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tbe genial and purifying influences of parents,
sisters, brothers, and the man-sating influence
of the family government. The nation must look
for virtue, wisdom and strength, to the ednca- i
tion that controls and shapes the home policy of
the family circle. There can be no love of coun
try where there is no love of home. Patriot- '
ism, true and genuine, the only kind worthy of
the name, derives its mighty strength from foun
tains that gush out around the hearthstone : and
those who forget to cherish the household inter- ;
ests, will soon learn to look with indifference
upon the interests of their common country.
We must cultivate the roots—not the tops. —
We must make the family government, the
school, the farm, the church, the shop, the ag
ricultural fairs, the laboratories of our future
greatness. We must educate our sons to be
farmers, artisans, architects, engineers, geolo
gists, botanists, chemists —in a word, practical
men. Their eyes must be turned from Washing
ton to their States, counties, townships, districts,
homes. This is true patriotism ; and the only
patriotism that will perpetually preserve the
nation. — [Gov. Wright.
vikvv. TUT. HOMESTEAD BEAUTIFUL.
The following eloquent remarks were a part
of the Rev. C. W. Howard’s admirable address
at the Athens Fair—copied from the Southern
Cultivator:
It will aid in the attainment of this end (the
giving permanence to our population) if in addi
tion to making our lands more valuable, we ren
der the Homestead more attractive. Not even
the savage is insensible to beauty. A percep
tion of it is as natural to man as any other of his
perceptions. It may be dulled or perverted,
but, like the moral sense, it can hardly be des
troyed. The beauty of an innocent child is some
times the sternest rebuke to tho criminal bent
upon crime. The surpassing loveliness of woman
often subdues the most rugged nature of men.
When the glorious sun, preceded by his gorge
oue heralds of illumined mist and cloud rises
from his morning’s couch, or sinks, “ like a wea
ried giant,” to rest at eventide drawing around
him the sable curtains of night—when
night herself, stilly, placid, serene, extends
her starlight canopy over the sleeping world—
when gentle spring has smiled away stern win
ter and covered the earth with her green car
peting, varied and bedecked with her flower
hues, inimitable by artist's skill, lie is less than
man whose soul, amid such scenes, is not pene
trated with the sense of beauty. Simply natu
ral beauty oftew presents itself with irresistible
power to tho natural sense of man. It is the
response of one portion of nature to the perfec
tion of another portion of the handiwork of the
Great Architect. But if we connect the moral
or spiritual with natural beauty, things lovely
in themselves become, by the union, still more
lovely and are invested with the charm which a
holy sentiment creates.
A peaceful, tasteful country Home is an object
of interest, even to the incurious traveller. The
perfume ot flowers, the over-arching tree, the
well-trimmed hedge, the velvet and verdant
lawn, the vine embowered cottage, arrest, for a
moment, his journey, compel his attention, induce
him to forget the dusty road, his aching limbs
and wearied steed. ‘ The wrinkled brow is
smoothed, the careworn countenance is lit up
with genial good-humor, for the scene before
him, by inevitable association, has brought to
him cheering thoughts of home and the loved
ones there. Such scenes are the gleams of
sunshine, by which a kind Providence allows
the sombre hue of human life to be enlivened.
The same scene may become a thousand fold
more attractive by associations connected with
it. If those that we love have been the agents
in creating the beauty which pleases, the affec
tions of the heart are united with the percep
tions of the sense and give rise to an attachment
which it is difficult to extinguish.
Where good sense directs and prudence con
trols expenditure, it is virtuous to embellish our
Homes. The opinion is thus qualified, as those
who advocate ornament, are sometimes inclined
to overlook utility. We should not forget the
advice of Lord Bacon, who says: “ Leave the
goodly fabric of houses, for beauty alone, to the
enchanted palaces of the poets, who build them
with small cost.”
