“Monday had come and gone, and Harry was on his way to California. Viola was quite ill, Lottie in distress, and my mind by no means free of trouble.

“‘Here we come, Eddie, my boy,’ said Doctor Dodson, as he came bustling into the drug-store one morning soon after breakfast. ‘Ah, ha! my boy, things are all wrong, all wrong, sir. That’s always the case; one thing goes wrong, everything must follow suit, you know—ah, ha! don’t you see how it is, my boy? Miss Bramlett, poor thing, very ill—threatened with brain fever—killing herself with grief about Wallingford—Lottie wearing herself out with continual watching—breaking her heart about other people’s troubles—don’t sleep enough—eats not enough to support life in a snow-bird. Ah, ha! my boy, don’t you see how it is? Then, to cap the climax of errors, here’s Dabbs and Tadpoddle nosing round and stirring up slander, and those two hateful old maids are retailing it out where they think it will do the most harm. Ah, ha! my boy, do you know those two detestable old hags? No, of course you don’t; I allude to Miss Jemima Tadpoddle and Jerusha Clattermouth. Ah, ha! Eddie, my boy, old Nick ought to have them both. Clatter, clatter go their tongues all day, slandering everybody and everything. They both have been to the jail, pretending to feel an interest in Miss Bramlett, and they have well-nigh killed the poor girl with their infernal tongues. Ah, ha! Eddie, my boy, don’t you see how it is? I wish their tongues were cut out and nailed on the jail door, as a warning to meddlesome gossips—that’s what I wish. Ah, ha! Eddie, my boy, Miss Tadpoddle is ill. Thank Heaven! I hope the town will have a little breathing spell while she is sick. The hateful hag has sent for me to visit her professionally. Ah, ha! my boy, I mean to send you in my place. She is the very sort for a young quack to practice on. No harm done if he kills her, don’t you see? Get yourself ready to go, my boy—give her something to silence her tongue, if you can. You’ll find a charming patient, my boy. Clattermouth is sure to be there—they are always together—birds of a feather—you know how it is yourself. Ah, ha! Eddie, my boy, be off now—stuff her full of medicine—pour in the calomel till you salivate her—that’s as nigh salvation as she will ever get. Go, my boy; cram her with emetics, then shovel in your purgatives. Don’t kill her, but prostrate her—stop her devilish tongue. Ah, ha! my boy, don’t you see? Go, go!’

“Of course I went, and when I entered Mr. Tadpoddle’s house I was immediately ushered into Miss Jemima’s room. I stood in the door a moment, while my eyes were busy taking a survey of the room and its contents. Miss Jemima Tadpoddle was propped up in bed with a dozen pillows, while Miss Jerusha Clattermouth was bathing her temples with eau-de-Cologne, and the sick woman’s mother was holding a smelling bottle to her nose. It is my deliberate opinion that if Shakespeare had seen those three women before he wrote ‘Macbeth,’ he would have made a better job of it, especially in the witch department.

“A feeling of disgust crept through me as I approached the bed where she was, and it cost me an effort to conceal my feelings. Her neck was not quite so long as that of a sandhill crane, but I can honestly say it was the longest neck I ever saw under a woman’s head, and it appeared to be entirely constructed of little round cords. Her skin was as white as snow, and if she had any veins in her body, they were not visible to the naked eye.

“Miss Clattermouth was by no means like Miss Tadpoddle—in fact, I never saw two people less alike than they were. Miss Clattermouth was a little, dark-skinned woman, with a pug nose, a very small mouth, no teeth, either natural or artificial, and the thin lips appeared to be at a loss to know what to do with themselves. The mouth was entirely too small for the lips, hence they were forced to double themselves up, or rather to roll into little folds, so as to have more room.

“As soon as I was able to get in a word, I inquired of Miss Tadpoddle the nature of her complaint.

