THE PHYSIOLOGY OF THE LONDON MEDICAL STUDENT.
6.—OF THE GRINDER AND HIS CLASS.
One fine morning, in the October of the third winter session, the student is suddenly struck by the recollection that at the end of the course the time will arrive for him to be thinking about undergoing the ordeals of the Hall and College. Making up his mind, therefore, to begin studying in earnest, he becomes a pro tempore member of a temperance society, pledging himself to abstain from immoderate beer for six months: he also purchases a coffee-pot, a reading-candlestick, and Steggall’s Manual; and then, contriving to accumulate five guineas to pay a “grinder,” he routs out his old note-books from the bottom of his box, and commences to “read for the Hall.”
Aspirants to honours in law, physic, or divinity, each know the value of private cramming—a process by which their brains are fattened, by abstinence from liquids and an increase of dry food (some of it very dry), like the livers of Strasbourg geese. There are grinders in each of these three professional classes; but the medical teacher is the man of the most varied and eccentric knowledge. Not only is he intimately acquainted with the different branches required to be studied, but he is also master of all their minutiæ. In accordance with the taste of the examiners, he learns and imparts to his class at what degree of heat water boils in a balloon—how the article of commerce, Prussian blue, is more easily and correctly defined as the Ferrosesquicyanuret of the cyanide of potassium—why the nitrous oxyde, or laughing gas, induces people to make such asses of themselves; and, especially, all sorts of individual inquiries, which, if continued at the present rate, will range from “Who discovered the use of the spleen?” to “Who killed cock robin?” for aught we know. They ask questions at the Hall quite as vague as these.
It is twelve o’clock at noon. In a large room, ornamented by shelves of bottles and preparations, with varnished prints of medical plants and cases of articulated bones and ligaments, a number of young men are seated round a long table covered with baize, in the centre of whom an intellectual-looking man, whose well-developed forehead shows the amount of knowledge it can contain, is interrogating by turns each of the students, and endeavouring to impress the points in question on their memories by various diverting associations. Each of his pupils, as he passes his examination, furnishes him with a copy of the subjects touched upon; and by studying these minutely, the private teacher forms a pretty correct idea of the general run of the “Hall questions.”
“Now, Mr. Muff,” says the gentleman to one of his class, handing him a bottle of something which appears like specimens of a chestnut colt’s coat after he had been clipped; “what’s that, sir?”
“That’s cow-itch, sir,” replies Mr. Muff.
“Cow what? You must call it at the Hall by its botanical name—dolichos pruriens. What is it used for?”
“To strew in people’s beds that you owe a grudge to,” replies Muff; whereat all the class laugh, except the last comer, who takes it all for granted, and makes a note of the circumstance in his interleaved manual.
“That answer would floor you,” continues the grinder. “The dolichos is used to destroy worms. How does it act, Mr. Jones?” going on to the next pupil—a man in a light cotton cravat and no shirt collar, who looks very like a butler out of place.
“It tickles them to death, sir,” answers Mr. Jones.
“You would say it acts mechanically,” observes the grinder. “The fine points stick into the worms and kill them. They say, ‘Is this a dagger which I see before me?’ and then die. Recollect the dagger, Mr. Jones, when you go up. Mr. Manhug, what do you consider the best sudorific, if you wanted to throw a person into a perspiration?”
Mr. Manhug, who is the wag of the class, finishes, in rather an abrupt manner, a song he was humming, sotto voce, having some allusion to a peer who was known as Thomas, Lord Noddy, having passed a night at a house of public entertainment in the Old Bailey previous to an execution. He then takes a pinch of snuff, winks at the other pupils as much as to say, “See me tackle him, now;” and replies, “The gallery door of Covent Garden on Boxing-night.”
“Now, come, be serious for once, Mr. Manhug,” continues the teacher; “what else is likely to answer the purpose?”
“I think a run up Holborn-hill, with two Ely-place knockers on your arm, and three policemen on your heels, might have a good effect,” answers Mr. Manhug.
“Do you ever think you will pass the Hall, if you go on at this rate?” observes the teacher, in a tone of mild reproach.
“Not a doubt of it, sir,” returns the imperturbable Manhug. “I’ve passed it twenty times within this last month, and did not find any very great difficulty about it; neither do I expect to, unless they block up Union-street and Water-lane.”
The grinder gives Mr. Manhug up as a hopeless case, and goes on to the next. “Mr. Rapp, they will be very likely to ask you the composition of the compound gamboge pill: what is it made of?”
Mr. Rapp hasn’t the least idea.
“Remember, then, it is composed of cambogia, aloes, ginger, and soap—C, A, G, S,—cags. Recollect Cags, Mr. Rapp. What would you do if you were sent for to a person poisoned by oxalic acid?”
