gentlemen proved that arsenic had been
administered; and it then came to light that
Mrs. Cage had employed a woman to go to
the chemist's, and purchase a pennyworth of
arsenic "as she did not wish to be seen in it."

Mrs. Hathway, landlady of the Fox beer-
house, in the little quiet village of Chipping
Sudbury, is said to have been a fine young
woman, considerably younger than her
husband, and very respectably connected. At
the time of her marriage, Hathway had a
fortune with her of several hundred pounds,
nearly the whole of which he soon afterwards
squandered in various disreputable ways,
more especially with a girl named Carey, who
had formerly been his servant. Mrs. Hathway
was taken ill, and died suddenly. Suspicions
having been excited, a post-mortem examination
takes place, and several grains of
arsenic are found in the stomach. From the
evidence given at the inquest, it appeared
that the victim had been very unhappy from
her husband's bad treatment; and a short
time before her death, as though by some
instinct or misgiving, she expressed a fear
that "the set" her husband was connected
with, would murder her.

Several children died at Clavering, in
Essex, under a strong presumption that
they had been poisoned. Some time
afterwards, a woman, named Sarah Chesham,
was accused of having administered arsenic
to her husband, was tried, and found guilty
of the murder. She denied it, however,
to the very last, in the most determined
manner but not in a way that looked like
the protestations of innocence. On leaving her
cell, for execution—which she at first refused
to do, until she was told she would be carried
there—she repeated her previous assertions.
Her behaviour, in steadily refusing to move
out of her cell, either for exercise or
devotion, had a most self-willed and dogged
appearance, not in the least resembling the
conduct of one who felt herself the
unfortunate and wretched victim of false
accusations and blind penal laws.

Mrs. Dearlove, the wife of a wealthy farmer,
residing at Gorefield, near Wisbeach, is
troubled by the heavy morning slumbers of
Ann Averment, a maid-servant, who never
rises at a proper time. One morning, Mrs.
Dearlove, hoping to cure her, by a summary
process of a kind by no means very
uncommon, went up to her room, and finding
her still asleep, threw some cold water over
her. This did not answer the desired effect
beyond the moment; and, a few days afterwards,
Mrs. Dearlove again went up-stairs,
and finding Ann Averment still in bed,
suddenly pulled the bed-clothes off. In the
course of the day the girl was heard to say
she would find some means of vengeance upon
her mistress. It so happened that Mrs. Dearlove
dined alone the same day, her husband
not having returned from Wisbeach cattle-
market, and her daughter being away from
home on a visit. She had not commenced
dinner above three minutes when she
complained of a strange taste in the food, and
was presently taken very ill. A thunder-
storm had occurred during the last half-hour,
so that Mr. Dearlove, who was on his way
home to dinner, was obliged to take shelter
under some trees, and the delay saved his
life. When he returned, he found his wife
speechless and almost insensible, and in two
hours after she had eaten of the food, she died
in dreadful agonies. Ann Averment had not
purchased any poison in the neighbourhood,
nor was any found in her possession; but Mr.
Dearlove kept arsenic on the premises. He
used it in preparing his seed wheat, and kept
a quantity in an iron pot, slung up for safety
by a cord to the roof of a barn. He now
recollected that, a few days ago, he had found
the iron pot on the floor of the barn: he did
not notice if any had been taken out of it, as
he naturally supposed it had fallen down.
Here, then, was a case for very strong
suspicion against Ann Averment; but so utterly
deficient was the evidence, that even on the
adjourned inquest, the jury returned a verdict
of "Wilful Murder against some person or
persons unknown." Subsequently, on the
examination of Ann Averment by the
magistrates, the proceedings were several times
adjourned, and it was only on the tenth
day from the first examination that they
could decide upon sending the accused for
trial.

The reader will, of course, understand that
we are far from meaning to blame the slowness
to decide as to guilt in these cases, and
the necessity there is of obtaining clear and
close evidence of the crime. Our object is to
show how extremely difficult it is, in most
cases, to obtain such evidence, owing to the
facility with which poison can be obtained,
and the secrecy with which it can be
administered. The latter circumstance should
certainly cause some very stringent measures
to be adopted with regard to the means
of procuring poison, and also against its
being left openly within the reach of
anybody.

Ellen Mitts and Mary Ann Bancroft,
two infants, the first two years and three
months old, the latter only eleven months,
died suddenly (in May last) at Haigh, near
Ashton, in Cheshire. They had eaten some
porridge; were taken ill immediately, and
died soon after. Suspicion being excited, a
constable took up the matter, and insisted on
having the porridge-pot examined. But it
had been so thoroughly cleaned, that nothing
could be seen. Eventually, a post-mortem
examination of the children's bodies took
place, when their death was clearly traced to
arsenic having been mixed with their food.
Burial-club money was fully believed to be the
incentive to the foul and unnatural crime.
But more conclusive evidence was adduced, in
the case of the Waddingtons, who poisoned