“‘Oh, doctor! I am so glad you came to see me. I declare, I thought I should die before you got here. You don’t know how delighted I am to see you. I never exaggerate. I despise exaggeration—it is my character to despise it. I never flatter—it is my character to hate flattery. You may rely on anything I say, doctor, for I never use extravagant language—it is my character not to use it. I feel so much better since you came—your cheerful smile has almost cured me. I’m sure I soon shall get well. The pleasure it gives me to look at your happy face is much better than medicine. Sit down near me, where I can see you plainly. Feel my pulse. It is much more regular than when you came. I have heard so much about you, Doctor Demar. They told me you were handsome, though they didn’t do you justice; but I never flatter—it is my character not to flatter—yet I never saw such expressive eyes as yours. My brother told me about them. But never mind me; you know a woman must talk. Oh! you look so strong and healthy; how I envy you! You are so tall and handsome! Pardon my enthusiasm, I beg you, but I mean what I say. You wish to know what is the matter with me? Yes, of course you do. Well, I mean to tell you. Oh! I have suffered ten thousand deaths since yesterday. Such torture no poor mortal ever suffered before. How I survived it is a mystery—but I must try to describe my sufferings. I never expected to see another day. I had a horrible pain in the back of my head; both temples ached and throbbed all day and all night. My back felt as if it was broken in the middle—my teeth were all aching at once; a kind of smothering about my heart, with darting pains continually going like a knife through my breast. My stomach seemed to be on fire, while my extremities were freezing. My throat was perfectly raw, and the skin has all peeled off my tongue. Every bone in my body seemed mashed into powder. My eyeballs felt as if they were going to jump out of my head. I had the ear-ache in both ears; a most horrid retching about the stomach. I had neuralgia in my left jaw, and a burning sensation in my nostrils, and to tell you the truth, I was quite unlike myself. Do, pray, give me something to relieve me. I’ll die, I know I will, if you don’t hurry.’

“That interesting female then fell back on the mountain of pillows, closed her eyes and heaved a deep sigh, like one who was about to bid the world a final farewell. I want it to be distinctly understood that I did not intend to commit murder, but I had the necessary malice in me. Miss Tadpoddle had maligned Miss Bramlett, and she had slandered everybody else in Memphis. She had offended Lottie by her malicious reports concerning Viola. I was angry because Lottie was displeased, and here is the soliloquy that I had with myself on that occasion, as nigh as I can remember it:

“‘Very well, my charming Miss Tadpoddle; I have got you in my power now, and I guess I’ll get even with you before I quit you. You want medicine, do you? Very good—you shall have it with a vengeance; I’ll keep your tongue silent for a week or two, if there is any virtue in blisters. I’ll physic you until you are satisfied!’

“This was the first patient I ever had, and I meant to test the qualities of my drugs. I had brought my case of medicines with me, and was prepared, not only to prescribe, but to administer the drugs. I covered her up with blisters; I gave her an emetic; I put red-hot bricks to her feet; I cupped her temples—the fact is, I made a prescription for each separate pain of which she complained; and with the aid of Miss Clattermouth, I managed to have it all administered. Then I sat down and waited for the result.

“‘Old lady,’ I observed to myself mentally, ‘I guess you’ll remain quiet for a few days, now. You won’t trouble Miss Bramlett soon, at all events. Your tongue won’t wag quite so glibly as it has been in the habit of doing. You’ll wake up directly, if I am not mistaken.’

“Well, sure enough, she did wake up, and it was no halfway business, either—it was what you call a wide-awake sensation. The mustard began to heat her up, the emetic commenced business, the hot bricks got up steam—in fact, the skirmish commenced all along the line; but when the pill brigade made the charge, the engagement became general—the contest was hot and loud, and the drugs won the victory, and Miss Tadpoddle was saved—so completely cured that she never has been very ill since. My reputation as a first-class physician was then permanently established, because Miss Tadpoddle’s tongue was a better advertising medium than the New York Herald. She was president of the Tramp Reform Association; then she was a working member of many other benevolent associations. She made it her daily business to speak of my vigorous style of practice. I was certainly well prepared to treat any disease, because the experiments I had made on Miss Tadpoddle had enabled me to test the qualities of all the drugs known to the profession.

“It was somewhere about ten days after my treatment of Miss Tadpoddle’s case when she again sent for me. I found her in bed—and when I say in bed, I mean it. She was not propped up with pillows, as she was when I first visited her, but she was flat on the bed. The truth is, I had so completely taken the starch out of her that she couldn’t sit up.

