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10, 1860.] lady’s benefit—the lady consenting—the pretext colourable; at the same time, the presiding Judge let fall a strong expression of opinion that a husband should never venture to perform a surgical operation upon his wife, more especially when he was not inops consilii, but magnas inter opes inops. Had it indeed been the amputation of a limb under circumstances of great pressure it might have been otherwise; but nobody could contend that the change in Mrs. Mapleson’s nose, from a snub to a Grecian, could not have been postponed until such time as regular professional assistance could have been secured. But I am far indeed from saying, my dear Mrs. Barber, that Mapleson and Mapleson goes the length of your nose. It can scarcely be argued, on the other side, that Mr. Barber intended an improvement in your appearance by burning it.”

“Mrs. Barber’s nose is quite a feature in the case,” said Lamb, with a disgusting chuckle; but the lady soon brought him to his senses by the simple process of applying her handkerchief to her eyes. How could any one with a man’s heart and feelings venture to joke at the sufferings of a distressed lady?

Lamb attempted to repair the mischief he had done by various expressions of a soothing character; and that which was, to me, a decisive proof of the vulgarity of the man’s mind was, that he caught hold of her little hand, forced it open, and began tapping on the palm with all the ardour of a monthly nurse. Mrs. Barber was, at that moment, at least five degrees removed from the point at which such a method of treatment is available—though, indeed, it is doubtful if a man’s rude hand can ever administer it with advantage. That blundering, though perhaps well-meaning, solicitor had better look to himself. It would not greatly surprise me if his ears were well boxed within the next thirty seconds, or Mrs. Barber may possibly become perfectly rigid, or else dissolve in a Niagara of tears. Of the three alternatives I should much prefer that her grief took the form of an assault upon Lamb—he is a stout fellow, and blows inflicted by that fairy hand could not hurt very much. Besides, he would have brought it on himself.

Tears won the day. Dr. Dodge and I exchanged glances which meant as plainly as glances could utter it, “Is the time come for thrashing Lamb?” But the injured angel stood between him and his fate. She took his hand quite affectionately.

“Oh! dear Mr. Lamb! I am very, very sure, you didn’t mean anything; but I have undergone so much, and words and little fancies which are nothing to a stranger’s eye put me so in mind of other days. I am sure I am so troublesome to you—why should you give yourself any more pains about me? I am sure it must be very tiresome to you—a perfect stranger—to listen to the story of my sorrows. If I have done anything wrong, or anything to offend you, I will ask your pardon on my bended knees. I won’t go on with this business. I know—Oh, yes! I know too—too well that all Augustus wants is my fortune. Let him have it. I have a little money left, and I can go down to Poldadek by this evening’s train—and I will creep into the house at night, and steal away with my child—and I can live in perfect obscurity somewhere in London. Yes; I can take a house near Dorset Square, or some other low neighbourhood, and take in needle-work till I have earned enough to send my child to Eton, or buy him a commission in the Guards. Perhaps, Dr. Dodge, you will be good enough to patronise me, and let me make your shirts. Indeed I can do fine-sewing very nicely. Yes—yes! that will be best—let me begone.”

“Mr. Lamb, you are much to blame,” said Dr. Dodge, severely.

“Oh! don’t say anything against my good, kind adviser. There, Mr. Lamb, give me your hand, and let us be friends. We’ll say no more about it. I am sure you always mean well.”

So Mr. Lamb was pardoned, and we went on with the business in hand. Mrs. Barber then gave us, as a third instance of her husband’s cruelty, another scene that had occurred at FolkstoneFolkestone [sic] upon a different occasion, when Mr. Barber, with many opprobrious words, had accused her of showing her ankles as she got in and out of the railroad-train, and up the ladder from the steamer. The accusation, as Mrs. Barber observed, was perfectly ridiculous, because she knew perfectly well that her foot and ankle were not as well made as they might be. “Indeed,” she continued, “it is very odd, but I was the only one of the Montresors who had ugly feet. Oh! if you had seen Eliza’s foot and ankle. Gentlemen used to go and take their stand near crossings on dirty days just upon the chance of getting a glimpse of them. Mamma, too, has the Montresor foot to this day; but I always knew that I was not a Montresor in this respect. Now, if you’ll promise not to tell,” she added, smilingly, “I’ll show you my foot, and you shall judge for yourselves what a story Augustus was when he said I could wish to show it. There, see how clumsy!” Mrs. Barber, as she said this, was good enough to indulge us with the sight of a foot which, if it did not prove her case, at least proved how humble-minded she was, and how poor an estimate she had formed of her own attractions. For the first time I understood the story of Cinderella. The thought occurred to me that I would request her to allow me to have a model taken of it, that I might use it as a paper-weight. However, Flora perhaps wouldn’t like the idea;—so, on the whole, it was safest to say nothing about it. For the first time I comprehended the frenzy of which a friend of my own had been guilty. He saw one day a lady’s boot in a dressing-room. The tender passion filled his soul—he caught it up—kissed it repeatedly—put it in his pocket—found out the lovely owner—proposed in three days, and was accepted. They have now been married seventeen years, and have two thumping boys at school, one of whom has just been put into the Georgics. I don’t believe there was ever a happier marriage. My friend treasures up the marvellous boot, and swears it shall go into his coffin.

To proceed—another instance of her husband’s ungovernable passions mentioned by Mrs. Barber, was, that on one occasion, when a bill of 1l. 5s. 6d. was sent in for a hat and feathers for the child, Mr. B. had declared that she was ruining him,