AS TO. SOUNDNESS. 73 
walked and slowly trotted. There was nothing in the 
gait to be called lameness, and yet there was a some- 
thing in the gait which I thought was awkward — 
something wrong. He seemed physically such a perfect 
horse, and was not too old. In trying his wind, I had 
ridden him hard in a grass field and at a swinging canter. 
Now in walking on the hard road his gait was wrong. 
I got on him again, and immediately felt his numb 
wooden feet. On dismounting I carefully searched for 
and found the very neat cicatrices. He had been 
“nerved” on both his fore fetlocks, very neatly indeed, 
and so effectually that it was discovered in his gait on 
the hard road. The hard, metalled road was as much 
a paradise to him as a soft grassy park,—which, as I 
have said, betrayed him. The man who can have 
pleasure in riding a “nerved” horse has no claim to 
the title of horseman. You cannot be too careful in 
looking for “nerving ” marks, in order that one so vilely 
mutilated may be rejected at any price. If the foot 
-has been “nerved,” it has been deprived of the most 
precious gift of organic life—the power fo feel, therefore 
the power to feel pain; and, in consequence, it has 
lost the first essential of self-conservation. Degenera- 
tion of the tissues may be delayed for a time in the 
“‘nerved”’ foot, but if it has been effectively done, 
that is, done so that there shall never be reunion of 
the nerve, then it is physiologically impossible for de- 
generation of tissue to be delayed over a very short 
time. Having satisfied yourself that there has been no 