It is practicable to unite beauty with utility in
the arrangement of our habitations. In truth
there is “ a fitness in things ” which require the
union of both to give perfection to either. When
this union occurs, it is no exhibition of idle taste,
but an adornment of nature often followed by
valuable moral results. We abandon, without
regret, tho ill-shaped, crazy and comfortless cab
in, around which tho bare earth burns under the
fiery sun, or rank weeds pollute the* air with
poisonous odors. But it is a very difficult thing
to contemplate the abandonment of a comforta
ble home which our own hands or the hands of
those we love have labored appropriately to
adorn. It is a- meditated violence to nature. It
is a laceration of the affections. It is an inter
ruption of our pleasant memories. It breaks the
continuity of the life. It is, in a sense, a deser
tion of those who have gone before us and now
appear to us sensibly in these mute witnesses
to their tasteful industry. It contemplates the
sacreligous hand of the stranger, tearing, mang
ling and defacing those beauties to which we
have paid an almost religious regard.
With what delicate but truthful sense of these
strong feelings of our nature does Milton place
upon the lips of our common mother, the
words of her lament on leaving Paradise —
“ O Elowers!
That never will In other climates grow—
* My early visitation and my last
At even, which I bred up with tender care,
From the first opening bud and gave ye names!
Who now shall rear you to the sun, or rank
Your tribes and water from the Ambrossil Fount }"
How many gentle descendants of Eve have
been inclined to utter the same lament when, not
the “flaming sword,” but the love of gain in
those to whom their will is subordinate, compels
them to leave the Paradise they have created
and abandon it to tho ruthless stranger? It of
ten occurs, even among men, that the finer feel
ings connected with home associations overpow
er the sordid desires. Healthful sentiment con
quers unrighteous mammon. Tho tendrils of af
fectionate remembrance not unfrequently hold
with greater tenacity than tho strong grasp of
principle. Thus our delicate emotions become
more potent for good than even the dictates of a
cold calm judgment.
It is fortunate that wealth is not necessary in
the creation of this attachment to home. The
cottage may be as attractive to its humble in
mate as the costliest villa to its lordly possessor.
The humblest dwelling may be the centre of as
strong attachment as the proudest mansion, and
there may be equal reluctance to leaving our
“ father's house,” whether it be cottage or man
sion.
While, then, we enrich our land 3, let us not
forget this minor indeed, but still valuable aid in
securing permanence to our population.
Then, make the Homestead beautiful 1 Make
it beautiful within. Let good books dispense to
XKK SOtrXKK&Jk HX£l>» ASH SX&XSXHK.
its inmates, from their affluent stores, the price- 1
less treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Let j
sweet music lift up its voice and make glad the
hearts of those who hear. Let contentment dis
place anxious care. Let subjected wishes,
thoughtful concessions, accordant tempers and
mutual forbearance, banish discord and so unite
the family that, though many, they shall be one.
Let love unfeigned to God and man, so light up
the dwelling that hateful vice, impatient of the
light, shall flee, abashed, to its congenial dark- I
ness. So shall the Homestead be beautiful with
in.
Make it beautiful without. Young man, lend
to this holy purpose the strength of your stal
wart arm. Nothing can be more manly. They
are coarse and unmanly natures which under
value gentle sentiment. Let it be yours to per
form those acts which, by weaker hand, are in
capable of accomplishment. Plant the stately
forest tree around the dwelling. ■ If God spares
your life, you will sit under its shade in old
age, when both yourself and this nursling of your
hands have been battered by the storms of many
winters.
Matron and maidens of the household, plant ,
vines and shrubs and flowers. “ And as the
breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (whence
it comes and goes like the warbling of music)
than in the hand,” let the perfume of the rose
and jasmine and violet, and the thousand floral
beauties of the sunny South breathe around you
in spring and summer and autumn. Let the un
fading evergreen rob wiuter of his chill, by en
vironing the dwelling with perennial verdure,
while the rest of earth is bare and desolate.
