I have again and again seen the rabid dog start up after a momentary quietude, with unmingled ferocity depicted on his countenance, and plunge with a savage howl to the end of his chain. At other times he would stop and watch the nails in the partition of the stable in which he was confined, and fancying them to move he would dart at them, and occasionally sadly bruise and injure himself from being no longer able to measure the distance of the object. In one of his sudden fits of violence a rabid dog strangled the Cardinal Crescence, the Legate of the Pope, at the Council of Trent in 1532. M. Magendie has often injected into the veins of an hydrophobous dog as much as five grains of opium without producing any effect; while a single grain given to the healthy dog would suffice to send him almost to sleep. One of Mr. Babington's patients thought that there was a cloud of flies about him. "Why do you not kill those flies!" he would cry; and then he would strike at them with his hand, and shrink under the bed-clothes, in the most dreadful fear. There is also in the human being a peculiarity in this delirium which seems to distinguish it from every other kind of mental aberration. "The patient," in Mr. Lawrence's language, "is pursued by a thousand phantoms that intrude themselves upon his mind; he holds conversation with imaginary persons; he fancies himself surrounded with difficulties, and in the greatest distress. These thoughts seem to pass through his mind with wonderful rapidity, and to keep him in a state of the greatest distress, unless he is quickly spoken to or addressed by his name, and, then, in a moment the charm is broken; every phantom of imagination disappears, and at once he begins to talk as calmly and as connectedly as in perfect health." So it is with the dog, whether he is watching the motes that are floating in the air, or the insects that are annoying him on the walls, or the foes that he fancies are threatening him on every side--one word recalls him in a moment. Dispersed by the magic influence of his master's voice, every object of terror disappears, and he crawls towards him with the same peculiar expression of attachment that used to characterize him. Then comes a moment's pause--a moment of actual vacuity--the eye slowly closes, the head droops, and he seems as if his fore feet were giving way, and he would fall: but he springs up again, every object of terror once more surrounds him--he gazes wildly around--he snaps--he barks, and he rushes to the extent of his chain, prepared to meet his imaginary foe.