“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.”