Hydrophobia In 1847

For the Vermont Phoenix.

Is Your Dog Mad? -- Have you a good dog? If so, train him in a gentlemanly way. If you set store by him, learn him good manners. Our village is getting to be quite a Dog-ville. You can hardly pass this way or the other without coming in contact with a long-haired canine, and what is worse than all, they are too fond of showing their ivory.

The first salutation given by some of them is "Boo-hoo-woo," and you are obliged to jump "a feet" or more to avoid a grip. We frequently pass leisurely along our thoroughfares, minding our own particular business, unarmed with any weapon whatever -- not even having about our person a "dog-killer" -- and are frightened and insulted to such a pitch that we actually believe we have missed several years' growth already.

If some of these "varmints" are not broken of their bad conduct, we shall take it in hand to have their "ears cropped," so that the public may know what dogs are more savage than their owners really think them to be.

Perhaps it would be well to have an inscription on their collars, reading as follows: "This dog is the owner of the highway, and you must get over the fence and go around." Such will not be our motto, however. We shall stick for our rights, and if we get bit, we shall roar like thunder. A word to the wise is sufficient.

Rough and Ready

Brattleboro, April 1847

Vermont Phoenix, April 22, 1847.


For the Vermont Phoenix'

Mr Editor:

Somebody in your last paper has undertaken to prejudice the good people of this village against me -- and I know he means me by his saying I "show my ivory." Well, suppose I do "show my ivory," what then? I have no doubt but that the writer, alias "Rough and Ready," would show his, if he had a decent set of teeth.

The God of Nature has given me a full row, white and polished, and I have a right to show them: He says I "boo-hoo-woo." Have I not a right to speak as well as "Rough and Ready?" I talk as well as I know how, which is more than can be said of him.

He says he has to jump a feet to avoid a "grip." Very well -- if any thing will make him exercise his clumsy heels, he may thank his stars for the favor. He says he "walks the streets and minds his own business." I am glad to hear him say so, as he is the first two-legged dog that ever did mind his own business.

I knew a man who made 500 dollars by minding his own business, and 300 by letting other people's business alone! He says I have "frightened him out of several years growth." So I should think, as the use he makes of his pen is trying to bring me into bad odor, shows he is a little below the common stature of most other two-legged bipeds!

In short, I behave as well as I know how; and if every body would do the same, this would be a beautiful world, would it not, Mr Phoenix? Now, "Rough and Ready," don't you feel a "leetle minky?"


Vermont Phoenix, April 29, 1847.

[During the last year the village had suffered fatal erysipelas, smallpox was soon to arrive, and hydrophobia was in the surrounding areas.]

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