Some
of the students are marching up and down the room in feverish
restlessness; others, arm in arm, are worrying each other to death with
questions; and the rest are grinding away to the last minute at a manual,
or trying to write minute atomic numbers on their thumb-nail.
The clock strikes five, and Mr. Sayer enters the room, exclaiming--"Mr.
Manhug, Mr. Jones, Mr. Saxby, and Mr. Collins." The four depart to the
chamber of examination, where the medical inquisition awaits them, with
every species of mental torture to screw their brains instead of their
thumbs, and rack their intellects instead of their limbs,--the chair on
which the unfortunate student is placed being far more uneasy than the
tightest fitting "Scavenger's daughter" in the Tower of London. After an
anxious hour, Mr. Jones returns, with a light bounding step to a joyous
extempore air of his own composing: he has passed. In another twenty
minutes Mr. Saxby walks fiercely in, calls for his hat, condemns the
examiners _ad inferos_, swears he shall cut the profession, and marches
away. He has been plucked; and Mr. Muff, who stands sixth on the list, is
called on to make his appearance before the awful tribunal.
* * * * *
REGULARLY CALLED IN--AND BOWLED OUT.
Dr. Demosthenes &c. &c. &c. &c. Bedford, who has lately broken out in a
new place, has been accused by the lieges of the Borough of having acted
in a most unprofessional manner; in short, with having lost his
_patience_.
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