THE ETHICS OF HORSE-KEEPING. 9 
strange house, always greets me when I come out 
with an eager, enthusiastic neigh, as if she had begun 
to despair of seeing her master again. 
Nevertheless, whether from the want of ancestral 
usage or otherwise, horses, it must be granted, are 
less sociable with men than are dogs. Nor can I 
agree with the remark recorded as having been made 
by the famous sportsman, Thomas Assheton Smith, 
(but perhaps incorrectly,) that “horses are far more 
sensible than dogs.” The converse, I should say, is 
true. Dogs are more sensible, more intelligent, more 
affectionate, and, as a rule, more trustworthy than 
horses. So much justice requires that we should 
admit, although the contrary is often maintained by 
persons well informed upon the subject. Who, indeed, 
has not heard the intelligence of the horse eloquently 
defended by some hard-headed, hard-drinking old 
horseman, who would seem to enjoy a perfect im- 
munity from all sentimental considerations? But he 
does not. “If we could have come upon Diogenes 
suddenly,” Thackeray somewhere remarks, “he would 
probably have been found whimpering in his tub over 
a sentimental romance.” And so the old horseman, 
being fond of horses, knowing them, but knowing 
nothing else, deriving both his livelihood and his 
pleasure from them, unconsciously exaggerates their 
good qualities. But, on the other hand, the horse is 
far more intelligent than most people suppose, and 
there are certain qualities in which he excels all 
other dumb animals. The conspicuous merit of the 
horse, which has given him the dearly paid honor of 
sharing in our wars,” says Mr. Hamerton, in a charm- 
ing essay, “is his capacity for being disciplined; and 
