"It tickles them to death, sir," answers Mr. Jones.
"You would say it acts mechanically," observes the grinder. "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.
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