THE SORROWS OF CIVILIZED HORSE-FLESH. 309 



sure their safety. It is quite probable, however, 

 that a systematic pursuit, of the kind practiced in 

 Texas, might prove successful at any season of the 

 year. 



I gazed at our two victims with less satisfaction 

 than at any thing I had ever killed. Shooting horses, 

 dear reader, is a good deal like shooting monkeys. 

 They are both too intimately associated with man to 

 be made food for his powder. One is a very true and 

 faithful servant, and the other, if we may believe Mr. 

 Darwin, was once his ancestor. 



In examining the two handsome bodies lying there, 

 I noticed one fact to which I should have liked to 

 draw the attention of the whole learned fraternity of 

 blacksmiths, who mutilate horses, the world over. 

 The hoofs were as solid and as sound as ivory, with- 

 out a crack or wrong growth of any sort. And why? 

 Turning them up, the secret lay exposed ; for there, 

 filling the cavity within — a sponge of life-giving oil — 

 was the frog entire, just as Nature made and kept it. 

 Its business was to feed and moisten the hoof, and 

 this it had done perfectly. No blacksmith had ever 

 gouged it out with his knife, and robbed it anew at 

 every shoeing. 



It is noticeable that the equine race, in its wild 

 state, has none of the ills of the species domesticated. 

 The sorrows of horse-flesh are the fruits of civiliza- 

 tion. By the study and imitation of Nature's 

 methods, we could greatly increase the usefulness of 

 these valuable servants, and remove temptation from 

 the paths of many men who lead blameless lives, ex- 

 cept in the single matter of horse-trades. It may 

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