“Give him some chalk,” returns Mr. Rapp.
“But suppose you had not got any chalk, what would you substitute?”
“Oh, anything; pipeclay and soapsuds.”
“Yes, that’s all very right; but we will presume you could not get any pipeclay and soapsuds; in fact, that there was nothing in the house. What would you do then?”
Mr. Manhug cries out from the bottom of the table—“Let him die and be ——!”
“Now, Mr. Manhug, I really must entreat of you to be more steady,” interrupts the professor. “You would scrape the ceiling with the fire-shovel, would you not? Plaster contains lime, and lime is an antidote. Recollect that, if you please. They like you to say you would scrape the ceiling, at the Hall: they think it shows a ready invention in emergency. Mr. Newcome, you have heard the last question and answer?”
“Yes sir,” says the fresh arrival, as he finishes making a note of it.
“Well; you are sent for, to a man who has hung himself. What would be your first endeavour?”
“To scrape the ceiling with the fire-shovel,” mildly observes Mr. Newcome; whereupon the class indulges in a hearty laugh, and Mr. Newcome blushes as deep as the red bull’s-eye of a New-road doctor’s lamp.
“What would you do, Mr. Manhug? perhaps you can inform Mr. Newcome.”
“Cut him down, sir,” answers the indomitable farceur.
“Well, well,” continues the teacher; “but we will presume he has been cut down. What would you strive to do next?”
“Cut him up, sir, if the coroner would give an order for a post mortem examination.”
“We have had no chemistry this morning,” observes one of the pupils.
“Very well, Mr. Rogers; we will go on with it if you wish. How would you endeavour to detect the presence of gold in any body?”
“By begging the loan of a sovereign, sir,” interrupts Mr. Manhug.
“If he knew you as well as I do, Manhug,” observes Mr. Jones, “he’d be sure to lend it—oh, yes!—I should rayther think so, certainly,” whereupon Mr. Jones compresses his nostril with the thumb of his right hand, and moves his fingers as if he was performing a concerto on an imaginary one handed flageolet.
“Mr. Rapp, what is the difference between an element and a compound body?”
Mr. Rapp is again obliged to confess his ignorance.
“A compound body is composed of two or more elements,” says the grinder, “in various proportions. Give me an example, Mr. Jones.”
“Half-and-half is a compound body, composed of the two elements, ale and porter, the proportion of the porter increasing in an inverse ratio to the respectability of the public-house you get it from,” replies Mr. Jones.
The professor smiles, and taking up a Pharmacopœia, says, “I see here directions for evaporating certain liquids ‘in a water-bath.’ Mr. Newcome, what is the most familiar instance of a water-bath you are acquainted with?”
“In High Holborn, sir; between Little Queen-street and Drury-lane,” returns Mr. Newcome.
“A water-bath means a vessel placed in boiling-water. Mr. Newcome, to keep it at a certain temperature. If you are asked at the Hall for the most familiar instance, they like you to say a carpenter’s glue-pot.”
And in like manner the grinding-class proceeds.
THE LORD MAYORS AND THE QUEEN.
By the Correspondent of the Observer.
The interesting condition of Her Majesty is a source of the most agonising suspense to the Lord Mayors of London and Dublin, who, if a Prince of Wales is not born before their period of office expires, will lose the chance of being created baronets.
According to rumour, the baby—we beg pardon, the scion of the house of Brunswick—was to have been born—we must apologise again; we should say was to have been added to the illustrious stock of the reigning family of Great Britain—some day last month, and of course the present Lord Mayors had comfortably made up their minds that they should be entitled to the dignity it is customary to confer on such occasions as that which the nation now ardently anticipates. But here we are at the beginning of November, and no Prince of Wales. We have reason to know that the Lord Mayor of London has not slept a wink since Saturday, and his lady has not smiled, according to an authority on which we are accustomed to rely, since Thursday fortnight. Some say it is done on purpose, because the present official is a Tory; and others insinuate that the Prince of Wales is postponed in order that there may be an opportunity of making Daniel O’Connell a baronet. Others suggest that there will be twins presented to the nation! one on the night of the 8th of November, the other on the morning of the 9th, so as to conciliate both parties; but we are not disposed at present to pronounce a decided opinion on this part of the question. We know that politics have been carried most indelicately into the very heart of the Royal Household; but we hope, for the honour of all parties, that the confinement of the Queen is not to be made a matter of political arrangement. If it is, we can only say that it will be most indecent, we might almost venture to say unbecoming; but our dislike to the use of strong language is well known, or at least it ought to be.
If there are any other particulars, we shall give them in a second edition; that is to say, if we should have anything to add, and should think it worth while to publish another impression for the purpose of stating it.
SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.—No. 10.
