The decay of the more showy powers seems to bring forward the gentler qualities of the horse's nature. The animal, which once was dangerous, loses all its dreaded attributes: with paralysis, it becomes meek or tame, as though the big life felt its great affliction and sought to compensate, by amiability, for the trouble it necessarily gave, or, in other words, that the animal was mildly pleading for existence. No doubt much of such a sentiment, if not all, resides in the mind of the spectator, the animal only being subdued by sickness. Still, it is very sad to contemplate the horse, which once could outstrip the sparrow in its flight, reduced to a pace which the tortoise might leave behind; to behold the beast, once powerful and proud of its strength, humbled to a feebleness which the push of any child might overthrow. It is more sorrowful, when we think its hurt was received from him to whom its welfare was intrusted; that its injury was the consequence of an over-anxiety to please and to obey. It may be well doubted whether, when man was given dominion over the beasts of the field, he was invested with an absolute authority over God's creatures, which had no moral duties nor obligations attached to it. At all events, it would be difficult to find an object more suggestive of pity, or better calculated to excite our inward reflections, than a horse suffering under partial paralysis.
Paralysis is generally past all cure; occasionally, however, it admits of relief. It is an eccentric disorder, and it is difficult to say, positively, what medicine will be of use. The horse, however, during paralysis, should enjoy absolute rest. In its disabled state, a little walk is as great an exertion as once was a breathing gallop; and it was over-exercise which induced the disorder. The animal should receive only strengthening physic and the most nourishing of food. The following ball should be administered, night and morning:—
Strychnia, half a grain, gradually, or in six weeks to be worked up to a grain and a half; iodide of iron, one grain; quassia powder and treacle, a sufficiency: to be given night and morning.
The grooming should be persevered with, the animal being carefully dressed twice each day, and the process ending by brushing the quarters thoroughly with a new birch broom. The bed should be ample; the box should be padded and a warm cloth always kept over the loins. A piece of wet flannel, covered with a rug, placed over the lumbar region, has on occasions induced a return of warmth. The bowels should be regulated, if possible, with mashes and green meat; but, when costiveness exists, a pint of oil is to be preferred to even three drachms of aloes. The one exhausts, the other nurtures as well as relaxes the body.
The hope of amendment must, however, be indulged with caution. The disease is of chronic growth, and therefore will be of long duration. At all events, it is not one horse in four which recovers from an attack of partial paralysis; and not one in twenty that is afterward fit for its former uses.
GUTTA SERENA.
Gutta serena is fixed dilatation of the pupillary opening, owing to paralysis of the optic nerve; the affection is, consequently, accompanied by permanent blindness.
The causes of this malady are blows upon the head, quick driving, excessive hemorrhage, stomach staggers, unwholesome stables, poor food, exhausting labor, or anything which may decidedly undermine the constitution.
The majority of these causes are inflicted by man, the remainder are within his control. Any person has but to reflect how very precious eyesight is to mankind. Having settled that point, he has only to conjecture how much more dear it must be to a creature forbid to enjoy the pleasures of conversation. To take away sight, is to deprive the animal of a faculty with which it is endowed to perfection, in some measure to compensate for the absence of reason and the deficiency of speech. A horse can see farther than its master. The human eye is, frequently, dormant, when the thought is active: the healthy, equine eye never rests. The creature sleeps so lightly that very seldom is it caught napping. We may imagine, therefore, the gratification bestowed by an organ so constantly employed. To blind a horse, is to deprive a breathing body of half its life's pleasure. It is more, when we consider the natural disposition of the quadruped: it is to deprive timidity of its watchfulness, fear of its protection. It is even yet more, when we think upon the habits of the horse—its spirits, its pleasure, its joy—all are expressed by means of a gallop. But what speed can the horse indulge in, when cruelty has taken away the power to guide with rapidity? To destroy the horse's sight, is to condemn a creature to live on, but to take from life the gayety of existence.