Old man, fill each proper place with its appro
priate fruit trees—“ the graceful legacy of old
age to posterity”—a legacy at once a utility and
an ornament. How can the troubling hands of
age be more suitably employed ? What more
ornamental than the tempting fmit pendant from
the boughs of the well-trimmed tree ? If the
“ silver cord be loosened or the golden bowl be
broken,” ere you may taste the produce of your
labors, or your eyes be gladdened by the beauty
you have created, when you are gone your chil
dren and your children’s chilren will bless his
thoughtful hand who remembered those who
were to come after him.
A well established farm, in whose conduct
good order reigns—where “science and practice”
are* followed with that numerous and beauteous
offspring which always attend their union—
whose kiudly soil, grateful for the husbandman’s
care, returns to him, from year to year, more
than it receives—whose progressive improve
ment teaches us that we have but begun to learn
the fullness of Nature's exhaustless stores—upon
whose verdant pastures the bounding colt and
lo'wiu kine and blatant sheep rejoice each after
its fashion as God made them—whose meadows,
glistening with the dew drops, are vocal with
the carol of birds warbling their thanks for the
deep shelter of their nests under the tall grass,
and with the babling of the brook, shining in
the sunbeam like silver, as it merrily dances
down its rocky bed towards the quiet river—
whose fields wave with wheat, oppressing by
its weight the bending stalk, or are clothed with
the deeper than emerald verdure of the majestic
corn, or are honored by that royal plant, that
king of the purity and pacific nature of whose
reign this garb of snowy whiteness is an appro
priate emblem —and whose habitation, simple,
elegant, home-like, lifts its modest front close by
the spring—such a farm is an anchor to the
children of the household. They become, as it
were, children of the soil. To them it is almost
animate, by hallowed remembrances, by mem
ories by innocent employments and by transfu
sion into its elements of a portion of the mind of
those to whom, for generations, it has been a
thoughtful care stern necessity alone will
suffer it to become the heritage of the stranger.
If this just regard lie paid to Home beauty and
comfort and value, when our sons, prompted by
the restless spirit of change, or impelled by the
desire of more rapid accumulation, shall think of
the fertile west and then cast their eyes aruond
them, it will shame them that they have con
templated self-expatriation.
We may imagine one of them under the influ
ence of these feelings to exclaim, “ My home, my
happy home, my much loved home, my Georgia
home, I cannot leave thee. These now fertile
lands, my father rescued from sterility. These
flowers my mother and my sisters planted—
these bowers their hands entwined. Here my
infancy played. Here my erring boyhood was
deterred from vice by my father's counsels, and
won to virtue by my mother's smiles. I cannot
leave thee. Here will I live and here will Ibe
buried. ‘God do so to me and more also if
aught but death part me and thee.’ ”
MR. MECHI’S FARMING- YIPTREE HALL.
Mu. L. 11. Tucker, of the Counti-y Gentleman,
thus describes his visit to Tiptree Hall, the fa
mous farm of Alderman Mechi. of London:
I visited Tiptree Hall the last of June, and saw
so much more than seemed to me of real, practi
cal value, than I had been led to anticipate, that
I hope what I can say here will not entirely fail
to convey some of the lessons which Mr. Meehi
has been endeavoring to teach. At the same
time let me disclaim the anticipation of present
ing anything like a perfect detail of his opera
tions —a task which, so far I know, remains to
be performed. For the “ Sayings and Doings ”
of the Alderman, consist of his scattered writings
from time to time, unavoidably containing more
or less repetition; representing too, in some de
gree his changes of views with additional expe
rience, but lacking in the connectedness that
would render these changes features of still
greater value in the progress of a perfectly rele
vant and straight-forward tale.
“ I may be asked,” says Mr. Mechi, “ 1 What
can you, as a Londoner, know about farming?'
I will answer, ‘I always loved the lieauties of
nature, the pure air of heaven, the sports of the
field, and the hospitality of our honest yeomen.
I have seen one farmer making a fortune, and his
next neighbor losing one. I have seen one field
all corn, and another all weeds.’
“ I asked, 1 How is this ?’—inquired into the
causes—noted the results—obtained from all the
best farmers, and all the best agricultural books
within my reach, every information bearing on
agricultural pursuits, and practiced in my own
little garden, on a small scale, a variety of expe
riments.”
