A horse at a pull is enabled, by the power and direction of his muscles, to throw a certain weight against the collar. If he walk four miles in the hour, part of the muscular energy is expended in the act of walking; and consequently, the power of drawing must be proportionally diminished. If he trot eight miles in the hour, more of that energy is expended in the trot, and less remains for the draught; but the draught continues the same, and, to enable him to accomplish his work, he must exert his energies in a degree so severe and cruel, that it must speedily wear him out. Hence, there is no truth so easily proved, or so painfully felt by the postmaster, as that it is the pace that kills. Moreover, many a horse used on our public roads is unable to employ all his natural power, or to throw his weight into the collar, in consequence of being tender-footed, or lame. Being bought, however, at little price, he is worked on the brutal principle that he may be “whipped sound!”--and so he is apparently. At first he sadly halts; but, urged by the torture of the lash, he acquires a peculiar mode of going. The faulty limb keeps pace with the others, but no stress or labour is thrown upon it; and he gradually contrives to make the sound limbs perform among them all the duties of the unsound one. Thus he is barbarously “whipped sound,” and cruelty is for the time undeservedly rewarded. After all, however, what is done? Three legs are made to do that which was almost too much for four. Of course, they are most injuriously strained, and quickly worn out; the general power of the animal is rapidly exhausted; and, at no remote time, death releases him from his merciless persecutors.