frequently, and might be much more easily prevented.

If a list could be made out, for the last seven years, showing the number of deaths from hydrophobia, with the names of the parties, an account of their sufferings somewhat in detail-and of how many wives and children, fathers and mothers, and other relatives must have been thrown into a state of distracting grief and horror, by these dreadful visitations, I should hope that mere shame, not to mention any better feeling, would rouse the community to a consideration of the subject, and make them loudly and successfully call for some effectual regulations to guard against the recurrence of such an accumulation of horrors. These regulations need be but few, short, and simple: but legislative aid would be absolutely necessary to carry them into effect.

They should be framed on the principle, that the keeping of a dog is, in some sort, perilling the lives of the community-and therefore no man should be allowed to do it from mere wantonness; every one who is willing to incur the risk of dying the most horrible of deaths, by having about him so dangerous, though (I admit) so generally faithful a companion, should, for the sake of others, be obliged to state specifically why he does so: I would oblige every one to register his dog, as regularly as he does his taxed cart or his hackney coach; I would not depend upon a tax collected from house to house, which, nine times out of ten, is evaded. Every dog should be registered and numbered; his owner should be obliged to provide a collar for him in all cases, stating the owner's name and address, and the number in which the dog is registered-and the failure in either of these points should be attended with a heavy fine, part

of which should go to informers or parish officers, to stimulate them to exertion in the service of the public.

It appears, from all I have read on the subject, that no care, no precaution, is an infallible prevention of hydrophobia in dogs; though undoubtedly plenty of wholesome food and water will do much. These, however, are seldom cared about by the majority of persons who are, in common language, said to keep dogs; they, in fact, do no such thing as keep them. Go into poor neighbourhoods, and in every filthy street and alley you will find swarms of dogs, many probably altogether without owners, but all of them in an evidently neglected state, and often trying (poor creatures) to make drink of the stagnant puddles, which are usually mere mud rather than any thing else. The great

majority of the owners of such dogs are thieves and blackguards of the lowest description. It is seldom or never that an honest and industrious poor man keeps a dog, unless for some purpose connected with his business; the parish officers, therefore, should have some small reward, from their respective principals, for taking all dogs without collars to a place of safety-and if not claimed within a few days, and the fine paid, such dogs should be destroyed.

These regulations, I think, would be as effectual as they are obvious and simple. But I feel convinced that they must be enforced by some general act of the legislature, to be equally binding on all persons, at all times, and in all places. If the various local authorities are left to legislate for themselves, as has been hitherto the case, some will be negligent, some selfish, some over severe-and their proceedings will be altogether contradictory, and comparatively useless.

In offering these remarks, let me not be met by declamation on the good qualities of the dog in his healthy state. Nobody admires more than I do, what I will venture to call the moral and intellectual properties of this noble animal; and for this very reason (among others more important) I do not wish to see him become not only valueless, but an appalling nuisance, from becoming too common.

Everything not absolutely necessary to existence is valued in proportion to its rarity; dogs, therefore, like diamonds, should be scarce, to be duly appreciated. I must confess, however, that I have no great notion of their utility; it is generally found that thieves and housebreakers know how to quiet them; and much as I esteem the intelligence and faithfulness of the dog, I should not like to keep one without the most urgent necessity, from a feeling of duty to others, as well as fear for myself-as I should not like to marry into a family that I knew to be afflicted with some hereditary disease, however their amiable characters might otherwise make me desire it. If I wanted something to love and to love me, and had no family of my own, I would adopt a poor child instead of a poor dog; and God knows there are, at this moment, thousands of poor children (not to mention their fathers and mothers) who would be happy to toil for the food that is now often given to pampered, and (at best) useless dogs. It is obvious that no man who keeps a dog, even under the most favourable circumstances, can have any positive security, either for himself, his family,

OF

In the city of Vannes, in the province of Bretagne, in France, lived a gentleman of noble family and great wealth; his name was Monsieur de Caerstaing. By his lady Madame de la Valle Blanche, he had two sons, the eldest named Quattresson, the youngest Valfontaine; the former being about twenty-eight years of age, the latter about twenty-three, and both of them accomplished according to their rank.

