THE COACH-HORSE. 37 



There is no truth so easily proved, or so pauifully felt by the post- 

 master, at least in his pocket, as that it is the pace that kills. A horse at a 

 dead pull, or at the beginning of his pull, is enabled, by the force of his 

 muscles, to throw a certain weight into the collar. If he walk four miles 

 in the hour, some part of that muscular energy must be expended in the 

 act of walking; and, consequently, the power of drawing must be propor- 

 tionably diminished. If he trot eight miles in the hour, more animal power 

 is expended in the trot, and less remains for the draught ; but the draught 

 continues the same, and, to enable him to accomplish his work, he must 

 tax his energies to a degree that is cruel in itself, and that must speedily 

 wear him out. 



Let it be supposed — what every horse cannot accomplish — that he shall 

 be able, by fair exertion and without distress, to throw, at a dead pull, a 

 weight into his collar, or exert a force equal to two hundred and sixteen 

 pounds ; or, in other words, let him be able to draw a load which requires a* 

 force of two hundred and sixteen pounds to move. Let him next walk at the 

 rate of four miles in an hour : what force will he then be able to employ ? 

 We have taken away some to assist him in walking, and we have left him 

 only ninety-six pounds, being not half of that which he could exert when he 

 began his pull. He shall quicken his pace to six miles an hour— more 

 energy must be exerted to carry him over this additional ground. Hovv 

 much has he remaining to apply to the weight behind him ? Fifty-four 

 pounds only. We will make the six miles an hour ten ; for it seems now 

 to be the fashion for the fast coach, and for almost every coach, and every 

 vehicle to attempt this pace. How stands the account with the poor 

 beast ? We have left him a power equal to thirty-two pounds only to be 

 employed for the purpose of draught. 



The load which a horse can draw is about fifteen times greater than the 

 power exerted, supposing the road to be hard and level, and the carriage to 

 run with little friction ; and the horse which at starting can throw into the 

 collar a weight or force equal to two hundred and sixteen pounds, will draw 

 a load of three thousand two hundred. Let him, however, be urged on at 

 the rate of ten miles in the hour — deduct the power used in swiftness of 

 pace from the sum total of that which he possesses, and what remains? — 

 not a sixth part — not that which is equal to a quarter of a ton— or, if it be 

 a stage-coach, the energy exerted in draught by the four horses will not 

 be equal to a ton. 



The coach, and its passengers and its luggage, weigh more than this, and 

 the whole is still drawn on, and must be so. Whence comes the power? 

 From the over-strained exertion, the injury, the torture, the destruction of 

 the horse. That which is true of the coach-horse, is equally true of every 

 other. Let each reader apply it to his own animal, and act as humanity 

 and interest dictate. 



Many a horse used on our public roads is unable to throw all his natural 

 power or weight into tlie collar. He is tender-footed — lame ; but he is 

 bought at little price, and he is worked on the brutal and abominable 

 principle, that he may be " uchiirped sound.^' And so apparently he is. 

 At first he sadly haks ; but, urged by the torture of the lash, he acquires 

 a peculiar habit of going. The faulty Hmb appears to keep pace with the 

 others, but no stress or labour is thrown upon it, and he gradually contrives 

 to make the sound limbs perform among them all the duties of the un- 

 sound one ; and thus he is barbarously " whipped sound," and cruelty is 

 undeservedly rewarded. After all, however, what has been done? Three 

 legs are made to do that which was almost too hard a task for four. Then 



