"The fine
points stick into the worms and kill them. They say, 'Is this a dagger
which I see before me?' and then die. Recollect the dagger, Mr. Jones,
when you go up. Mr. Manhug, what do you consider the best sudorific, if
you wanted to throw a person into a perspiration?"
Mr. Manhug, who is the wag of the class, finishes, in rather an abrupt
manner, a song he was humming, _sotto voce_, having some allusion to a
peer who was known as Thomas, Lord Noddy, having passed a night at a house
of public entertainment in the Old Bailey previous to an execution. He
then takes a pinch of snuff, winks at the other pupils as much as to say,
"See me tackle him, now;" and replies, "The gallery door of Covent Garden
on Boxing-night."
"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.
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