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CANINE SUICIDES.

BY LILLIE DEVEREUX BLAKE.

SOME years ago I met an elderly physician of standing and reputation, who, like myself, was fond of dogs. In the course of conversation regarding our several pets he described the sad fate of a black-and tan terrier he had once owned. Jack was a puppy when the doctor bought him, and had the usual puppy trick of tearing to pieces any stray garment or bit of carpet that he could reach. Again and again he was punished for this trick until a reformation seemed to be established.

At this time the doctor lived in a village, having his office in a small building on the main street. One day, after a somewhat long absence, on his return to the office he discovered that Jack had fallen into his old ways again and torn to shreds a valuable rug. The doctor, although a kind-hearted man, was seriously annoyed at the wanton destruction, and wishing to give a lesson that would be remembered, struck the little creature somewhat severely. The dog whined and moaned for some time, and then running to the door, signified that he wished to go out. His master opened the door and returned to his desk.

Some time later, when it was growing dusk, the doctor closed the office to go home. Jack was nowhere to be seen. He called and whistled, but as the dog did not appear, he went on, expecting to find the terrier at the house; but Jack had not returned, and the night passed without news of the wanderer.

The doctor, who was sincerely attached to his little friend, started the next day on a search for him. He enquired at the houses of the neighbors, who knew Jack almost as well as they knew the doctor himself, but it was not until nightfall that he found news of the lost favorite.

Then a lady, who lived remote from the doctor, and therefore had not the personal acquaintance of Jack, reported that she was followed home the night before by a little terrier; that when she reached her door he begged to be taken in, but as she feared that the friends of the dog would miss him, and felt that she had no right to detain him, she drove him away.

Again the doctor went home at nightfall, hoping to find that the truant had returned, only to be disappointed, and on the following morning started on a fresh quest, which presently brought him to a grocery store, and there he learned the fate of poor Jack. The night before he came into the shop seeming weary and travel-worn. The grocer, who knew him, gave him something to eat, which was devoured ravenously, and threw down a coffee sack, on which the dog slept all night. On opening the store in the morning the grocer turned Jack out, bidding him to go home.

The little terrier looked at him wistfully for a few moments, and then, instead of turning in the direction of his master's house, he deliberately trotted out onto a railroad bridge near by, and took his stand upon the track. The grocer and one or two other men shouted to the little animal, but he seemed not to hear. A train was rapidly approaching, and as he did not move, one of the men started to drive the dog away, but he was too late; in another moment the engine and cars swept rapidly by, and the tragedy of poor Jack's life was over.

The doctor declared that this was a genuine and unmistakable case of suicide. The railroad tracks ran through the village, the dog was familiar with the passing of trains and always carefully got out of their way. The doctor believed that on this occasion Jack's action was intentional, that he was afraid to go home lest he should be again beaten; that he felt himself to be homeless and friendless creature, and had deliberately sought death.

At the time when I heard this story I was deeply interested in the earliest of the works of Charles Darwin, and I wrote him a brief account of the case; also adding some points in regard to a pet terrier of my own, who was an instance of the then doubted transmission of mutilations. It was a Skye terrier, and had been born without a tail, its parents and grandparents having had their tails cut off. I received the following letter from Mr. Darwin in reply:

DOWN, BECKENHAM, Kent,

Feb. 18, 1874.

Dear Madame,—I am very much obliged for your kindness in having sent me so

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many curious particulars with respect to animals. Formerly I disbelieved in the inheritance of mutilations, but sufficient facts have now been established to render the extraordinary fact credible. With respect to the suicide of animals, I do not think any one of a sceptical frame of mind will believe in such cases. The dog which was killed on the railroad may have been paralyzed with terror, or been on the point of suffering from epilepsy, to which dogs are liable, and such wild explanation seems to me more probable than that a dog should know what death is, and voluntarily incur it. With many thanks for your kindness, I remain, dear madame,

Yours very faithfully,

CHARLES DARWIN.

Notwithstanding this view from so high an authority, the story of poor Jack lingered in my mind, and as similar stories have from time to time appeared in print, I have collected them.

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