THE CULTIVATOR. 
April 
“ I hope,” replied the seller, eoolly, “ you don’t 
call blindness a fault, when it is- only the poor 
horse's misfortune!” 
Everybody knows that I have no great preten¬ 
sions to much knowledge about horses-, and in or¬ 
der, therefore, to* give my teachings due weight, 
you must be informed how I earne by my educa¬ 
tion in this department of science. Be it known, 
then, that about five years ago, I chanced.to be 
the proprietor of a mare, the verriest vixen that 
ever went on four feet. Among her other “ ami¬ 
able weaknesses,” was a strange propensity to Mete. 
It was her favorite amusement to kick at any 
other creature, quadruped or biped, that came 
within reach; and when tied alone, she would 
keep herself in practice, by kicking up her heels, 
as high as the scaffold, about onee in five minutes, 
accompanying the perfoi manee with a squeal, that 
could be'heard by all the neighbors. 
Such an animal was rather difficult to dispose 
*of, as you may suppose. Mr. Pickwick and bis 
friend, after they had led that “dreadful horse " 
six miles in the heat and dust of a summer'* day, 
without being able to mount him, were fna scarce¬ 
ly worse dilemnpa. Finally, my precious Kate, 
who was more of a “shrew" than even Petru. 
chio’s., having withstood most manfully {woman- 
fully, occurred to me, but I won't say it,) all my 
endeavors to “tame” her, commenced a new spe¬ 
cies of gymnastics^ by kicking up in tfie carriage 
every time she felt the breeching, in going down 
hill. . ; 
Now, as she would not work on the farm “ for 
any man’s persuasion,” and was not precisely the 
kind of animal to sell to one's particular friend, as 
“a steady family horse,” and as I did not dare to 
risk my own wife and children behind her, I began 
to read the “ Muck Manual,” with the idea of 
computing her agricultural value, for the compost 
heap, when fortunately I had occasion to drive her 
to the good old town of Derry , in a sleigh. As I 
came up to Cameron's Hotel, at about “ a tliree- 
minute lick,” as the jockies say, I saw at the sign 
post, a fine stately horse harnessed to a sleigh. I 
was examining him pretty carefully, when a man 
whose appearance announced him as one of “ tbe 
Fancy” stepped out, and accosted me with, “Well, 
friend, do you want to buy such a horse as that?” 
“ I should like him,” was my reply, if he is as good 
as he looks, and you will sell him at a fair price, 
and take mine without any extra charge.” 
“ Why, what sort of a beast have yon got? She 
looks well, and came up the street a§ if she had 
legs enough.” 
•I hope I shall be forgiven, if I suspected .he 
would not believe more than half I said, when I re¬ 
plied,' giving him the literal truth: “She is six 
years old, and sound, can trot a mile in three 
minutes, and will be likely to kick your brains out 
if you take her, in the course of a week.” He 
assured me that his horse was perfectly sound and 
kind; that his price was three hundred dollars, 
and that, he would “'swap right;” adding, coolly, 
“ I should like to see one horse that is uglier than 
Jam.” 
I proposed to drive his horse, alone, to which 
the owner at once assented, and I steered straight 
off.to the stable of a man, famous for his skill in 
horse-flesh, whom I had known when I was a boy 
there at Pinkerton Academy, and asked him to 
examine the animal with me. We drove him out 
of sight, and gave him a thorough investigation. 
We tried him in all his paces, w%lk, trot and can¬ 
ter,. forward*^nd backward, examined Ms teeth, 
his feet, his knees, his eyes. We. observed his 
breathing, spoke of the glanders, the heaves, bro¬ 
ken wind, and various other ills which horse-flesh 
is heir to. But be seemed “.all right.” He was 
young, and large, and handsome, and fleet, and 
to all appearance sound and manageable; and yet 
we were perfectly satisfied that the horse had some 
defect. 
However. I put a bold face on the matter, drove 
hack to tbe hotel, and told my man I would give 
him fifty dollars to boot, or go along with my own 
hyrse. Without driving my mare an inch, he 
quietly unhitched his own horse from his sleigh, 
exchanged harness, put him to my sleigh, and 
pocketed his fifty dollars, hardly losing a whiff of* 
the cigar he was smoking, I confess I was a lit¬ 
tle startled at his per feet composure, but with a 
friendly caution- to beware of Kate’s heels, I bade 
him farewell. 
I had but five miles to drive that afternoon, to 
my native town of Chester, where I stabled my 
new Ijorse for the night. I gaye him the name of 
the “ General.” it being a time of political excite¬ 
ment,’ when both candidates bore that title. I 
never mfngfe politics with agriculture, and did not 
want my horse to run a political course. 
Having dreamed of horses all night, besides hav¬ 
ing the nightmare once or twice, I awoke betimes, 
anxious to igarn' the condition of'my new trea¬ 
sure. Everybody knows how much more pride 
one feels in his horse, than in any other property, 
and especially how it “ takes the conceit out of 
him” to be cheated in a “ horse trade.” 
I went to the stable with .fear and trembling, 
doubting whether the General had not been trans¬ 
formed like “ fairy gold,” to dust and ashes, dur¬ 
ing the night, or whether he nlrght not have been 
’a witch's horse, and be found turned into a broom¬ 
stick l 
But he was there in full shape and proportions. 
He gave a slight cough as I opened the door, a 
sound which a man who has owned a horse with 
the heaves never will forgetf and on examination 
I found he bad a strange way . of breathing, his 
f ank heaving two or three times at every expira¬ 
tion of the breath. I was told at once that my 
horse had the heaves. 
I had heard of the disease frequently, and had 
the impression, which I find is quite common, that 
it renders the animal worthless. However, as it 
was a complaint which struck at my purse and my 
feelings, and not like Katy’s heels, at my head, I 
concluded to be resigned, and avail myself of my 
very manifest advantages for observations on its. 
symptoms and treatment. 
My horse went home to Exeter, sixteen miles, in 
fine style, with no symptom of disease, exeept onee 
in a mile or two, a slight cough. Straightway I 
strove to learn all that books and stable men can 
tell of the heaves, and to try all known remedies. 
In its common form, it is thought to be a for¬ 
mation of air cells on the outside of the lungs, 
from which the air escapes with difficulty. Some¬ 
times, on dissection, the proper air cells of the 
lungs are found to be ruptured, and generally there 
is inflammation of the throat and windpipe. The 
theories about it are various. It is said often that 
the lungs have not room for action, and that food 
should therefore be given in a condensed form, and 
in moderate quantity—and this I should regard as 
correct, were it not notorious that horses'at grass, 
