[* One of Colonel Shepard's equine wrecks was picked up on
Fifth avenue yesterday by the Prevention of Cruelty Society,
and was laid up for repairs. The horse was about twenty-
eight years old, badly foundered, and its leg was cut and
bleeding. It was the leader of three that had been hauling
a Fifth avenue stage, and, according to the Society's
agents, was in about as bad a condition as a horse could be
and keep on his feet. The other two horses were little
better, neither of them being fit to drive.
Colonel Shepard's scrawny nags have long been an eyesore to
Colonel Robert G. Ingersoll, who is compelled to see them
from his windows at number 400 Fifth avenue. He said last
night:]
It might not be in good taste for me to say anything about Colonel
Shepard's horses. He might think me prejudiced. But I am satisfied
horses cannot live on faith or on the substance of things hoped
for. It is far better for the horse, to feed him without praying,
than to pray without feeding him. It is better to be kind even to
animals, than to quote Scripture in small capitals. Now, I am not
saying anything against Colonel Shepard. I do not know how he
feeds his horses. If he is as good and kind as he is pious, then
I have nothing to say. Maybe he does not allow the horses to break
the Sabbath by eating. They are so slow that they make one think
of a fast. They put me in mind of the Garden of Eden--the rib
story. When I watch them on the avenue I, too, fall to quoting
Scripture, and say, "Can these dry bones live?" Still, I have a
delicacy on this subject; I hate to think about it, and I think
the horses feel the same way.
--_Morning Advertiser_, New York, January 21, 1892.