her eyes travelling over a large nose. Still, squinting as she did, she took a tolerably correct aim at the shoulders of her spouse. In vain did he look pale, in vain did he attempt to kiss her, and excuse the deed, by affirming that it was purely accidental: all these circumstances did not stay the uplifted hand, or take away a grain from its weight. She had frequently complained of being very delicate, and when the doctor had been called in to feel her pulse with his finger, poor Gideon wished that he could only feel her fist with his head, as he must then have come to a very different conclusion. She could faint, go vulgarly into hysterics, look as pale as a drooping lily, and speak of consumption:--ah! Gideon knew that she could likewise strike hard. It was not the mere “ego,” tripping on his tongue, which said so: every rib, every bone, every member told the same tale. On this occasion, Nelly did not abate any of her strength. “Angel of my life!” Gideon cried out, “desist, oh! Nelly desist!” “You treat me as an angel, eh? Doff your nightcap then, in an angel’s presence, and make your lowest bow of reverence.” Gideon silently obeyed, and very soon had his head scratched to his wife’s content. We omitted to mention that Nelly’s figure rather came under the definition of dumpy; so that had Gideon only been able to read the classics, and to know that the face of man was made to look towards the skies, or the ceiling, she could not, without the labour of mounting a high stool, have reached him, so as to inflict _capital_ punishment. Meanwhile, Jeremiah’s eyes were moist enough. We have our suspicion that a _wave_ of Mrs. Chiselwig’s hand deposited a few tears there. Still, as this phenomenon was by no means unusual, the Chronicler leaves the point without any further investigation.