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304 enough to look at these notes, and tell me whether you admit them to be in your handwriting? I hope we shall be more fortunate than last time.”

Mrs. B. (Sobbing.) “I ho—ho—ho—hope s—s—o. Yes. I wr—o—ote these le—le—let—ters.”

The notes—they were three in number—were then handed up to the gentleman who could not keep his double-glasses on, and by him read out.

“''Why does Gussy Pussy stop away so long from his widowed fond Cecilia? I can’t go to sleep at night for thinking of you, my own kind husband. The world is to me a blank when I am parted from my Augustus. I wonder how I could have lived through those cold days before my Oggy Poggy took me to his nest, and cherished and warmed my soul into the real poetry of eminence. Ah, my Augustus! what years of happiness—nay, of bliss—you have given me! I water your dear hyacinth every morning, and tend it for your sake, even as you have tended me. Babe’s blessed little tum-tum has been rather tight, and Momma thinks he wants Dr. Rhubarb—he can already say, ‘Bes—der—Pa.’ So says your fond Cecilia.''”

The reader lost his glasses three times in the course of reading this remarkable letter—viz., at the words “Oggy Poggy,” at the words “tum-tum,” and at the infant’s form of benediction.

The next note was shorter. The child’s disorder had evidently increased.

“''Oh! my Augustus, I shall go distracted! Our blessed child—your dear image—is ill and suffering. The doctors—I have called in three physicians, for I know how regardless of expense you are when your Cecilia’s feelings are concerned—nay that the child is not in danger, but I cannot think so. My good, dear, indulgent Augustus, who have never given me a moment’s anxiety or pain since the first blessed day when I met you in Hyde Park, come back to your agonised but loving wife, Cecilia B.''”

This note was plainer sailing—the glasses only fell twice. The third note was still shorter.

“''Dearest Gus,—Babe’s tum-tum is all right again, and my poor heart is at rest. You know how I long for you back again, to pull your dear old whiskers; but if you are amusing yourself, don’t hurry back on my account. I will only go to meet every train on the chance of finding you fifteen minutes sooner, for I would not lose one precious moment of Gussy’s company. No! I can’t say—stay away. Come to me by the next train, and send a telegram to tell me that you are coming to your loving Cecilia.''”

The glasses only fell off once during the reading of this note, at the word “whiskers.” The notes had neither dates nor direction, but the envelopes bore the post-marks of Brighton on three successive days (this point was not disputed), and these dates were posterior in order of time to the acts of cruelty already spoken to by Mrs. Barber. They certainly did appear somewhat inconsistent with the theory set up for the Petitioner, namely, that Mr. Barber was an oppressive, ferocious, tyrannical, wife-beating, bruising, and burning husband. Dr. Lobb this time marched to assured victory, for now he had Mrs. Barber’s handwriting to show against her. But the explanation given by the lady was simple and complete. Mr. Barber had an uncle, an old East Indian Merchant Captain, from whom he had expectations, and who occasionally supplied him with money. This gentleman was a bachelor, but was, however, a great stickler for the happiness of married life, and would certainly have entirely cut of the supplies had be imagined that Mr. Barber was ill-using his unfortunate wife. Upon the occasions when these letters were written, Mr. Barber wanted help from his uncle, and before leaving home he had, under the most terrible threats, compelled his wife to write the notes in question, and to post them on three successive days. When pressed rather hard upon the point of duplicity, Mrs. Barber could but cry, and admit that it was very wrong; but indeed she was afraid of her life—Mr. Barber held her down in a chair, and threatened her so. Oh yes! she had often deeply accused herself of perfidy to the kind old Captain—the only one of her husband’s relatives for whom she ever entertained any respect; but Dr. Lobb didn’t know what a woman’s feelings were when a strong man was standing over her, and with the full ferocity of the sex, threatening her life. Dr. Lobb’s gun had again missed fire.

Finally, Mrs. Barber scarcely condescended to notice Dr. Lobb’s suggestion with regard to the luminous inscription, and the saucers filled with spirits of wine, and the metaphysical terrors of Herne Bay, which was to the effect that her loving husband had upon one occasion, and simply to solace their solitude in that remote watering-place, induced her to play at two-handed snap-dragon, and amused her with a magic-lantern. No: the incident was one of pure, unmitigated, excruciating horror, just as she had related it. Had she complained to her landlady? No! She became insensible; and as she was afterwards informed, congestion of the brain had been set up. It was not by agreement with herself, and at her own request, that Mr. B. had danced the Cachucha in her crinoline. She was never so shocked in her life, and could not look the three Messrs. Winterbotham in the face for weeks after the painful occurrence. Then, with regard to the diaphanous petticoats with the Holy Work and the Cotton Tops, Mrs. Barber entirely and indignantly repudiated the disgusting idea that she had used the Holy Work petticoats under tarlatan skirts with any idea of affording to the world a clearer idea of the Montresor foot, ankle—aye, and more than this. The question was an outrage. No! Mr. Barber had not insisted that she should wear worsted stockings out of regard to her health, and because her chest was delicate. He had never said that she was welcome to wear silk stockings as long as she pleased, so that she would only wear worsted under them in winter and in damp weather. He had been losing heavily at pool, when he proposed to her to wear the Cotton-Tops, and his sole object was—not her health—but a few miserable shillings, to enable him to re-appear at the billiard-table.

Dr. Lobb had done with the witness, who descended from the pen unshaken in any material way by the cross—examination.

Madame Léocadie Lareine was now called up, and examined in chief by Dr. Dodge. It was a magnificent spectacle to behold the way in which