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3, 1860.] that—when he started up and swore at me, and said, oh! such frightful, frightful words, and then he seized me by the hair, and dragged me about the room—and, let me see, what happened next?—I was so overcome.”

Mrs. Barber, I thought, looked towards my friend Lamb for a suggestion; but that gentleman maintained a rigid silence.

“Oh, yes, I remember: he took a pair of shears, or it might have been a large carving-knife, from the table—for I know there had been a dreadful piece of beef for breakfast—”

Rackem groaned.

—“and he brandished them over my head, and I thought he was going to kill me, and I implored him to let me say my prayers, and kiss baby once more before he did it; but he tore me about the room, and at last he said he knew I was proud of my hair, which was such a story—I only took pains about it, because there had been a time when he used to say he thought it pretty, and I wanted to please him, and now he would cut it off—so he dragged me back, and cut off all my hair.”

“What do you say to this, Rackem?” said Lamb: “awful cruelty!—they can’t have anything to say to that.”

“I could say a good deal to it,” replied Rackem. “I have been accustomed to deal with these incidents from the other point of view. Was any one in the room, Mrs. Barber, when this occurred?”

Mrs. Barber looked towards Lamb, but couldn’t remember. She didn’t like to speak about the maid who was carrying in the breakfast things.

“Did you scream, or call for help? because the alleged cruelty took place in a room in a public hotel, so that you could easily have summoned assistance.”

Mrs. Barber replied eagerly, but was checked by Mr. Lamb, with a “Not so hasty, Ma’am. Every answer is a chess-move.”

“I couldn’t have cried for help; for when Augustus was dragging me about the room my head struck against a console, and I fainted away.”

The two solicitors looked at each other.

“Mrs. Barber must not faint, Rackem; I seldom recommend fainting.”

“No—o—o! not safe, Lamb! it may be necessary to speak to other points of detail.”

“Oh! I don’t mean that I fainted dead away: I turned very sick; but I knew what Augustus was about—of course I did—else how should I know that he called me a horrid minx?”

Lamb smiled at her blandly.

“Your hair seems to have grown again very luxuriantly, madam,” said Rackem.

Mrs. Barber, in a playful way, stroked her remarkably glossy waves of hair, and smiled.

“Perhaps we had better shave the lady,” said Rackem; “it would produce an effect, I think, upon the jury, if at the critical moment Mrs. Barber was to tear off her wig in their faces, and burst into an agony of tears.”

“I’m sure I shan’t,” said Mrs. Barber, “cut off my hair to obtain all the divorces in the world: besides, it would be so naughty—so deceitful!”

Rackem raised his brows, and looked at Lamb. After a moment’s reflection he turned to Mrs. Barber, and said:—

“How do you think, madam, that incident will tell when described thus? You must not be offended with me for putting the matter plainly to you, for it is better you should hear it from me, than for the first time from the counsel cross-examining you. What will the jury think when they are told that your picture of alleged cruelty is a total misrepresentation?—that your husband had taken you to Brussels for your own pleasure, because he always endea- voured to gratify your smallest whim?—that upon one occasion you were sitting in the most luxurious room of the most luxurious hotel of that famous city, he surrounding you, as usual, with every comfort you could desire;—that in a playful mood he stole behind you, having taken your own scissors from your own work-box, and cut off just the end of your hair, enough to garnish a little locket? I will tell you what, Lamb,” concluded Mr. Rackem, emphatically, “were I handling the point for the other side, I would produce the locket in Court with Mr. and Mrs. Barber’s initials interlaced, and with an inscription upon it, of

Thine—

Ever thine! Brussels, such a date.

and I would give the locket to a clerk to wear for a few days under his flannel waistcoat, so as to take off the brightness of the gold. Observe, there is no corroboration on either side. Good morning, Mrs. Barber.”

As Mr. Rackem retired, the door was again opened, and the clerk announced—

“Dr. Dodge!”

is the time to take a last observation, from the life, of an order of men which seems to have passed away—that of individual statesmen who have each a strong leading conviction of the proper way to govern mankind, together with power to work out that conviction in act. There will always be men of that character of mind; and such men will always exert more or less influence in society from the strength of their self-confidence and will: but it seems as if they would not again be found supreme in the sphere of statesmanship—in Europe, at least. Under representative institutions, such men could hardly obtain power in the first place, or retain it in the next: and in empires despotically governed, the ruling princes themselves seem to feel a necessity to do their own statesmanship, as far as the choice of a principle or system of government is concerned. A Walewski in our day cannot hold his ground against the resolute policy of his Emperor: and in Russia, the Czar thinks and acts for himself. When Prince Metternich died, last June, his order of ministers probably disappeared from the eyes of men for ever. As some half-dozen of personages