Carrying forward upon his new property these
experiments —agitating continually the necessity
of certain improvements—if not m his own way,
by some other means—of which he thought Eng
lish farming pecuuiarly capable. —his sentiments
have progressed through different stages of rid
icule and hostility until it is now commonly
granted that while very few may wish to pro
ceed upon his system exactly, he haSVet done a
good work in stirring up the many to direct mea
sures of advancement. He has certainly been
most liberal in the expenditure of his money in
such away as to test how far others may ven
ture safely; and he has presented an example
which in notoriety as well as from its intrinsic
merits, must have been exceedingly effective.
Moreover, as it was remarked to me in conversa
tion by a large farmer in one of the midland
couuties. his efforts have opened the door to him
of associations which in England money does
not buy. Mr. Mechi, the widely advertised ven
der of razors and razor-strops—Mr. Mechi, the
wealthy Alderman, might have gone down to
the grave with other dealers in fancy wares and
consumers of turtle soup, but Mr. Mechi, the far
mer of Tiptree Hall, is invited to Sir Robert
Peel’s, with lords “of high degree," and comes
to be looked upon, as he mournfully sayshimself
in bewailing the responsibilities and “miseries”
of the position—in the light of “a public im
prover." *
ABOUT CATTLE FEEDIXG.
“ The quantity of meat made on a farm per acre, de
termines the quantity of corn growp."
“ Mr. Laves lias shown beyond a doubt that there is
no way of obtaining manure so cheaply as by feeding
animals.”
It chanced that Mr. M. was not himself at
home, but I found the steward or bailiff, Mr.
Drane, an intelligent and communicative man.
The first turn we took, very appropriately brought
us into the feeding stables. Appropriately—be
cause the feeding of animals is entitled to a front
rank among the improvements we must more
extensively practice, and because while many of
the most peculiar, and to some obnoxious feat
ures in Mr. M.’s system here meet the visitor at
once, he may also learn in what he sees, the
general importance of careful management, the
economical use of feeding materials, the benefit
of comfortable quarters, and probably the strong
est arguments that can be anvanced, in favor of
stall feeding in summer as well as in winter.
The building which we now enter is of suffi
cient width for one row of stalls or boxes, and
an alley in front of them from which to feed.
The size of the boxes is nine feet nine inches in
side breadth, and eight feet length, exclusive of
the manger—each designed for two bullocks.
The manger is a simple box or trough, and re
ceives all the food the cattle eat. So far there
is nothing extraordinary in what we see, but the
floor is certainly a surprise! It is composed of
slats of good sound deal or other timber, three
inches by two in size and two or two and a half
inches apart. The animal has no bedding of any
kind. “ There is nothing pleasing to the grazier's
eye,” as Mr. M. remarks, in such an arrange
ment. Indeed, like others, he had at first many
prejudices against it. Both men and animals
like a soft place to sleep on. When bullocks
are first put into these bozes, they seem “ afraid
to move,” and for twenty-four hours, nine out of
ten “ resolutely maintained their standing. ”
Just a forkful of straw, however, spread about
under them, seemed to overcome this “ sense of
insecurity,” and they only required one resort to
this expedient. Physicians tell us, reasons our
' host—that a hard bed is undoubtedly the most
i healthy. In this case the edges of the boards,
| at first new and sharp, in two or three weeks
become smooth, and the animals find easy posi
tions. This floor is, I think, perfectly horizontal
and the slats placed, not across the box, but
j longitudinally as the animal stands. They are
! also used, however, and with results represented
1 as similarly satisfactory,[both for pigs and sheep.
Mr. Iluxtable is the author of the boarded floor
system, but Mr. Mechi has modified the details,
and, after trial and measurements of tho hoofs of
various animals, has concluded upon the follow
ing as the best size of slats :
For bullocks. 3 inches thick, 4 inches wide, \% in. apart.
