that are ’pitched,’ or paved with stone, somewhat like London streets, only more roughly, in parts where they would in the rainy season become otherwise impassable; as, in certain places, such roads do exist to the writer’s personal knowledge. ‘People in this country seem to have no idea what a horse’s foot is. They have always seen horses shod, and think they always must be shod, and never will alter the method if they are let alone.’ Thanks, ‘Aberlorna,’ for putting the thing so plainly; it comes so much better from you. Some who think of a horse’s foot only as a lump of horn stuck on to the end of his leg for the purpose of nailing a shoe on to, will be led by you to investigate the nature of the foot of the horse.
‘As to farriers, it is useless talking to them. Take your horses to them, and make them follow out your directions through thick and thin; it is the only way.’ Exactly so; no one could give better advice.
In November, 1878, a correspondent wrote in a contemporary:—‘The argument against horseshoes seemed to me so strong, and the convenience of doing without them so great, that I resolved to try the experiment. Accordingly, when my pony’s shoes were worn out, I had them removed, and gave him a month’s rest at grass, with an occasional drive of a mile or two on the high road while his hoofs were hardening. The result, at first, seemed doubtful. The hoof was a thin shell, and kept chipping away, until it had worn down below the holes of the
