140 RABIES. 



A terrier, ten years old, had been ill, and refused all food for three days. 

 On the fourth day he bit a cat of which he had been unusually fond, and 

 he likewise bit three dogs. I was requested to see him. I found him 

 loose in the kitchen, and at first refused to go in, but, after observing him 

 for a minute or two, I thought that I might venture. He had a peculiarly 

 wild and eager look, and turned sharply round at the least noise. He often 

 watched the flight of some imaginary object, and pursued with the utmost 

 fury every fly that he saw. He searchingly sniffed about the room, and 

 examined my legs with an eagerness that made me absolutely tremble. 

 His quarrel with the cat had been made up, and when he was not other- 

 wise employed he was eagerly licking her and her kittens. In the excess 

 or derangement of his fondness, he fairly rolled them from one end of the 

 kitchen to another. With difficulty I induced his master to permit me to 

 destroy him. 



It is not every dog, that in the most aggravated state of the disease 

 shows a disposition to bite. The finest Newfoundland dog that I ever saw 

 became rabid. He had been bitten by a cur, and was supposed to have 

 been thoroughly examined in the country. No wound, however, was found: 

 the circumstance was almost forgotten, and he came up to the metropolis 

 with his master. He became dull, disinclined to play, and refused all food. 

 He was continually watching imaginary objects, but he did not snap at 

 them. There was no howl, nor any disposition to bite. He offered him- 

 self to be caressed, and he was not satisfied except he was shaken by the 

 paw. On the second day I saw him. He watched every passing object 

 with peculiar anxiety, and followed with deep attention the motions of a 

 horse, his old acquaintance ; but he made no effort to escape, nor evinced 

 any disposition to do mischief. I went to him, and patted and coaxed 

 him, and he told me as plainly as looks and actions, and a somewhat 

 deepened whine could express it, how much he was gratified. I saw him 

 on the third day. He was evidently dying. He could not crawl even 

 to the door of his temporary kennel ; but he pushed forward his paw a 

 little way, and, as I shook it, I felt the tetanic muscular action which 

 accompanies the departure of life. 



On the other hand there are rabid dogs whose ferocity knows no bounds. 

 If they are threatened with a stick, they fly at, and seize it, and furiously 

 shake it. They are incessantly employed in darting to the end of their 

 chain, and attempting to crush it with their teeth, and tearing to pieces 

 their kennel, or the wood work that is within their reach. They are re- 

 gardless of pain. The canine teeth, the incisor teeth are torn away ; yet, 

 unwearied and insensible to suffering, they continue their efforts to escape. 

 A dog was chained near a kitchen fire. He was incessant in his endeavours 

 to escape, and, when he found that he could not effect it, he seized, in his 

 impotent rage, the burning coals as they fell, arid crushed them with his 

 teeth. 



If by chance a dog in this state effects his escape, he wanders over the 

 country bent on destruction. He attacks both the quadruped and the 

 biped. He seeks the village street or the more crowded one of the town, 

 and he suffers no dog to escape him. The horse is his frequent prey, and 

 the human being is not always safe from his attack. A rabid dog running 

 down Park-lane, in 1825, bit no fewer than five horses, and fully as many 

 dogs. He was seen to steal treacherously upon some of his victims, and in- 

 flict the fatal wound. Sometimes he seeks the more distant pasturage. He 