For sheep and pips, 1# do 8 do do
For lambs* small pigs, IX do 8 do 1 do
For calves, 2 do 3 do 1% do
The result of putting two bullocks together is
not found to retard their progress in flesh-mak
ing—the better ox, as elsewhere, will be the
master, but not to the injury or discomfort of his
associate. They are all groomed daily by a boy
—a process which appears to contribute much
to their enjoyment. The floor, although not
swept, is always clean; a little gypsum (plaster)
is sprinkled over it every morning- about a peck
to ten bullocks.
ECONOMY IX SAVIXO THE LITTER.
The great advantage claimed for this system,
aside from the assertion that it actually contrib
utes to better the health of the animal and the
quality of its beef—is the saving both of the bed
ding and of the labor that accompanies its dis
tribution, removal, and the subsequent manage
ment of the manure, of which last we will speak
by and by. All the straw is wanted for feed.
As Mr. Horsfall argued when I visited his place,
the straw when used for litter is only of value
as a contribution to the manure-heap; when it
is fed to tbe animal, those parts which in the
dung-pit would ferment and escape, are precise
ly the ones which the animal converts into its
own tissue, while the mineral elements which
it does not make use of, remain for fertilizing
purposes as before. Now the value of straw
simply as manure, is computed by Mr. Mechi to
be not above $2.33 per ton, (9s. 4d.) while for
feed it is worth to him $5, or more than double
as much. This difference is one which he does
not think he can afford to lose, for he calculates
upon a production of two tons of straw per acre,
and a loss of, say $5 per acre, on fifty acres of
wheat, will go a good way toward the difference
between farming at a profit and fanning at a
loss.
The pains taken to illustrate and verify these
facts, show to what economical minuteness, so
to speak, the English farmer has been compelled
to go in order to sustain the gainfulness of his
calling under those numerous expenses with
which he is burdeued by government, church
and landlord, and notwithstanding which he has
accomplished the grand triumph of so far com
peting successfully with all the restol the world
—the cheap labor of the continent and the cheap
lands of America. With us, where we have dif
ficulty to bring our farmers into the way of con
verting their straw into manure, to go beyond
this use into a calculation of its further value as
food, seems almost a waste of words. But such
will not always remain the case where it is so
at present, and the subject may not be univer
sally disregarded even now. From Voelker’s
analyses, alluded to by Mr. M., he derives the
statement that the soluble fattening substances
contained in each 100 lbs. of straw are equal to
IS$ lbs. of oil. How. then, he asks, can it have
been so long disregarded ? “ Simply because
the straw in an unprepared condition, is not in
an available condition for food.”
Before proceeding to the method of prepara
tion advocated, there is a difficulty to be dispos
ed of, which may already have arisen in the
reader's mind. In casting our eyes about the
building we were looking at, we merely noticed
the floor but did not go below it; and the ques
tion that at once occurs, is this —how is the ma
nurial matter we obtain, to be managed and
transported without some such material as straw
to act as an absorbent, and give it greater cohe
sion ? The answer is two-fold—the first, not
* After speaking of the thousand questions with which
eager Inquirers prey upon his time, and of tho resort to
him by inventors without number for tho means of in
troducing their schemes, he adds as a set-off, in tho “con
sciousness of having been of some servieo ” to his coun
try, the -‘pleasing recollection that tho two American
Reapers were first tried” on his farm, in 1851. “ Then,
they were wondered at; note Messrs. Burgess * Key
alone arc preparing to make fifteen hundred for use in
1559.”
strenuously insisted upon by Mr. M.. although
it has been one of the most striking features in
his management, while the second he also em
ploys, I believe, to a large extent.
Beneath the slats on which we have been
standing, there runs along a tank about three
feet u> depth, of brick, laid in cement and water
tight, its two ends having a slight descent to
wards the middle, whence there passes a pipe
or drain into a large outside tank of no less than
80,000 gallons capacity. Mr. Mechi’s way is to
admit a flow of water into the tank under tho
animals until its contents are diluted and liqui
fied so as to pass wholly into the exterior cis
tern. The hose ’employed for this purpose, in
hot weather may be used also to wash the whole
interior of the building and keep everything, ev
en to the animals themselves, clean and cool.
