s against me.

But clever Mrs. Barry found out that always before my lady-wife chose to
write letters to her milliner, she had need of lemons to make her drink,
as she said; this fact, being mentioned to me, set me a-thinking, and
so I tried one of the letters before the fire, and the whole scheme
of villainy was brought to light. I will give a specimen of one of the
horrid artful letters of this unhappy woman. In a great hand, with wide
lines, were written a set of directions to her mantua-maker, setting
forth the articles of dress for which my Lady had need, the peculiarity
of their make, the stuff she selected, &c. She would make out long lists
in this way, writing each article in a separate line, so as to have more
space for detailing all my cruelties and her tremendous wrongs. Between
these lines she kept the journal of her captivity: it would have made
the fortune of a romance-writer in those days but to have got a copy of
it, and to have published it under the title of the 'Lovely Prisoner,
or the Savage Husband,' or by some name equally taking and absurd. The
journal would be as follows:--

*****

'MONDAY.--Yesterday I was made to go to church. My odious, MONSTROUS,
VULGAR SHE-DRAGON OF A MOTHER-IN-LAW, in a yellow satin and red ribands,
taking the first place in the coach; Mr. L. riding by its side, on the
horse he never paid for to Captain Hurdlestone. The wicked hypocrite led
me to the pew, with hat in hand and a smiling countenance, and kissed
my hand as I entered the coach after service, and patted my Italian
greyhound--all that the few people collected might see. He made me
come downstairs in the evening to make tea for his company; of whom
three-fourths, he himself included, were, as usual, drunk. They painted
the parson's face black, when his reverence had arrived at his seventh
bottle; and at his usual insensible stage, they tied him on the grey
mare with his face to the tail. The she-dragon read the "Whole Duty of
Man" all the evening till bedtime; when she saw me to my apartments,
locked me in, and proceeded to wait upon her abominable son: whom she
adores for his wickedness, I should think, AS STYCORAX DID CALIBAN.'

*****

You should have seen my mother's fury as I read her out this passage!
Indeed, I have always had a taste for a joke (that practised on the
parson, as described above, is, I confess, a true bill), and used
carefully to select for Mrs. Barry's hearing all the COMPLIMENTS that
L