Moreover, when the frame is exhausted, rest is far more essential than food; the nourishment then should be very light, and such as can be quickly swallowed. A quart of thick flour or of oatmeal gruel should be first offered after the return. When the cleansing of the animal's body is finished, another quart should be given; these will occupy little time in being put out of sight, and the administration need not interfere with the repose which is desired. The gruel being swallowed, a feed of crushed and scalded oats may be placed in the manger; no hay should be allowed; the wish is to sustain a debilitated body, not to blow out an idle stomach. Then the creature should, after being fully clothed, be left to itself, and no more nourishment be provided for that night. The danger of introducing substances into a stomach dead to its functions would thus be avoided; nothing likely to irritate or to operate as foreign bodies upon the bowels would be set before the debilitated horse. Besides, the groom would be obliged to remain up for some space, and, as a good servant always finds time hang heavy when without occupation, the animal is more likely to be dressed before the man retires. Moreover, the clothes would prevent the cold which ensues upon unchecked evaporation. =Constipation=, if permitted to exist for any period, is always dangerous; hardened feces are one of the surest causes of enteritis. Disregarding this fact, the endeavor of the immediate age seems to be to keep horses cheap. Strange mixtures are now substituted for wholesome corn, in which the grain and husk are mingled, the one supporting the strength, the other stimulating the bowels. It is folly to seek for profit from a life, and to stint the nourishment which feeds the strength, or to view cheapness as desirable where the service is unlimited. It is wicked to imprison a living being and then to regard it only in connection with our conveniences; "much care and no spare" is a good stable proverb. The food makes the work; omnibus masters know this fact; their horses perform hard work and eat of the best, however abominably the generality of these slaves were once lodged. The home of a London horse is mostly a miserable hole: heated only by fermentation; too often undrained; nearly always without sufficient ventilation. The stall of such a building is large enough for the animal to stand in and not wide enough for the recumbent frame to rest in; the roof is low, and the refuse of the body is piled near the entrance. When will man learn that his interest is best consulted by the proper observances due to vitality in every form? A horse cannot be treated as though it were a jug; it cannot be placed upon a shelf and taken down when required. The functions which nature has placed within a beautiful and exquisitely framed body will, if thus regarded, soon become deranged. Sickness will soon cost more money than health would have