much indignation.

The legislature at its last session, not having wit or honesty enough to
exercise itself over one of a dozen crying evils that were then vexing
the people, got greatly excited over--_dogs_!

Some miserable curs--many affirmed they were wolves, and no dogs at
all--in a remote corner of the state, had killed a few sheep, and the
farmers of that region got up a great scare, and raised a hue and cry
against the whole canine family. It is incredible how much noise was
made over the killing of a few half-starved sheep that were browsing on
those northern mountains! You would have thought, judging by the clamor,
that the fundamental interests of the commonwealth were attacked, and
that the stately structure of government itself was on the point of
falling to the ground.

Well, when the legislature met the excitement was at its height and the
gust of popular foolishness converged all its forces at the capitol. In
due time a bill was reported, and an outrageous bill it was, too, for it
not only put a heavy tax upon dogs in every section of the state, city
as well as country, but provided that certain officers should be
appointed to enforce the law, whose duty it should be to kill every dog
not duly registered on a certain date. Even this was not all; for it
stimulated the enforcement of the law by enlisting the cupidity of men
and boys alike, especially of the lower and hardened classes, by
providing that whoever killed an unregistered dog should be paid three
dollars from the state treasury.

It was a bad law, in truth, for it was the outgrowth of senseless
excitement, and an attempt to tax the affections. Property, of course,