The existence of such a mass beneath them, does
not prove in experience to emit the putrefying
stench that might be anticipated; when undis
turbed indeed, it forms so dense a mass that suf
ficient air cannot penetrate it to produce the fer
mentation that would take place with the pres
ence of straw to lighten up the heap and permit
tho admission and circulation of the atmosphere;
and when the water flows in, the whole is wash
ed away at the least possible disagreeableness
and expense.
THE USE AXD MAXUFACTURE OF BURXED CLAY.
The other method of managing manure in this
condition, is found in the use of burned day.
Upon tho heavy soils of Steuben, Major Dickin
son has been an advocate of burning sods to use
the ashes as a fertilizer, but it is quite a common
thing in many parts of England now to burn the
simple soil itself—of course whatever vegetable
matter it may contain being considered a wel
come addition, but the great point lying in the
conversion into an available supply of mineral
matters, of the hard subsoil and other clods —in
themselves sometimes actually poisonous to the
plant, although when reduced to brickdust at
once rendered “ attractive, absorbent, filtrative,
instead of being, as formerly, sullenly unaltera
ble and repulsive.” Good farmers use it to ad
vantage, drilled with their turnips; spread broad
cast over a field, it is found lasting in its effects
—apparently sinking “gradually down into the
obstinate subsoil,” and imparting to it something
of its own permeability. The inorganic elements
contributed to the soil by the animal life of eve
ry sort under or upon it, for which it has long
been “ tho feeding-ground, the dung-heap and
the grave;” tho stones that lock up in their hard
sides so many of the same materials which give
the straw its glaso and stiffness, and the grain its
phosphates; the germs of new weeds and the de
caying remains of old vegetation, by this trial of
fire are all converted at comparatively little cost
or trouble into either what is actually available
as plant food, or what exerts the best effect upon
the mechanical condition of the ground.
One chief resource with English farmers for
clay to burn, is the same as that I found employ
ed by Major Dickinson in his farming alluded to
above, viz., the road-sides and the margins of
fields —especially the former. Mr. Mechi has in
this way, he somewhere states, lowered his
road-sides so as to effect at the same time the
desired convexity and drainage of the road bed.
He breaks up the strip to be burned in very dry
weather, he says, in writing to the Royal Socie
ty’s Journal of the method taken with some very
poor, cold, tenacious clay, occasionally contain
ing pebbles, which, notwithstanding its almost
entire lack of vegetable matter, was still used
with “decided advantage” for wheat, young
clover and roots. In burning, the small quanti
ty of vegetable matter it did contain, appeared to
concentrate in the clods to a black center, and
they were changed in color from yellow to a pale
red or orange, on the exterior. It requires
great power to break up this stiff soil. The
rough masses into which it is purposely torn, are
piled up by hand about a nucleus of “ dried
stumps or wood of sufficient solidity to maintain
a body of heat.” Then a barrow is used in feed
ing the pile, and subsequently a one-horse cart.
It is important to supply tho fire fast enough
“ to prevent its burning through and yet avoid
overlaying it, which might exclude all air and
put it out.”
“ Practice will indicate the medium. When the fire
shows a tendency to break through, the outside of the
burning mass is raked down, and more earth added.
If the ground is very dry, and no rain falls, the men
are obliged to feed the'lire almost continually night and
day; but when there is moisture, it may be left for five
or six hours, but seldom longer.
Something depends on the current of air. A strong
wind would blow the fire from one side and out at the
other. This is guarded against by placing hurdles in
terlaced with straw as a guard to "windward.
The size of a heap is limited by the height to which a
man can throw up the soil, and. of course the diameter
must be proportioned to the height, to prevent its slip
ping down. It isgenernlly lighted so ns to burn out by
Saturday, and not require Sunday attendance.
