182 



NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 



Let the patient be kept extremely quiet, and 

 every gentle effort used to soothe him, and to keep 

 him in good humour with himself ; — but, again 

 I remark, — give no medicines. 



Once, Doctor Sibson and myself, were on the 

 point of applying the wourali. A fine young 

 collier had been bitten by a mad dog, at the village 

 of Ardsley, near Wakefield. 



We had reached the Oakenshaw station, when 

 information arrived that he had breathed his last. 

 We went to see him in his winding sheet. His 

 mother was inconsolable ;— and she wept bitterly as 

 we entered the bouse. She seemed to find relief 

 in talking of the disaster from its commencement 

 to the termination : — and when she had done, she 

 began to cry again, — and sobbed most piteously. 

 4 'His sufferings were long and terrible, and they 

 went to the bottom of her heart. She had never 

 left his bed side. He was the best of lads that 

 ever mother had. She would never see his like 

 again. His loss would carry her to the grave." 

 And then she sobbed piteously and looked at him 

 as he lay, close by, in his winding sheet;— and 

 again she looked at him, and then sank into a chair 

 crying bitterly, and lamenting her loss, in accents 

 that told her utter despair. 



I have now done with dogs. The reader will 



