and lines upon the
margin of his "Quain's Anatomy," starts up, and observes--"Something about
the Paddington Canal running round a corner, sir."

"Now, Mr. Rapp, you must pay me a little more attention," expostulates the
teacher. "What does the operation for cataract resemble in a familiar
point of view?"

"Pushing a boat-hook through the wall of a house to pull back the
drawing-room blinds," answers Mr. Rapp.

"You are incorrigible," says the teacher, smiling at the simile, which
altogether is an apt one. "Did you ever see a case of bad cataract?"

"Yes, sir, ever-so-long ago--the Cataract of the Ganges at Astley's. I
went to the gallery, and had a mill with--"

"There, we don't want particulars," interrupts the grinder; "but I would
recommend you to mind your eyes, especially if you get under Guthrie. Mr.
Muff, how do you define an ulcer?"

"The establishment of a raw," replies Mr. Muff.

"Tit! tit! tit!" continues the teacher, with an expression of pity. "Mr.
Simpson, perhaps you can tell Mr. Muff what an ulcer is?"

"An abrasion of the cuticle produced by its own absorption," answers Mr.
Simpson, all in a breath.

"Well. I maintain it's easier to say a _raw_ than all that," observes Mr.
Muff.

"Pray, silence. Mr. Manhug, have you ever been sent for to a bad incised
wound?"

"Yes, sir, when I was an apprentice: a man using a chopper cut off his
hand."

"And what did you do?"

"Cut off myself for the governor, like a two-year old."

"But now you have no governor, what plan would you pursue in a similar
case?"

"Send for the nearest doctor--call him in."

"Yes, yes, but suppose he wouldn't come?"

"Call him out, sir."

"Pshaw! you are all quite children," exclaims the teacher. "Mr. Simpson,
of what is bone chemically composed?"

"Of earthy matter, or _phosphate of lime_, and animal matter, or
_gelatine_."

"Very good, Mr. Simpson. I suppose you don't know a great deal a bout
bones, Mr. Rapp?"

"Not much, sir. I haven't been a great deal in that line. They give a
penny for three pounds in Clare Market. That's what I call popular
osteology."

"Gelatine enters largely into the animal fibres," says the leader,
gravely. "Parchment, or skin, contains an important quantity, and is used
by cheap pastry-cooks to make jellies."

"Well, I've heard of eating your _words_," says Mr. Rapp, "but never your
_deeds_."

"Oh! oh! oh!" groan the pupils at this gross appropriation, and the class
getting