I next proceeded to ascertain what she had been taking in the form of medicaments; and discovered that her husband, proceeding on the idea that her stomach laboured under weakness and required some tonic medicine, had administered to her, on several occasions, what we term _limatura ferri_ (iron filings)--a remedy for cases of dyspepsia and bad stomachs, but not suited to the inflammatory disorders of the kind under which she was suffering. I asked her if she had any of the medicine lying by her, and she replied, with simplicity, that her husband generally took charge of it himself; but that he had that evening laid a small paper, containing a portion of it, on the top of a side-table, until he administered to her the dose she was in the habit of receiving, and had gone away without laying it past, according to his custom. I took up the paper, examined it, and found, according to the rapid investigation I bestowed on it, without the aid of any tests, that it possessed all the appearances of the genuine medicine. I, however, took the precaution of emptying a small portion of it into another paper, and slipping it into my pocket unobserved by the patient. I then told her that I thought she should discontinue the use of the powder, which was entirely unsuited to her ailment. "That is a cruel advice, sir," she cried, in a tone of great excitement. "How can I discontinue a medicine offered to me by the hands of a husband, without being able to give any reason for rejecting his kindness? I tremble to think of repaying all the attentions of that dear man with ingratitude, and wounding his sensibility by rejecting this testimony of his solicitude and affection. I cannot--I feel I cannot. The grief I would thereby produce to him would be reflected, by sympathy, on this weak frame, which is unable to struggle much longer with the pains of flesh alone, far less with the additional anguish of a wounded mind, grieved to death at causing sorrow to the man I so dearly love. Do not, oh! do not, sir, make me an ingrate."