This mode of burning may be essentially called sum
mer burning, because we find practically that heavy
rains put out the fires, or check their progress. Where
fuql is abundant, or coal cheap. I have reason to believe
fires may be kept up through the winter.*’
Now the burned clay may be employed to the
best advantage with tho manure under the
boarded floors, and is cheaply obtained in large
quantities—the estimated cost per 100 loads of
27 cubic feet each, being,
For labor and burning $10.84
For fire wood 2.08
For plowing and horse labor 2.08
Total $16.00
«
That is 16 cents a load. It is strongly recom
mended for use under sheep, only one-fourteenth
part of their excrement being in solid form,while
one barrowful of clay daily to twenty sheep will
preserve the remainder perfectly. “ Sheep do
not get sore feet upon it” The only purpose,
remarks Mr. M., with which we turn over and
manipulate our ordinary manure heaps, is to se
cure the proper decomposition of the straw they
contain ; manure mixed with burned clay is car
ried at once from the farmstead to the field and
applied where wanted. *
Another week we will return again to the
buildings where there yet remains much to be
looked into.
DISEASES OF THE HORSE AND MULE.
Yery few of the diseases so common to the
horse would often occur, were it not for a pre
existing unhealthiness of the system. And this
unhealthiness is generally the result of the
wretched treatment the horse has to endure in
certain quarters. Some farmers seldom, if ever,
have a sick or diseased horse, while others are
as seldom free from them. The difference arises
entirely from the different manner of treatment.
The well horse is not often the subject of sudden
and violent attacks: nor with proper care are
they the subjects of seated or chronic disease.
Sudden attacks argue pre-existing disease, and
unfortunately, but few horses are ever allowed !
entirely to recover from them or their effects.
Through want of reflection or an unpardonable
carelessness on the part of the managers of the
horse, as soon as the violent spasms of disease
pass off, they consider him well, and he is put to
hard work and high feed long before his weak
ened and debilitated constitution will justify it—
and thus the effects of a disease, the feverish ir
ritability and soreness that might have been re
moved, by proper treatment and attention, be
comes a permanent, seated, and sometimes a
chronic diseese.
Gentlemen have often said to us, that they
did not see why they should have so much dis
ease amongst their stock; they fed as well as
others, gave plenty to eat, etc. We did not
doubt their word, as to the plentifulness of their
feeding, but as to the judiciousness of it, and its
being well regulated, we have our doubts. In
fact we are satisfied that plentiful feeding may
be the very worst of management. How care
ful our physicians for the human patient are, if
he is feverish and there exists much irritation in
the system, to restrict his diet, and be careful
that nothing be takten into the stomach of a
gross nature, that will at all increase the irrita
tion already set up. And what will lie thought
of the physician that would order as the diet of
his patient—suffering under a slow and undeter
mined fever—fat bacon and other gross food ?
Would he not have the best reasons to expect a
dreadful and malignant type of the disease to
soon develop itself, and death the result? And
such will be the case precisely with the horse
treated iu the same way; the only possible dif
ference will be in the superior ability of the
horse system to resist disease. Thousands of
horses are yearly destroyed by this same process
—high feeding. Throw the corn in to him—as
the expression is—is the rule, and but few seem
to know or permit any variation from it This
practice is of doubtful propriety at any time;
but in cases of disease, though even in its inci
pient stage, it is entirely ruinous. There are
but few alas 1 but very few that profess to know
anything about the disease of the horse, or are
able to detect ‘hem in their commencement,
which is the proper time to remove them. If
they eat well t.iey generally suppose that lie
must be well, wide it is a noted fact that the
horse, in nearly all cases of his diseases, has a
very strong and often a voracious appetite. Over
feeding them is one of the most fruitful causes
of disease in the l.orse. But a glance at certain
stables; their unwliolesomo condition; wet,
cold, and sometimes muddy and filled with offen
sive manure, the horse exposed to the cold rain
through the day, and put up in these miserable
pens through the nigli v , with plenty of corn and
musty fodder, and no c irrycomb—worked hard
and treated still harder; and we find no difficul
ty in accounting for all tie cases of hots, cholic,
big-head and jaw-spavin, founder, mange, sur
feit, stiff complaint, and» hundred and one
other malignant forms of disease that occur in
our country. We would not say that there
would be no diseases in horses only from bad
treatment. There would be, we are satisfied,
but little—of a very mild type—and that too
mostly the result of accident.
