of subjects; anatomy and surgery being the principal points.

Our old friends are assembled to prepare for their last examination, in a
room fragrant with the amalgamated odours of stale tobacco-smoke,
varnished bones, leaky preparations, and gin-and-water. Large anatomical
prints depend from the walls, and a few vertebræ, a lower jaw, and a
sphenoid bone, are scattered upon the table.

"To return to the eye, gentlemen," says the grinder; "recollect the
Petitian Canal surrounds the Cornea. Mr. Rapp, what am I talking about?"

Mr. Rapp, who is drawing a little man out of dots 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.