"It is showing great obstinacy on your part to repeat that," returned the coroner, impatiently. "Mrs. Reed swears that the pills were the same pills; and she evidently speaks the truth." "I am sure she thinks she speaks it," replied Abel, gently. "Nevertheless, sir, I assure you she is mistaken. In some way the pills must have been changed whilst in her possession, box and all." "Why, man, in what manner do you suppose they could have been changed?" "I don't know, sir. All I do know is, that the pills and the box produced here last week were not, either of them, the pills and the box she had from me. Never a box went out from me, sir, but had my private mark on it--the mark I spoke of. Jones the constable searched my place whilst I was detained in the lock-up, and took away all the pill-boxes out of it. Let him testify whether he found one without the mark." At this juncture a whole cargo of pill-boxes were shot out of a bag on the table by old Jones, some empty, some filled with pills. The coroner and jury began to examine them, and found the mark on all, lids and boxes. "And if you'd be so good as to cause the pills to be analyzed, sir, they would be found perfectly free from poison," resumed Abel. "They are made from herbs that possess healing properties, not irritant; a poisonous herb, whether poisonous in itself, or one from which poison may be extracted, I never plucked. Believe me, sir, for I am telling the truth; the truth before Heaven." The coroner said nothing for a minute or two: I think the words impressed him. He began lifting the lid again from one or two of the boxes. "What are these pills for? All for the same disorder?" "They were made up for different disorders, sir." "And pray how do you distinguish them?" "I cannot distinguish them now. They have been mixed. Even if returned to me I could not use them. I have a piece of furniture at home, sir, that I call my pill-case. It has various drawers in it, each drawer being labelled with the sort of pills kept in it: camomile, dandelion, and so on. Mr. Jones must be able to corroborate this." Old Jones nodded. He had never seen nothing neater nor more exact in all his life, than the keeping o' them there pills. He, Mr. Jones, had tumbled the drawerfuls indiscriminately into his bag, and so mixed them. "And they will be so much loss to me," quietly observed Abel. "It does not matter." "Were you brought up to the medical profession?" cried the coroner--and some of us thought he put the question in irony. "No, sir," replied Abel, taking it seriously. "I have learnt the healing art, as supplied by herbs and roots, and I know their value. Herbs will cure sometimes where the regular doctor fails. I have myself cured cases with them that the surgeons could not cure; cases that but for me, under God, might never have been cured in this world. I make no boast of it; any one else might do as much who had made herbs a study as I have."