boys’ department. 
291 
Sags’ Apartment. 
TREATMENT OF ANIMALS.—No. 3. 
In my last number, I promised to say something 
of a certain horse-taming exploit in connexion with 
one Sullivan, which will be found in the little book 
then referred to, entitled the “ Horse and his 
Rider,” and is nearly as follows :— 
At the spring meeting of 1804, Mr. Whalley’s 
horse. King Pippin, was brought on the curragh, 
or race-course, of Kildare, in Ireland, to run. He 
was an animal of the most strangely savage and 
vicious disposition. His particular propensity was 
that of flying at, and worrying any person who 
came within his reach ; and, if he had an opportu¬ 
nity, he would turn his head round, seize his rider 
by the leg with his teeth, and drag him down from 
his back. For this reason he was always ridden 
with what is called a sword; that is, a strong, flat 
stick having one end attached to the check of the 
bridle, and the other to the girth of the saddle—a 
contrivance to prevent a horse of this kind from 
getting at his rider. 
King Pippin had long been difficult to manage, 
and dangerous to go near; but on the occasion in 
question, he could not be got to run at all. Nobody 
could put the bridle on his head. There was a 
large concourse of people assembled on the cur¬ 
ragh ; and one countryman, more fearless than the 
rest of the lookers on, volunteered his services to 
bridle the horse'. No sooner had he commenced 
operations, than King Pippin seized him somewhere 
about the shoulders, and shook him as a dog does a 
rat. Fortunately for the poor fellow, his body was 
very thickly covered with clothes ; for on such holi¬ 
day occasions an Irishman of his class is fond of 
displaying his wardrobe, and if he has three coats 
in the world, he is sure to put them all on. Owing 
to this circumstance, the horse never fairly got hold 
of his skin, and the man escaped with little injury, 
except the rent and ruined condition of his holiday 
attire. 
The “ Whisperer” was now sent for. This mys¬ 
terious horse-tamer soon arrived, was shut up with 
the horse all night, and in the morning exhibited 
the hitherto ferocious animal following him about 
the course like a dog—lying down at his command 
—suffering his mouth to be opened, and any per¬ 
son’s hand to be introduced into it—in short, almost 
as quiet as a sheep. He came out the same meet¬ 
ing and won his race, and his docility continued 
satisfactory for a considerable period; but at the 
end of three years, his vice returned, and then he 
is said to have killed a man, for which he was slain. 
The man who effected the wonder above described, 
was an awkward, ignorant rustic, of the lowest class, 
by the name of Sullivan, but better known by the ap- 
ellation of the Whisperer. His occupation was 
orse-breaking. The nickname he acquired from the 
vulgar notion of his being able to communicate to 
the animal what he wished by means of a whisper; 
and the singularity of his method seemed in some 
degree to justify the supposition. How his art 
was acquired, or in what it consisted, he never dis¬ 
closed. Sullivan died about the year 1810. His 
son, who followed him in the same trade, possess¬ 
ed but a small portion of the art, having never 
learned the true secret, or being incapable of put¬ 
ting it into practice. 
When sent for to tame a vicious beast, Sullivan 
directed the stable in which he and the object of 
his experiment were to be shut, with orders not to 
open the door until a signal was given. After a 
tete-d-tite of about half an hour, during which lit¬ 
tle or no bustle was heard, the signal was made, 
and upon opening the door, the horse appeared 
lying down, and Sullivan by his side, playing with 
him like a child with a puppy-dog. From that 
time, the animal was found to be perfectly willing 
to submit to any discipline, however repugnant to 
his nature before. 
In common cases this mysterious preparation 
was unnecessary. The whisperer seemed to possess 
an instinctive power of inspiring awe, the result, 
perhaps, of natural intrepidity, in which, it is be¬ 
lieved, a great part of his art consisted ; notwith¬ 
standing, the circumstance of the tite-d-tite shows 
that, on particular occasions, something more must 
have been added to it. S. A. 
Washing Hands.— To promote the softness of 
the skin, mild emollient soaps, or those abounding 
in oil, should alone be used, by which means chaps 
and chilblains will generally be avoided. The 
coarse, strong kinds of soap, or those containing 
much alkali, should for a like reason be rejected, 
as they tend to render the skin rough, dry, and 
brittle. The immersion of the hands in alkaline 
leys, or strongly acidulated water, has a similar 
effect. When the hands are very dirty, a little good 
soft soap may be used with warm water, which 
will quickly remove oily and greasy matter. The 
use of a little sand, or powdered pumice-stone, with 
the soap, will generally remove the roughness of 
the skin even when induced by exposure to cold. 
The use of a small quantity of chloride of lime 
and warm water, will impart a delicate whiteness 
to the skin; but this should only occasionally bo 
employed, and then it should immediately be wash¬ 
ed off with clean water to remove its odor. 
Lord Byron on Clean Hands. —In an amus¬ 
ing letter to a friend in Paris, in 1817, Byron said: 
I never was a great phrenologist, Pauline, nor do I 
pretend to read mankind so quickly as yourself, but 
if a stranger comes in, I generally look at the state 
of his hands. To a gentleman, dirty hands are an 
abomination—that settles one point. A respecta¬ 
ble man never presents himseif with dirty hands 
and foul nails—so if I find my customer with these 
credentials, I conclude that he is an idler, a drunkard, 
or a scamp, and I show him out as soon as possible. 
How to Make Congreve, or Loco-Foco 
Matches. —Take chlorate of potassa 2 parts; 
phosphorus 4 parts; gum-arabic 7 parts; and gela¬ 
tine 2 parts. The phosphorus and gum are first 
divided or broken, and then brought to a state of 
thick mucilage by being warmed; the gelatine is 
melted and added to the phosphorated, mucilage. The 
chlorate of potassa is bruised in a mortar, and at the 
same time moistened with the mucilage. When it 
is bruised, the whole is mixed together, and a paste 
is obtained, with which matches, tipped with sul¬ 
phur, may be embued. They are then dried in the air. 