You talk of love—I would believe
Thy words were truth;
Nor deem that thou wouldst e’er deceive
My artless youth:
But when we part,
Within my heart
A small voice whispers low—
Beware! Beware!
Fond girl, the snare!
it’s all no go!
You talk of love—yet would betray
The heart you seek,
And smile upon its slow decay,
If ’twould not break.
In vain you swear
That I am fair,
That heaven is on my lip!
I know each vow
Is worthless now;
YOU’VE MISS’D YOUR TIP.
THE TWO NEW EQUITY JUDGES.
“Between the two new Equity Courts, the suitors in Chancery will be much better off than formerly”—said Fitzroy Kelly, lately, to an intimate. “Undoubtedly,” replied the friend, “they may now choose between the frying-pan and the fire.”
MR. PUNCH,
ARTIST IN PHILOSOPHY AND FIREWORKS11. Baylis.,
BEGS TO INFORM THE
HOBBEDEHOYITY AND INFANTRY OF THE METROPOLIS AND THE WORLD IN GENERAL,
That, for the proper commemoration of the anniversary of the 5th of November, he had engaged the services of the following
EMINENT THAMESIAN INCENDIARIES.
SIR PETER LAURIE, to furnish materials for squibs.
MR. ROEBUCK, for flower-pots, containing the beautiful figure of a genealogical tree.
COLONEL SIBTHORP, for sky-rockets being constructed after his own plan; warranted to flare up at starting, and to come down—a stick.
DANIEL O’CONNELL, Esq., for the importation of Roman candles,
MR. WAKLEY, SIR JAMES GRAHAM, LORD STANLEY, and SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, for Catherine-wheels, which are guaranteed to turn round with great celerity, and to exhibit curious designs.
LORD MINTO, for Chinese fire, prepared from the recipes of his gallant relative, the Honourable Captain Elliot, which have been procured at an immense outlay.—(See next year’s “Budget.”)
The MARQUIS OF WATERFORD, the celebrated Purveyor to the Police Force in general, for the supply of crackers.
MR. CHARLES PEARSON, for port-fires.
SIR ROBERT PEEL, assisted by his CABINET, for a golden rain.
*∗* A large supply of these articles always on hand. Apply at Mr. P.’s Office every Saturday.
AN EXTRACT FROM THE SPECTATOR.
Carter, the lion-tamer, previous to his late exhibition, when the tiger broke loose, had given an order to an old acquaintance to come and witness his performance; by great good luck, he and the rest of the affrighted spectators effected their escape; but he was heard vehemently declaring he had been deceived in the most beastly manner, as he would not have come but that he supposed he was
LOOKING IN UPON A FRIEND.
SHIP NEWS.
Off Battersea Mills, in the reeds, La Gitana (wherry Z.9), Execution Dock, with loss of sculls; deserted. On nearing her, discovered the Master with his wooden leg in the mud, to which he had made fast the head-line, with his left leg over his right shoulder, high and dry.
A boat, supposed to belong to the Union Aquatic Sons of Shop Walkers, was washed ashore on Hungerford Muds, with an old ribbon-box, apparently used for a sea-chest, containing wearing apparel, 1s. 8d. in fourpenny pieces, and sundry small pieces of paper, with “Dry,” sign of the “Three Balls,” printed thereon, and endorsed, “Shawl, 3s. 6d., 30 remnants of ribbon 7s. 6d., waistcoat satin, 1 yard 3s. 6d.,” &c. &c. The crew supposed to have abandoned her off the “Swan,” where they were seen in a state of beer.
CAUSE AND EFFECT.
A great fall of chalk occurred at Mertsham on the Brighton Railway on last Thursday morning; a corresponding fall in milk took place in London on the following day.
SHOULD THIS MEET THE EYE—
of Sir ROBERT PEEL, LORD STANLEY, or any of Her Majesty’s Ministers, in want of an active cad, or light porter; the advertiser, a young man at present out of place, would be anxious to make himself generally useful, and is not particular in what capacity. Respectability not so great an object as a good salary. Application to be made to T. WAKLEY, at the Rad’s Arms, Turn’em Green.
HARD AND FAST.
That very slow coach, and would be “faster,” the licensed to-carry-no-thing-inside “Bernard Cavannah,” has been recently confined in a room, wherein he has lived upon the “cameleon’s dish,” eating the air—“jugged,” we presume. Wakley declares he is an impostor; but as he has an interest in an inquest, and Bernard survives, this may be attributed to professional disappointment. Dr. Elliotson declares, from his own experience, any man can live upon nothing. The whole medical profession are getting to very high words; Anglice,—indulging in very low language. The fraternity of physicians, apothecaries, and surgeons, are growing so warm upon the living subject, that we may shortly expect to witness a beautiful tableau vivant of
SURGERE IN ARMIS.