as going abroad
shortly, and would call upon him. In the mean time, he was to take the dog
home, place it where it could do no injury, and in a place whence there
was no possibility of escape. The man touched his hair and retired.

No time elapsed before the author paid his promised visit; and when he did
so, he was pleased to hear the dog was securely confined in that which
ought to have been the front kitchen of the house in which the butcher
resided. To this spot the man led the way, and was about fearlessly to
open the door, when he was entreated to stay his hand. The author listened
at the closed entrance, and from the interior there soon came forth sounds
that left no doubt of the poor creature's real condition. The butcher was
thereupon informed that his dog was mad. The man was at first wholly
incredulous; whereon the writer requested him to look through a chink, and
say how the animal was employed. "He is tearing a piece of wood to pieces,
and munching it as though he were very hungry. Poor thing, I must go to
him! He has taken no victuals or drink these three days." The author
interposed, to prevent the master from fulfilling his humane suggestion.
With much difficulty he was persuaded to wait the turn of events, and not
to unloose the door that night. The next morning the butcher was
thoroughly convinced. Neither he nor his family had been able to get any
rest on account of the dog's cries; and before that day expired, to
anticipate the poor animal's fate, the unfortunate beast was shot.

In this case the dog exhibited no malice, neither did he appear to be
prompted solely by mischief. When the muzzle was first lowered to the
master's boot, the poor animal doubtless was moved to that action by the
irresistible desire natural to the disease. The longing was to bite
something, no matter what; any object must be cooler than the heat that
burnt within the wretched creature's throat and stomach. The teeth were
impulsively prepared to bite, but between the desire and its consummation,
reflection came. The affection natural to the dog acted as a restraint. It
was unable entirely to destroy the prompting of disease, but it turned the
bite which it was prepared to give into a mumble, and the loved master
escaped unhurt.

There is also something which must not be quite overlooked in the habitual
wanderings that, as the disease grows in virulence beyond the dog's
control, causes the animal constantly to leave the home