“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.”