628 
ON TJIK TREATMENT OF 
ferences in the quantity and quality of their clothing. The wool or 
hair of the first will be observed to be fine, thin, smooth, and glos¬ 
sy ; of the second, coarse, thick, rough, and dingy; and in those 
living in a mediocre and more variable climate, where the alterna¬ 
tions of heat and cold require provision to be made for the comfort 
of the animal under either, we find that an approximation to the 
one or the other of the beforementioned states exists, as circum- 
cumstances may require. Take the horse in this country as an ex¬ 
ample. In summer, when the thermometer is ranging from sixty 
to eighty degrees, we find him with a thin smooth glossy coat, ra¬ 
diant with colouring; his extremities clean, fine, and free from a 
rough or misplaced hair—a counterpart, in fact, of his progenitors 
in the East:—in winter, on the contrary, when the mercury has 
fallen many degrees beneath zero, we scarcely recognize him in his 
thick, rough, coarse colourless coat, his extremities enveloped in 
long shaggy hair, destructive of all form and symmetry. No ex¬ 
quisite of the day, dressed in the most approved style for a sum¬ 
mer lounge in the park, can be less like himself when wrapped up in 
his shooting costume for the first of September, than the horse is 
at the same seasons of the year. 
What we, however, can so easily effect by art is not effected 
without some considerable derangement of the constitution by na¬ 
ture : the change, however, must be made for the comfort and even 
preservation of the animal, and in a natural state it is made without 
much, but still some, disturbance; but in a domesticated state, 
where his powers are already taxed to the utmost, the extra call 
produces a double source of exhaustion, which requires to be care¬ 
fully supported. This accounts, therefore, for our finding him at this 
time of the year weak, languid, dull, easily fatigued, and pecu¬ 
liarly susceptible of disease; his condition is too often lost, and, 
when lost, can scarcely be regained for the winter. The slightest 
exertion makes him perspire profusely, while the greatest labour 
will w'ith difficulty dry him; he may feed as usual, he may look 
tolerably well to the eye, but he will not be as equal as at other 
times to the demands we may make on him; or, if he fail us not in 
the essential point of work, he will too often annoy us by an ap¬ 
pearance as contrary to our wishes as a dreadnought would be in a 
ball-room. This is the usual state of the case in those instances 
where they are kept in a state of, or any thing approaching to, 
nature. 
In the artificial and luxurious state in which some of our best 
horses are kept, living seven-eighths of the year through in an at¬ 
mosphere regulated by a fixed point of the thermometer, and that, 
too, elevated to a considerable degree—where, except for a gallop or 
an hour’s exercise, the changes of temperature are scarcely felt, and 
