bebee, {252a} and, becoming alarmed, went in search of her, and at last found her hanging from a branch; and when the child had got so far, she took on violently, and I could not get another word from her; so I left her, and here I am." "And I am glad to see you, Mr. Petulengro; but this is sad news which you tell me about Mrs. Herne." "Somewhat dreary, brother; yet, perhaps, after all, it is a good thing that she is removed; she carried so much Devil's tinder about with her, as the man said." "I am sorry for her," said I; "more especially as I am the cause of her death--though the innocent one." "She could not bide you, brother, that's certain; but that is no reason"--said Mr. Petulengro, balancing himself upon the saddle--"that is no reason why she should prepare drow to take away your essence of life; and, when disappointed, to hang herself upon a tree: if she was dissatisfied with you, she might have flown at you, and scratched your face; or, if she did not judge herself your match, she might have put down five shillings for a turn up between you and some one she thought could beat you--myself, for example, and so the matter might have ended comfortably; but she was always too fond of covert ways, drows, and brimstones. This is not the first poisoning affair she has been engaged in." "You allude to drabbing bawlor." {252b} "Bah!" said Mr. Petulengro; "there's no harm in that. No, no! she has cast drows {253a} in her time for other guess things than bawlor; both Gorgios and Romans have tasted of them, and died. Did you never hear of the poisoned plum pudding?" "Never."