“‘How do you feel this morning, Miss Tadpoddle?’ I inquired, pretending to be interested about her case.

“‘Oh, I am so weak, doctor; but for that, I would be very well. I did not send for you with a view of taking more medicine—no, no, indeed! I don’t think I ever shall need any more as long as I live. I merely wished to speak with you about Miss Bramlett’s case. I presume that my brother has told you of the valuable assistance I have rendered him? Very well; I have something more to say to you on that subject. I fear you will find that Miss Bramlett is a very bad woman. I confess I never had much faith in her at first. She was too proud, too cold-hearted—made too much display with her money. She was parading the streets continually, pretending to be assisting the poor, but evidently trying to create a sensation. One day I met her at the Widow Spratt’s house, and would you believe it, sir, she was dressed within an inch of her life! She had on a blue silk dress, with real lace trimmings—and, by the by, that was the identical dress she wore that night when I saw her go into Ben Bowles’ apartments, through the private entrance that opens from the alley. But I am going too fast.—I was telling you about meeting Miss Bramlett at Widow Spratt’s. Well, sir, she was sitting on a low truckle-bed, feeding the baby with condensed milk. It was the dirtiest, sickliest-looking thing I ever laid eyes on; and the other five children were cramming themselves with cold bread and turkey that Miss Bramlett had given them; and they were covered with dirty rags, just like the baby. Mrs. Spratt is the poorest manager I ever saw. Her children are half naked and starved. I was really vexed at Miss Bramlett for throwing away her money on such worthless people. Old Spratt was always drunk, and wouldn’t work. He fell overboard from a steam-boat and was drowned; it was a great pity he didn’t die ten years ago. His children are lazy, good-for-nothing brats, and ought to starve. Miss Bramlett has been supporting the whole family since old Spratt died. Mrs. Spratt, she lies in bed the live-long day, pretending to be sick, but it is pure laziness; and if Miss Bramlett would let her alone, she would have to get up and work, or starve. Well, there are many other families in this city depending on Miss Bramlett’s money for support. It’s a scandal and a shame that such laziness should be encouraged. Let ‘em work, or starve, is my motto. I asked Mrs. Spratt to subscribe something to our Tramp Reform Association, and she wouldn’t give a cent. I begged Miss Bramlett to help us, and she turned up her nose and absolutely sneered in my face—a hateful hussy! but I ought not to talk so, because I never bear malice against my neighbors; it is my character not to nurse ill-will—“Forgive those who trespass against us,” is my motto—this is what our Saviour taught us. There is Lottie Wallingford, who thinks the world and all of Miss Bramlett. I wonder how she will feel when she sees her friend hung for murder? Her brother was engaged to be married to Miss Bramlett when the murder was committed; but they say he has run away to California and left his affianced bride here to be hung, while he goes to get his uncle’s great fortune. Of course that will make honors easy—he loses his sweetheart, but wins a fortune. That ought to console him, at any rate. They say you are taking on about Lottie Wallingford. Doctor, she would no doubt make you a good wife, if she wasn’t so much like old Rockland—always talking about books and book-learning. She knows too much; I don’t like so much genius. I like business. It is my character to despise poetry. I hate these dreamy, sentimental women who can memorize a whole book and then repeat it in public. I hate these silly women who sing nothing but sentimental songs. They are always talking about sweet flowers, sweet poetry, sweet birds, sweet scenery, sweet music—everything is sweet with them. I hate sweet things; it is my character to hate sweet things. She and Miss Bramlett have converted the jail into a picture gallery, concert hall and book library. For my part, I don’t see how the jailer puts up with such doings. The idea that a murderess in jail, awaiting her trial, should be painting pictures, reading poetry and playing the guitar surpasses my comprehension. She had better be reading her Bible or prayer-book, and making preparations to meet her God, for she is certain to be hung. I know enough myself to hang her, and I mean to tell it. I saw her with my own eyes when she went into the apartments of that gambler, at the dark hour of night. You see I had my suspicions about her, anyway, and when I saw her meet Bowles in the garden that night I concluded that some deviltry was going on, and determined to watch her. I have the advantage you see, doctor, over other women—it is no trouble for me to disguise myself. I am very tall, you perceive, and my brother’s clothes fit me to a T. I made it my business to waylay Mr. Ragland’s premises every night until I succeeded in accomplishing my object. One night about eight o’clock I saw Miss Bramlett go out of the house by the back way and walk cautiously toward the rear side of the garden. I was concealed among the shrubbery, and saw her coming directly toward the spot where I was. She, however, turned to the left, passing within ten paces of me. She appeared to be looking for some one, for she stopped near me and waited for several minutes; then she turned square off to the right and entered the summer-house by the back door. I think she stayed in the summer-house about ten minutes; at any rate, she remained in it until I began to grow restless, and was thinking of trying to slip around to the front door, so as to enable me to see whether or not she was alone. I noticed that she had her face covered with a veil, but I knew her by the dress and shawl she wore—the same she had on the time I met her at the Widow Spratt’s. When she came out of the summer-house, she went in the direction of the carriage-house, which you know is east of the former, and about forty yards from it. She passed on without halting, until she reached the extreme back part of the garden. She paused and looked around in every direction, as if trying to ascertain whether or not any one was watching her. But she did not see me; I was too sharp to be caught that way. I am not one of those sap-heads that you have heard so much about. In fact, I hate sap-headed women—it is my character to hate ’em; and as to sap-headed men, they ought not to be permitted to live. But here I am again straggling off from the subject. I beg you to excuse me, doctor; you know I am quite weak yet—indeed I am. It is astonishing to me that I am able to utter a word. Your medicine cured my complaints, it is true, but left me completely prostrated. I don’t think I ever shall need any more drugs. But I declare, I must quit wandering off that way. I wouldn’t do it, I know, but I am afraid the strong medicine has, to some extent, weakened my mind. Everything seems like a dream. Do you ever dream, doctor? No? Ah, then, you don’t appreciate them. Where one’s dreams are pleasant, one enjoys the sensation very much; but when the stomach’s out of order, one is sure to have unpleasant dreams. Oh! I had such a nice dream last night! I thought that I was—but what do you care about my dreams? I suppose you want me to finish my narrative about Miss Bramlett’s movements.’

