy Hanson, who first introduced its seeds into Ma- 

 ryland :" and we all know that for hay, it is one of our 

 most valuable grasses. — Ed. 



From the Cultivator. 



Disease among Neat Cattle* 



On a fine morning in June, 1838, a neigh- 

 bour of mine requested me to examine the 

 bodies of two fat steers which he had just 

 found dead in his pasture field, and which 

 he suspected had been poisoned. He said 

 that having driven one from the field late 

 the previous afternoon, he had observed the 

 two that were now lying dead before us, 

 quietly grazing about, apparently in perfect 

 health. As their hides had been removed, 

 my attention was first attracted by the blood- 

 less appearance of the flesh, like that of well 

 dressed butchers' meat. There was no of- 

 fensive smell, nor any distension of the ab- 

 domen. On laying open that cavity, no gas 



escaped, and the stomach, or maw, the part 

 first exposed, presented a perfectly healthy 

 appearance. On cutting into this organ, it 

 was found well filled with grass, which had 

 a very fresh and natural appearance, as if 

 the animal had fed in perfect health until 

 within a few minutes of its death. On rais- 

 ing up flaps with the knife, a thin pellicle 

 was seen to detach itself by its own weight 

 and that of the grass adhering to it, leaving 

 the villous coat of the stomach perfectly 

 clean and apparently healthy. The maw 

 being now removed, brought into view the 

 liver, the spleen, and small intestines. Hith- 

 erto everything had presented nearly a na- 

 tural aspect, but this was now no longer the 

 case. The liver, indeed, appeared healthy, 

 with the exception of a somewhat unnatural 

 paleness, but the spleen was much distended 

 with black blood, and the small intestines 

 were found filled, entirely filled with the 

 same fluid! So intensely did this dark co- 

 loured blood show through the thin coats of 

 the bowels, that the bystanders mistook it 

 for mortification ; but after letting out their 

 contents the membranes assumed their natu- 

 ral colour. It seemed that all the blood in 

 the body had found its way into the bowels, 

 and this view of the matter was strength- 

 ened by examining the viscera of the chest. 

 The lungs were very pale and bloodless, and 

 upon slitting open the heart across the sep- 

 tum, so as to lay open both ventricles; the 

 right was found to exhibit some bloody stains, 

 but the left was as clean as if it had been 

 wiped out with a wet cloth. The animal 

 had evidently died of bleeding, and that 

 without the escape of a drop of blood from 

 the body. It had probably fed until dark, 

 wholly unconscious of its impending fate, 

 and then quietly laid itself down to sleep' 

 the sleep of death. Nearly all the blood in 

 the body, by some unknown process, had 

 been suddenly transferred from its natural 

 receptacles into the intestinal tube ; and so 

 suddenly had this been accomplished, and 

 with so little previous indisposition, that all 

 the animal functions had been performed in 

 apparently the most healthy manner until 

 within a few moments of dissolution. But 

 how, or by what channel had the blood been 

 so transferred, was a question for the anato- 

 mist. By what unknown, what miraculous 

 process had such a state of things been 

 brought about] How could the animal live 

 until the blood-vessels, and even the heart 

 itself could be entirely emptied ? No butcher 

 ever accomplished a feat like this. Slit open 

 the heart of the most thoroughly bled ani- 

 mal from the slaughter house, and it will be 

 found to contain large clots of blood. No 

 human means can sustain life until the heart 



