I wish to point out that the ordinary inspectors will, almost to a man, feel that the appointment of special inspectors, in regard to a particular branch of their duties, relieves them from what is a very thankless job. It is only human nature not to want to spy on one’s own kind if one is not absolutely obliged. Under the ordinary system of inspection, the figures for the year 1907 give only twenty-two prosecutions for cruelty to animals, underground, in the United Kingdom. Taking the boys and men employed in mines as average kindly folk, neither more nor less given to cruelty than the rest of us, this number of prosecutions would work out, relatively to opportunity, at extraordinarily below the number of prosecutions above ground. And we can only deduce from this the fact that the conditions in mines are such that acts which above ground would lead to prosecution pass unnoticed underground. I do beg the Home Secretary to reconsider this aspect of the question—that is to say, the certainty that the appointment of special inspectors of animals will in practice bring a feeling of absolution to the ordinary inspector from the duty of reporting on animals. For, if this is admitted, the number of six special inspectors is shown to be ludicrous. It means about two mines a day all the year round for each inspector. Those of us who have been down coal mines know how perfunctory such inspection must be. It is certainly undesirable to multiply officials without due cause; but there really is a point of common sense and compromise which will hardly be reached even if twelve instead of six special inspectors are appointed. The new regulations are admirably wide and directed to bettering the lives of these unfortunate little beasts; for, putting everything at the best, they remain unfortunate compared with their brethren above ground. But these regulations will want a lot of looking after, especially at first, if they are not to be a dead letter. The great bulk of our material comfort comes out of our coal mines; surely we can spare a little more of it than this to guarantee so far as we can the welfare of the ponies. VII THE DOCKING OF HORSES’ TAILS (Foreword to a Pamphlet, 1913.) In the year A.D. 785 the Council of Celchyth—it seems—thus addressed our ancestors: “From the influence of a vile and unbecoming custom you deform and mutilate your horses. . . . You cut off their tails; and when you enjoy them uninjured and perfect, you choose rather to maim and blemish them, so as to make them odious and disgustful objects to all who see them. . . . This you are admonished to renounce.” Thus the Council of Celchyth in A.D. 785. The Council of Westminster in A.D. 1913 has not yet been moved to admonish us, in the only way it can—by law—to renounce this “vile and unbecoming custom” of docking the tails of horses.