“‘Miss Tadpoddle,’ said I, ‘you must, by all means, take another dose of medicine; the color of your skin is not as good as it should be, and I don’t like the looks of your tongue.’

“If I could have induced her to take another dose of my drugs then, she would have remembered it to her dying day.

“‘No, no, doctor, please hush talking about your hateful drugs and let me go on with my story. It makes one feel so nervous to have to wait and wait for anything which ought to be told without stopping. There is Miss Clattermouth—oh, it would do you good to hear her relate a story. She can talk all day and never make a hobble. You ought to hear her deliver one of her lectures on the rights of women. She is our champion on that question, and you must not fail to hear her lecture next time. She is the business manager of our Tramp Reform Association, and is one of our best financial agents. You ought to join our Tramp Reform Association, doctor. We have achieved wonders in that society. We have reformed as many as a dozen tramps during the last year.’

“‘In what way did you reform them, Miss Tadpoddle?’ I inquired.

“‘Oh, we furnish them board and lodgings for a month, by way of trial, and give them a good suit of clothes. Miss Clattermouth lectures them twice a week, and I give them Bible lessons three times a week. If, at the end of a month, one shows evidences of repentance and reformation, we then furnish him with another suit of clothes, a Testament, five dollars in cash and a certificate of good behavior, and discharge him with our blessing.’

“‘If he doesn’t furnish the necessary evidence at the end of the first month, what course do you pursue then?’

“‘We keep him another month, and if he proves incorrigible, we dismiss him without our certificate or blessing.’

“‘The punishment, I must say, Miss Tadpoddle, is indeed very severe. What is to be the fate of the poor tramp who is thus turned loose on the cold charities of the world with no certificate and without your blessing? May I inquire what percentage prove incorrigible and are driven out without the certificate and blessing?’

“‘I should say about ninety per cent. It is a source of regret to know that so many prove unworthy, yet it is a consolation to us to save as much as ten per cent. of the unfortunate class.’

“‘If I understand you correctly, any one can secure two months’ board and lodging by representing himself as a tramp.’

