t, 'you see you
don't know the least what you're doing with all these things; and now,
mind, you must give up practising chemistry by yourself.' Then he took
hold of his arm and looked at it, and I saw he had to bite his lip, and
his eyes twinkled; but he said, quite grave, 'Here, you see, you've been
making all these foolish marks on yourself, which you can never get out,
and you'll be very sorry for it in a year or two. Now come down to the
housekeeper's room, and let us see if you are hurt.' And away went
the two, and we all stayed and had a regular turn-out of the den, till
Martin came back with his hand bandaged and turned us out. However, I'll
go and see what he's after, and tell him to come in after prayers to
supper." And away went Tom to find the boy in question, who dwelt in a
little study by himself, in New Row.

The aforesaid Martin, whom Arthur had taken such a fancy for, was one of
those unfortunates who were at that time of day (and are, I fear, still)
quite out of their places at a public school. If we knew how to use
our boys, Martin would have been seized upon and educated as a natural
philosopher. He had a passion for birds, beasts, and insects, and knew
more of them and their habits than any one in Rugby--except perhaps the
Doctor, who knew everything. He was also an experimental chemist on a
small scale, and had made unto himself an electric machine, from which
it was his greatest pleasure and glory to administer small shocks to any
small boys who were rash enough to venture into his study. And this
was by no means an adventure free from excitement; for besides the
probability of a snake dropping on to your head or twining lovingly up
your leg, or a rat getting into your breeches-pocket in search of food,
there was the animal and chemical odour to be faced, which always hung
about the den, and the chance of being blown up in some of the many
experiments which Martin was always trying, with the most wondrous
results in the shape of explosions and smells that mortal boy ever heard
of. Of course, poor Martin, in consequence of his pursuits, had become
an Ishmaelite in the house. In the first place, he half-poisoned all his
neighbours, and they in turn were always on the lookout to pounce upon
any of his numerous live-stock, and drive him frantic by enticing his
pet old magpie out of his window into a neighbouring study, and making
the disreputable old bird drunk on toast soaked in beer and sugar. Then