while picking bones with my wretch of a husband, and I really thought I should have choked, I was in such a way with him. He had no sooner emptied the dish than he threw the "_pisen_" again in my face; and he did it also another time when we had a quince pie—and a nice delicious squince, in my eyes, is worth a Jew's eye any day; but my dainty lord and master could see nothing but _pisen_ at the bottom of it, and complained of cholera and pins and needles in his inside, and I don't know what else. So this morning I packed up my bandbox, and asked him boldly what he had got in his head lately? and that his low base suspicions had completely poisoned my existence, and that I would jump into the Thames as _sure as I was born_ sooner than be suspected any longer. When my brazen _monster_, who is known for not [Illustration: STICKING AT TRIFLES, ] draws his chair close up to mine, and laughs in my face, which made me so boil over that, in the heat of the moment, I threw the teapot at him, and then the slop-basin, and after that the milk-jug. I did not spare the crockery, or the brute either, for I was not going to be accused for nothing, I can tell you; but the more cups I broke, the more saucily he laughed, till the big drops ran down his fat face, and he asked me, with a nasty grin I didn't half like, "Whether I thought he belonged to a _burial_ society for nothing?" Oh! sir, the truth flashed all at once across my two eyes, for I knew my husband had been reading these horrible newspapers lately, and I felt instinctively they had poisoned his mind, so I ran out of the house without my bonnet, and—will you believe it?—my hair still in curl-papers, and got into a cab, vowing I would never put my foot in it again until he had gone down upon his bended knees and confessed I was a poor injured wrongly-suspected woman. I would sooner be a widow at once than be thrown about in such a way. Oh! sir, I ask you if it is not infamous, after being married to a man these fifteen years and more, to be suspected of giving him his gruel with a spoonful of arsenic, and of wishing to hurry him out of this world on a nasty toadstool instead of a fine mush-room? But, sir, it's these infamous papers. I wish they were all burnt of a heap, for I can plainly trace every bit of my pretty Smellfungus's suspicions to those atrocious "POISONINGS IN ESSEX," which have lately given the public such a turn. Since they have been published, every husband suspects that his darling wife wishes to kill him in order to receive the filthy bonus for burying him. I cannot tell you how many poor suffering wives are separated at the present moment from their brutes of husbands because they have had this abominable poison flung in their teeth every day for the last two months. The poor _innocent injured dears_ of men dare not now for their lives take a single meal in their houses, for fear it should be their last! It's quarrelling with their own bread and butter, to say the very least of