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322 had got there, unless indeed he had risen through a well-oiled trap-door, I am wholly unable to say. All indications around us seemed to suggest that the critical moment of the struggle had arrived, and that the three learned Horatii and the three equally learned Curiatii were to engage in decisive conflict over Mr. Barber’s prostrate form. Where I sate I could not help hearing the general sense of Mr. Shuttlecock’s hurried but emphatic suggestion to Dr. Lobb, whose duty it was to examine Mr. Barber in chief—it was something about “A chaste system of denegation, and then counter!” I did not quite understand what the crafty advovateadvocate [sic] intended at the moment, but his meaning soon became intelligible enough.

Mr. Barber was duly sworn: but for him there were no delicate attentions, no courteous requests to take his seat on the gorgeous cushion at the back of the pen. Even the kind old Judge—who was breathing, as one may say, a new quill, and giving it a preliminary canter over the paper preparatory to settling down for the note-taking business—simply growled at the Respondent, and told him to “stand well forward.” Sir C. C. gave him a severe but mournful glance, and the third Judge reclined back in his chair, awful as the third Erinnys meditating on the possibility that Orestes might yet escape. Mr. Barber’s aspect was pale and disgusting. What a contrast in his appearance to that of the beautiful being who so lately occupied that place!

Our excited expectations were destined to momentary disappointment, and I soon saw what it was that Mr. Shuttlecock had pointed out to Dr. Lobb as the path of safety. One by one he took Mrs. Barber’s allegations, and embodied each in the form of a coarse and distinct question which only admitted in reply of a “Yes,” or “No.” In order to avoid the re-introduction of incidents which would become nauseous by frequent repetition, I must then beg that the reader will understand that Mr. Barber traversed each of his amiable lady’s assertions modo et formâ, and that, with exceedingly rare exceptions, Dr. Lobb, being kept within the limits of discretion by a sharp, admonitory glance from his thin and watchful chief, never permitted him to wander out of those narrow bounds. Mr. Barber’s manner, which at first had yielded indications of nervousness, got more assured as he proceeded; indeed, with reference to the incident at Cheltenham, he went so far, in reply to a question from Dr. Lobb, as to ask him in return, “If it was likely now that a man would clean his teeth with a boot-jack?” a degree of pertness which brought the Court down on him like a thunderbolt. He persisted most emphatically in his declaration, that he had never in any way interfered with Mrs. Barber in her desire to wear silk stockings—saving in so far as repeated prayers on his part, that she would not endanger her precious health by refusing to wear worsted stockings under them in winter time and rainy weather, might be construed as such interference. Dr. Lobb continued:

Dr. L. “And now, Mr. Barber, that we have disposed of all Mrs. Barber’s assertions in a way which will, I hope, prove satisfactory to the Jury, I think they would like to hear a little of your own complaints. Did Mrs. Barber make your home a happy one to you?”

Mr. B. “Certainly not. I was the most miserable brute—I mean person—going. I’d have changed places with a cab-driver at any moment with the greatest pleasure.”

Dr. L. “Changed places with a cab-driver at any moment. Just so. But be pleased, sir, to give the Jury some particulars. What happened? How did Mrs. Barber wound and lacerate your feelings, and poison your existence if I may so say?” (Here the learned civilian repeated his words not without a certain unctuous relish, as though he had just hit upon the right term). “Yes! poison your existence?”

Mr. B. “Why, sir, it’s difficult to say—that she did this, or that. She didn’t exactly fling the tea-pot at my head, or lock me out of doors: but she always made it out as if I was a madman, and she was my keeper. When I was pretty jolly—I mean in good spirits—she was always in a low nervous state; and if I was out of spirits, she was all for going out for a lark—I mean to enjoy ourselves. Then there was her uncle Viscount Poteen, and her five noble cousins, the five Miss O’Toddys of Castle Toddy, somewhere in Connemara.”

Dr. L. “Viscount Poteen and the five Miss O’Toddys. Very well, sir, go on.”

Mr. B. “Why, sir, my wife was always telling me what an advantage it was to me to have married into a noble Irish family; but I wish, sir, you’d seen the Viscount over a glass of punch, and how the five Miss O’Toddys would get the better of a leg of mutton. Then, by George, sir! they were so dirty, it was a perfect shame. The house was never empty of them; and Mrs. Barber and me used to have squabbles about that, especially after I’d sent home five tubs, of different sizes, to their lodgings on Valentine’s Day, as a broad hint. Why, sir, the Viscount was going to call me out for that, and only withdrew his challenge when I consented to become a Director of ‘The Company for converting the turf on the Poteen estate into animal food, and exporting it to Brazil.’ As I used to tell him, sir, they’d got a good head of cattle there already.”

Dr. L. “Never mind that, Mr. Barber—that’s not evidence. Mrs. Barber habitually converted her aristocratic connections into machinery for tormenting you. What then?”

Mr. B. “Why, sir, there was the baby—she was always slobbering me over with the baby, and making me hold it, and forgetting to take it back again when people called. Nights and nights, sir, I’ve spent walking up and down the bed-room with the baby in my arms, and got called a brute into the bargain.”

By the Court. “What’s that, Dr. Lobb?”

Dr. L. “Mrs. Barber used to compel Mr. Barber to carry the babe up and down the bed-room, and call him a brute, My Lud.”

By the Court. “Very good; I’ve got that.”

Mr. B. “Then, sir, she was always practising singing—and giving great parties for people to come and hear her at it. There wasn’t a spot in the house where I could go to get a moment’s quiet. I tried the back attic, but I was told I