Valfontaine being on a visit to his uncle in the city of Nantz, became acquainted with a lady of the name of La Pratiere, a young woman of exquisite beauty, and not inferior to him either in birth or fortune. Valfontaine, therefore, took the first opportunity of declaring his passion to this rich heiress, and was by the young lady No. 102.-N. S.

referred to her father. It is needless, perhaps, to mention, that La Pratiere herself was friendly to his addresses.

M. de Pennelle, the father of the young lady, entertained Valfontaine very courteously for two or three days; but when the young man mentioned his business, replied, that he had other views for his daughter. The matter of fact was, that Valfontaine was merely a younger brother, and therefore did not answer the wishes of De Pennelle.

Upon Valfontaine's return to his father's house at Vannes, he acknowledged his love for La Pratiere, and solicited his interposition with her father. He approved of his choice, but did not deem it consistent with his rank to solicit.

now hated him worse than before, as one who had detected him in an act of infamy. La Pratiere, moreover, was still immoveable. In this state of things, he turned his whole mind to revenge. This purpose was still further confirmed by the union of La Pratiere with his brother, De Penelle having at length given his consent.

As soon as he had resolved on the crime, he also resolved on the means.

One of his most disso lute companions was a young apothecary, who attended his family. This young man was as poor as he was profligate. Quattresson proposed to him to poison his brother, offering him a large reward. The villanous apothecary, after some reluctance, agreed to the proposal.

An opportunity was not long wanting to persons so determined on crime. Valfontaine, about six weeks after his marriage, finding his pulse in violent motion, sent for his apothecary, who, having opened a vein in the morning, administered to him at night a composing draught, in which was infused the deadly poison: Valfontaine sunk under its operation before morning. His wife and father were sorrowful in the extreme for the loss of their son and husband; Quattresson, likewise, assumed a melancholy countenance, and, to all but the all-seeing eye of God, seemed to lament the loss of his brother.

Three months were scarcely passed over after this atrocious murder, before Quattresson renewed his suit to La Pratiere, his widowed sisterin-law. She had already some suspicion that Valfontaine had died by the hands of his brother-and these proceedings confirmed her in that notion. Silently praying to the Almighty God to bring about justice in his own due time, she contented herself with a sharp rebuke, and the most absolute and decided

refusal to listen to his conversation. Quattresson still continuing his offensive addresses, La Pratiere at length withdrew from the house of her father-in-law, and sought refuge in that of her father. Her beauty and fortune soon procured her other admirers; and, after a year's mourning, she gave her hand to an honourable and virtuous gentleman of the name of Pont Chausey. Quattresson now vowed that his revenge should equal his former love. He, accordingly, avoided the sight of her as of a noxious animal-and, to extinguish the memory of his passion, gave himself up to all kinds of extrava gance and profligacy.

Quattresson hearing that a poor peasant, of the parish of St. Andrew, about three miles distant from Vannes, had a beautiful daughter, resolved to see her, and to make her the object of seduction. He contrived to call at her father's cottage in one of his hunting excursions. He saw Marietta - saw that her beauty exceeded her reputation, and he resolved instantly to make her his prey. Marietta was only sixteen years of age, and vanity and her mean condition very powerfully seconded the advances of the wicked Quattresson.

To make short of this part of our narrative, Quattresson succeeded with the young and thoughtless Marietta to the full extent of his criminal desires; but as the father and mother of Marietta, though poor, were honest, it became necessary to remove her from their humble roof. Quattresson again succeeded in persuading her to elope, and concealed her in the cottage of one of his father's vassals, about ten miles from Vannes.

Quattresson having now satisfied one brutal passion, returned to another. His revenge against La Pratiere arose in double violence.

(To be concluded in our next.)