“The officer had got no further than the ‘You shall well and truly try’ when he was again interrupted by the chemist.
“‘I am to be sworn, my lord, am I?’ said the chemist.
“‘Certainly, sir,’ replied the testy little judge.
“‘Very well, my lord,’ replied the chemist in a resigned manner. ‘Then there’ll be murder before this trial’s over: that’s all. Swear me if you please, sir.’ And sworn the chemist was before the judge could find words to utter.
“‘I merely wanted to observe, my lord,’ said the chemist, taking his seat with great deliberation, ‘that I’ve left nobody but an errand boy in my shop. He is a very nice boy, my lord, but he is not acquainted with drugs; and I know that the prevailing impression in his mind is, that Epsom salts means oxalic acid, and syrup of senna, laudanum. That’s all, my lord.’ With this, the tall chemist composed himself into a comfortable attitude, and, assuming a pleasant expression of countenance, appeared to have prepared himself for the worst.”
This little sketch shows the disabilities the chemist laboured under before he was exempted from jury service, and the intimate knowledge Dickens had of almost every phase of life on which he wrote.
In Oliver Twist he gives us an instance of prompt prescribing on the part of the parochial doctor’s assistant and dispenser, related by Bumble.
Mr. Bumble betakes himself to the undertaker’s shop to arrange for the funeral.
“‘Bayton,’ said the undertaker looking from the scrap of paper to Mr. Bumble; ‘I never heard the name before.’
“Bumble shook his head as he replied, ‘Obstinate people, Mr. Sowerberry—very obstinate. Proud, too, I’m afraid, sir.’