“‘Oh, no, by no means; we always appoint a committee to investigate each applicant and ascertain whether or not he is really a tramp. We have to be very strict in that respect, because we have detected several of our own citizens in the attempt to palm themselves off on us as tramps. You see the rules of our association don’t allow us to receive any citizen of the State, but we only take in those unfortunate men who are known as tramps. But enough about that subject. I must finish telling you about Miss Bramlett. I fear I shall fatigue myself too much, anyway, being so very feeble, as you are aware. By the by, doctor, do you remember where I was when we got off of the subject?’

“‘I believe you were telling me about seeing Miss Bramlett go to the extreme back part of the garden, one starlight night, and that she had on a heavy veil.’

“‘Yes, yes, I remember now. I saw Miss Bramlett. Her movements were so mysterious that I became very much excited and curious to know what she was up to. When she got to the back part of the garden I, of course, expected to see her turn and go back to the house, but not so, as you shall hear as we proceed. It never had occurred to me that she was going to pay a clandestine visit at such an hour as that; but you may imagine how great was my astonishment when I saw her removing the palings from the fence. My brother is a most remarkable man. He is like me in one respect—he never exaggerates—that is his character. He is just like me—I hate exaggeration. Well, as I was about to observe—what was it I was going to say? Oh, yes, I remember now. I was on the eve of telling you how Miss Bramlett’s mysterious conduct excited my curiosity. Curiosity is characteristic of our sex, you know, and I confess to a weakness on that score. You see I will tell the truth though the Heavens fall. I hate falsehood—it is my character to despise it. Honesty is the best policy—you remember the saying; by the by, it is an excellent motto. But I must be brief, for I begin to feel quite fatigued now—one in my feeble condition ought not to talk much, though when I am strong and well I don’t mind talking; it does not tire me at all—but it is different with me now. Just listen to me now; here I am again talking nonsense, instead of letting you know what I saw with my own eyes. Miss Bramlett disappeared through the palings exactly as a ghost would have done. Don’t understand me to say or hint that I am a believer in ghosts—no, I never thought of such a thing. Anyway, she went through, and for a moment I lost sight of her, but I was not to be outdone in that way. I hastened to the spot where I had seen her last, but could see nothing of her. I lost no time in leaping over the palings. I suppose you are astonished to hear me say so, but it is no exaggeration, I assure you. Very well, then; I did leap over the palings. Then I was in the street, all right. You see I am very tall, not much short of six feet, and if I do say it myself, I am very active, for a young girl. But let that pass, for I know it does not interest you. Miss Bramlett was walking rapidly down the street when I got over the palings, some fifty or sixty yards from me. I soon shortened the distance between us, being careful to avoid the faint light from the lamp on the opposite side of the street. The lamp-posts were very far apart, and the streets were deserted. The lamps appeared quite feeble, and the light did not interfere with my movements. When Miss Bramlett reached the next block she disappeared round the corner, and I was afraid she had escaped me entirely; but I hastened to the corner, and was delighted to see her within twenty paces of me. The first alley she reached she turned into and again disappeared, but I soon caught sight of her again, and kept close behind her until she came to the private entrance of Ben Bowles’ gambling hell. She stood before it a moment, then went in, and the door closed behind her. Now, Doctor Demar, what do you think of such doings as that? Can’t you see that she is a very wicked woman? It is no use to say that she is innocent—for I tell you she is guilty, and ought to be hung. All the lawyers in the world can’t save her neck. Oh, it makes the cold chills run up my back to think of that girl’s wickedness!’

“‘Miss Clattermouth made me promise not to talk much, and I must keep my promise—it is my character to keep my word. I despise people who disregard the advice of friends. Miss Clattermouth has been a true friend to me—indeed, she has! I admire such friends. Did you ever see the darling poodle she gave me? Oh, he is such a sweet little fellow! I must show him to you by all means. I think he is asleep under the sofa there. I hate to disturb him, though—because he always frets so when his naps are broken; but I guess he has got his nap nearly out by this time. Here, Tottie! here, Tottie! Come along and let the doctor see you.’ The individual alluded to came crawling out from under the sofa. I suppose he would have weighed at least eight ounces avoirdupois. He was covered with wool as white as snow. ‘Come along, darling; don’t be bashful; let the doctor see you.’