One other cause of injury to the horse we
shall mention in this communication, is tho very
general practice of putting a diseased horse to
do the work of ti well ono, or a weak horse to do
the work of a strong one, exercising no discrim
ination as to the ability of the horse, and re
quiring more of him than lie is capable of per
forming. Many horses are being destroyed by
this process. They givo out in a short time,
and become permanently broken down. When,
if put to light labor, such as they were able to
bear, and treated kindly, they would, in all pro
bability, do good service for a number of years.
We will now give a few cases of disease and
death from improper management. Mr. 8., of
Bedford county, had last spring a fine mare with
a young colt. Needing her services she was ‘
put to the plow when the colt was but a few
days old. In the evening of a warm day in the
spring, there was a very strong appearance of
rain, and the marc was taken, dripping with
perspiration, to the house, and turned in the
yard, where she eat voraciously of the common
3'ard plantain, standing out all the time in a very
cold rain. At night she was put up in the
stable and fed with sixteen ears of corn, all of
which she ate. She was soon taken sick, as
might have been expected, and died very soon
afterwards. A gentleman in the neighborhood,
who was present with many others, wished to
satisfy himself of the cause of her death. lie
therefore cut her open. (All present had pronoun
ced it a case of bets.) And from him we ob
tained the following account: The stomach was
dreadfully ruptured, tom entirely open, so were
the small bowels, and in some few places the
large ones. The diaphragm also was rent or
tom asunder, and such had been the awful
throes of agony she had endured, and her con
tortions of body so great and violent, that the
small bowels and a part of the large one were
actually ejected, or forced through this opening
in the diaphragm, and were lying loose in the
cavity of the chest next to the heart and lungs.
The food in tho stomach, of which there was an
unreasonable quantity and entirely undigested,
was as cold as if dipped in ice water. But few
bots were found in the stomach, and they lying
entirely loose amongst the food apparently dead.
Now the facts iu this case were without doubt
these: The mare had been feverish for some
time—this the gentleman in question told me he
knew to be the case—she had been put to work
too soon after her time of foal, before she was in
a condition to bear it. Eating the green cold
plantain and standing out in the rain, undoubt
edly produced a chill. And about the time that
the fever rose to the highest, eating a large quan
tity of corn, brought on a terrible conjestion,
which was the cause of death. And her epi
taph is that of thousands—Killed by imprudence
end improper management of her owners. And
such cases or similar ones are constantly occur
ing all over our country. If not resulting in
death, yet in disease that is with difficulty, if
ever removed.
One case more, and we close this article. Dr.
N., of Tullalioma, had his riding horse taken
very sick, and came very near dying. In fact,
so bad had he been that he had beaten the skin
almost entirely off his hips, the sides of his
head and chest. And we were told by his
owner, that at one time he would not have given
one dollar for him. But by judicious treatment,
and preventing others from murdering him with
their drenches, he was finally' relieved, but still
remains in a pitiable condition.
So little attention is paid to the condition of
the horse by the great mass of owners in our
country, our object is to arouse attention to this
subject on the part of the owners and dealers in
horses generally; and also an acquaintance with
the Anatomy and Pathology of the horse system
seas to be prepared to treat successsfully these
cases, if they should occur, but more especially
to take measures to prevent their occurrence,
which is by far the best policy.—[Robt. Stewart,
in NasliviUe Sines.
——• f ——
Specific fok Bugs on Vines. —Having seen
by your paper that many truckers iu your sec
tion are anxious to ascertain a simple and sure
remedy to destroy bugs on squashes, cucumbers
and the like, I will give you one which is almost
a specific, and within the reach of every one,
especially those living on the seaboard.
Procure fresh sish —of any kind whatever,
the commonest and cheapest just as good—a
sufficient quantity, according to circumstances,
say one peck to a barrel of water. Let them
stand therein a day or two, in order to commence
247