PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

Swine have generally been considered "unclean," creatures of gross

habits, &c.; but these epithets are unjust: they are not, in their

nature, the unclean, gross, insensible brutes that mankind suppose them.

If they are unclean, they got their first lessons from the lords of

creation, by being confined in narrow, filthy sties--often deprived of

light, and pure air, by being shut up in dark, underground cellars, to

wallow in their own excrement; at other times, confined beneath stables,

dragging out their existence in a perfect hotbed of corruption--respiring

the emanations from the dung and urine of other animals; and often

compelled to satisfy the cravings of hunger by partaking of whatever

comes in their way. All manner of filth, including decaying and putrid

vegetable and animal substances, are considered good enough for the

hogs. And as long as they get such kind of trash, and no other, they

must eat it; the cravings of hunger must be satisfied. The Almighty has

endowed them with powerful organs of digestion; and as long as there is

any thing before them that the gastric fluids are capable of

assimilating, although it be disgusting to their very natures, rather

than suffer of hunger, they will partake of it. Much of the indigestible

food given to swine deranges the stomach, and destroys the powers of

assimilation, or, in other words, leaves it in morbid state. There is

then a constant sensation of hunger, a longing for any and every thing

within their reach. Does the reader wonder, then, at their morbid

tastes? What will man do under the same circumstances? Suppose him to be

the victim of dyspepsia or indigestion. In the early stages, he is

constantly catering to the appetite. At one time, he longs for acids; at

another, alkalies; now, he wants stimulants; then, refrigerants, &c.

Again: what will not a man do to satisfy the cravings of hunger? Will he

not eat his fellow, and drink of his blood? And all to satisfy the

craving of an empty stomach.

We know from experience that, if young pigs are daily washed, and kept

on clean cooked food, they will not eat the common city "swill;" they

eat it only when compelled by hunger. When free from the control of man,

they show as much sagacity in the selection of their food as any other

animals; and, indeed, more than some, for they seldom get poisoned, like

the ox, in mistaking noxious for wholesome food. The Jews, as well as

our modern physiologists, consider the flesh of swine unfit for food. No

doubt some of it is, especially that reared under the unfavorable

circumstances alluded to above. But good home-fed pork, kept on good

country produce, and not too fat, is just as good food for man as the

flesh of oxen or sheep, notwithstanding the opinion of our medical

brethren to the contrary. Their flesh has long been considered as one of

the principal causes of scrofula, and other diseases too numerous to

mention: without doubt this is the case. But that good, healthy pork

should produce such results we are unwilling to admit. We force them to

load their stomachs with the rotten offal of large cities, and thus

derange their whole systems; they become loaded with fat; their systems

abound in morbific fluids; their lungs become tuberculous; their livers

enlarge; calcerous deposits or glandular disorganization sets in. Take

into consideration their inactive habits; not voluntary, for instinct

teaches them, when at liberty, to run, jump, and gambol, by which the

excess of carbon is thrown off. Depriving them of exercise may be

profitable to the breeder, but it induces a state of plethora. The

cellular structures of such an animal are distended to their utmost

capacity, preventing the full and free play of the vital machinery,

obstructing the natural outlets (excrementitious vessels) on the

external surface, and retaining in the system morbid materials that are

positively injurious. At the present time, there is on exhibition in

Boston a woman, styled the "fat girl;" she weighs four hundred and

ninety-five pounds. A casual observer could detect nothing in her

external appearance that denoted disease; yet she is liable to die at

any moment from congestion of the brain, lungs, or liver. Any one

possessing a knowledge of physiology would immediately pronounce her to

be in a pathological state. Hence, the laws of the animal economy being

uniform, we cannot arrive at any other conclusion in reference to the

same plethoric state in animals of an inferior order.

Professor Liebig tells us that excess of carbon, in the form of food,

cannot be employed to make a part of any organ; it must be deposited in

the cellular tissue in the form of tallow or oil. This is the whole

secret of fattening.

At every period of animal life, when there occurs a disproportion

between the carbon of the food and the inspired oxygen, the latter being

deficient,--which must happen beneath stables and in ill-constructed

hog-sties,--fat must be formed.

Experience teaches us that in poultry the maximum of fat is obtained by

preventing them from taking exercise, and by a medium temperature. These

animals, in such circumstances, may be compared to a plant possessing in

the highest degree the power of converting all food into parts of its

own structure. The excess of the constituents of blood forms flesh and

other organized tissues, while that of starch, sugar, &c., is converted

into fat. When animals are fed on food destitute of nitrogen, only

certain parts of their structure increase in size. Thus, in a goose

fattened in the manner alluded to, the liver becomes three or four times

larger than in the same animal when well fed, with free motion; while we

cannot say that the organized structure of the liver is thereby

increased. The liver of a goose fed in the ordinary way is firm and

elastic; that of the imprisoned animal is soft and spongy. The

difference consists in a greater or less expansion of its cells, which

are filled with fat. Hence, when fat accumulates and free motion is

prevented, the animal is in a diseased state. Now, many tons of pork are

eaten in this diseased state, and it communicates disease to the human

family: they blame the pork, when, in fact, the pork raisers are often

more to blame. The reader is probably aware that some properties of food

pass into the living organism being assimilated by the digestive organs,

and produce an abnormal state. For example, the faculty of New York

have, time and again, testified to the destructive tendency of milk

drawn from cows fed in cities, without due exercise and ordinary care in

their management, giving it as their opinion that most of the diseases

of children are brought about by its use. If proof were necessary to

establish our position, we could cite it in abundance. A single case,

which happened in our own family, will suffice. A liver, taken from an

apparently healthy sow, (yet abounding in fat, and weighing about two

hundred pounds,) was prepared in the usual manner for dinner. We

observed, however, previous to its being cooked, that it was unusually

large; yet there was no appearance of disease about it; it was quite

firm. Each one partook of it freely. Towards night, and before partaking

of any other kind of food, we were all seized with violent pains in the

head, sickness at the stomach, and delirium: this continued for several

hours, when a diarrhoea set in, through which process the offending

matter was liberated, and each one rapidly recovered; pretty well

convinced, however, that we had had a narrow escape, and that the liver

was the sole cause of our misfortune.

Hence the proper management of swine becomes a subject of great

importance; for, if more attention were paid to it, there would be less

disease in the human family. When we charge these animals with being

"unclean creatures of gross habits," let us consider whether we have

not, in some measure, contributed to make them what they are.

Again: the hog has been termed "insensible," destitute of all those

finer feelings that characterize brutes of a higher order. Yet we have

"learned pigs," &c.--a proof that they can be taught something. A

celebrated writer tells us that no animal has a greater sympathy for

those of his own kind than the hog. The moment one of them gives a

signal, all within hearing rush to his assistance. They have been known

to gather round a dog that teased them and kill him on the spot; and if

a male and female be enclosed in a sty when young, and be afterwards

separated, the female will decline from the instant her companion is

removed, and will probably die--perhaps of what would be termed, in the

human family, a broken heart!

In the Island of Minorca, hogs are converted into beasts of draught; a

cow, a sow, and two young horses, have been seen yoked together, and of

the four the sow drew the best.

A gamekeeper of Sir H. Mildmay actually broke a sow to find game, and to

back and stand.

Swine are frequently troubled with cutaneous diseases, which produce an

itching sensation; hence their desire to wallow and roll in the mire and

dirt. The lying down in wet, damp places relieves the irritation of the

external surface, and cools their bodies. This mud and filth, however,

in which they are often compelled to wallow, is by no means good or

wholesome for them.

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