82 STABLE MANUAL AND HORSE DOCTOR 



and uneasiness when left alone, and beyond earshot of some 

 signs or sounds of their whereabouts, is remarkable ; and 

 equally so is the general disposition of the animal when at 

 liberty to indulge in that rough sort of amusement which 

 has obtained the proverbial appellation of "horse-play." 

 Of his desire for mutual amusement you may soon have a 

 proof by placing him in a loose box, with the upper part of 

 the door of iron rods, so that he can watch passing objects, 

 or be on the look-out for them. You will find him, when 

 not in the act of feeding, with his nose close to the bars, 

 and taking as good a peep as he can get of the outside 

 world ; and if you open the top door entirely (don't do this 

 if you don t know your horse intimately) he will be found 

 for half the day with his head and neck thrust out of it, 

 surveying so much of the moving scene and of man's doings 

 as his horizon will take in. That he is amused and 

 observant, if not reflective, anyone who watches his action 

 and eye can see. 



Someone may remark that race-horses live constantly in 

 boxes, and do excellently well ; but a race-horse is an 

 exceptional animal. He is bred, trained, and treated in a 

 way peculiar to the high caste to v»^hich he belongs, and 

 though we have had a Derby winner in a street cab, 

 the race-horse, while he is a race-horse, is kept in a 

 box. He is accustomed to such quarters from his colthood, 

 and his instinctive social qualities are deteriorated thereby, 

 whatever may be done for his speed. Instead of associating 

 with his species, he has no real companions. He does not 

 miss his playfellows — he never had any. Instead of 

 missing them or welcoming them, he kept aloof from them ; 

 he is, says a clever writer, in a purposed Hibernicism, " a 

 sort of domeaticated wild beast, kept to run for money." 

 Though he is not a " wild horse," he is a " solitary horse." 

 He is brought up upon the " separate " if not the " silent " 

 system of prison discipline ; the desire for companionship 

 is dead within him — he is a quadrupedal anchorite, and 

 does not care for his kind. 



Horses, in general, do better in stalls than in boxes, 

 unless in boxes with racks only between them and their 

 next neighbours. Whatever rural sight or sound cheers 

 the spirit of man, seems to cheer the horse also. Again, 

 horses feed much better from hearing others eat ; and in 

 many instances whci.t a horse, especially alter a bard run, 



