Chapter 31: A Humbug
"Well," said his master, "I should not like him to take cold;
but I don't like the smell of this stable. Do you think the drains
are all right?"
"Well, sir, now you mention it, I think the drain does sometimes
send back a smell; there may be something wrong, sir."
"Then send for the bricklayer and have it seen to," said his master.
"Yes, sir, I will."
The bricklayer came and pulled up a great many bricks,
but found nothing amiss; so he put down some lime and charged the master
five shillings, and the smell in my box was as bad as ever.
But that was not all: standing as I did on a quantity of moist straw
my feet grew unhealthy and tender, and the master used to say:
"I don't know what is the matter with this horse; he goes very fumble-footed.
I am sometimes afraid he will stumble."
"Yes, sir," said Alfred, "I have noticed the same myself,
when I have exercised him."
Now the fact was that he hardly ever did exercise me,
and when the master was busy I often stood for days together
without stretching my legs at all, and yet being fed just as high
as if I were at hard work. This often disordered my health,
and made me sometimes heavy and dull, but more often restless and feverish.
He never even gave me a meal of green food or a bran mash,
which would have cooled me, for he was altogether as ignorant
as he was conceited; and then, instead of exercise or change of food,
I had to take horse balls and draughts; which, beside the nuisance
of having them poured down my throat, used to make me feel ill
One day my feet were so tender that, trotting over some fresh stones
with my master on my back, I made two such serious stumbles that,
as he came down Lansdown into the city, he stopped at the farrier's,
and asked him to see what was the matter with me. The man took up my feet
one by one and examined them; then standing up and dusting his hands
one against the other, he said: