102 
VETERINARY SKETCHES. 
one knows that, if you put him into a close stable, you will give 
him a cough directly. The fact is also well known, that after 
this has occurred, there is no remedy so certain as turning him 
out to grass, for his cough will then leave him in six hours.’ Half 
the young horses that die in London are sacrificed to the pernicious 
practice adopted by London stable-keepers, of excluding every 
breath of air from the interior of their stables, merely because 
they know that, by this means, the coats of the horses are much 
more easily kept in fine order, and that a great deal of trouble in 
grooming is consequently spared. 
“ It was carrying out this principle to its fullest extent,” says 
Mr. Bransby Cooper, “ that induced him to pay such strict atten- 
tion to the ventilation of stables, the great public advantage de- 
rived from which I have already alluded to. I must acknowledge, 
however, that I have sometimes suffered from the Professor’s 
extreme love of cold air; for if he ever could manage at his par- 
ties to have a window left open unperceived, he was delighted ; 
and many a time, when I have dined with him, I have said, 
‘ Pray, Mr. Coleman, have your ventilators shut, or I shall be 
blown out of the room ;’ at which he has laughed, and had the 
direction of the current changed by stealth, so as to play, perhaps, 
upon some other visitor less sensitive than myself. 
“ I was with my dear old friend twenty-four hours before his death : 
I call him my friend, for such he always was. He was pallid, 
and with every mark of approaching dissolution, excepting loss of 
spirits. He was lying on a bed, placed between two open win- 
dows, his head being without any cap or covering of any sort, 
while his grey locks were literally floating in the wind, for, al- 
though in July, it was cold and blowing weather. Acquainted as 
I was with his peculiar notions on this subject, I could not help 
saying, * My dear sir, you must be cold, thus exposed ;’ and he 
said, ‘ No, I have plenty of clothes on my bed, a large fire in my 
room, and with this pure air passing freely to my lungs, I shall 
live a few hours longer ; but to-day, I think, is my last. The 
scene of life, Bransby,’ continued he, ‘ is drawing to a close ; and 
although my career has been a most happy one, I feel much less 
regret than I expected in leaving it, for I have full confidence in 