“He started toward the bed where his mistress was, but came to a broom handle that unfortunately had been left on the floor,—he couldn’t jump over it, and didn’t have sense enough to go round it; but he began to scream with great vigor, and I had to help him over it. I sat him on the bed by his mistress, and I am not ashamed to say that I gave him such a squeeze that he was unable to yell any more for some time.

“‘Oh, doctor, ain’t he a sweet little darling? How could I help loving Miss Clattermouth, when she gave me such a nice present? But I suppose you don’t love dogs, and would prefer to hear what further I have to say about Miss Bramlett. Very well, you shall hear it. I got quite impatient while I was waiting to see her come out of Bowles’ den; but I made up my mind to see the end of it, and when I make up my mind to do anything, it is as good as done. I never give up an undertaking, once I resolve to go into it—it is my character never to back down. I hate people who undertake anything and don’t do it. I am one of those hanging-on sort that don’t do things by halves. I cling on like a badger—I believe that is the name of the little animal that has such a reputation for hanging on with so much tenacity; anyway, I am that kind of a woman. The weather was quite cold that night, and I suffered very much from it, but I didn’t mind that at all. I think I should have stood my ground if it had rained lumps of ice as big as my head.

“‘Well, as I was about to observe, I suffered from the cold weather, but I was rewarded at last, for I saw Miss Bramlett come out of the house by the same door through which she had entered; though she was not alone this time—Bowles was with her. I cannot state exactly how long she had remained inside of the house, but if I was on my oath in a court-house, I should say it was not a minute less than three hours. When she came out of the house, she was leaning on Bowles’ arm, and they were conversing in an under-tone. I could not hear all that was said, because I was compelled to remain some distance from them, so as to keep them from seeing me; but I heard enough (Heaven knows!) to hang Miss Bramlett as high as Haman. I don’t exactly remember how high it was that Haman was hung, though it was about fifty cubits. Now that must have been a pretty lofty gallows! A cubit is either eighteen inches or eighteen feet—I don’t remember which. I like that way of executing criminals—hang ’em high, so everybody can see ’em. I hope Viola Bramlett will be hung where we can all see the fun. But I was about to tell you what she said to Bowles. She was leaning on his arm, with her mouth close to his ear. You know Bowles, of course. Yes, I am glad you do—he is such a nice gentleman, so handsome, dresses so exquisite—then he is so liberal with his money! He aids us in all our benevolent enterprises. Oh, he is such a darling, clever gentleman! What a pity it is that such a handsome gentleman should be led astray by that scheming hypocrite, Viola Bramlett! It is very clear that she had him completely under her thumb; and I am afraid he has been duped by her beauty and her hypocritical smiles. I heard her calling him “my dear, darling Ben” at least half a dozen times. Just think of that, will you? I declare, it makes me sick to think of it. She was evidently talking to him about the murder of her brother, for I heard her ask Bowles if he thought there was any danger of detection. I also heard her ask him if a doctor could tell when any one had died from poison, and how much strychnine it would take to produce death. Oh, doctor, it made the blood freeze in my veins to hear her discussing the murder of her brother. But, mind you, I had no idea then that she intended to murder her own brother. I followed her and Bowles back to Mr. Ragland’s residence. They halted at the end of the garden, and talked, for a long time, in an under-tone; at last Bowles took her in his arms and kissed her. Then she went into the house, while he retraced his steps to his head-quarters. I immediately returned home and jotted down in my diary the things I had seen, just as I have related them to you. Now, how can the lawyers keep that wicked woman from hanging? I should like you to tell me if you can.’

“You may imagine what my feelings were when Miss Tadpoddle had finished her remarkable story; but I shall not try to describe them. That Viola Bramlett was lost, beyond all question, seemed to be a fixed fact, and that it would nearly kill Lottie I knew full well. I tried to argue Miss Bramlett’s case to myself so as to bring her out unstained; but the proof rose, like huge Olympus, before me. Everything seemed to point unmistakably to her as the guilty party; and if she was guilty at all, it was clear that she had sunk so far down in the pit of infamy as to render it necessary for me to separate her and Lottie.