"Take the book, gentlemen. You shall well and truly try—"
"I beg this court's pardon," said the chemist, who was a tall, thin, yellow-visaged man, "but I hope this court will excuse my attendance."
"On what grounds, sir?" said Mr. Justice Stareleigh.
"I have no assistant, my Lord," said the chemist.
"I can't help that, sir," replied Mr. Justice Stareleigh. "You should hire one."
"I can't afford it, my Lord," rejoined the chemist.
"Then you ought to be able to afford it, sir," said the judge, reddening; for Mr. Justice Stareleigh's temper bordered on the irritable, and brooked not contradiction.
"I know I ought to do, if I got on as well as I deserved, but I don't, my Lord," answered the chemist.
"Swear the gentleman," said the judge, peremptorily.
The officer had got no further than the "You shall well and truly try," when he was again interrupted by the chemist.
"I am to be sworn, my Lord, am I?" said the chemist.
"Certainly, sir," replied the testy little judge.
"Very well, my Lord," replied the chemist, in a resigned manner. "Then there'll be murder before this trial's over; that's all. Swear me, if you please, sir;" and sworn the chemist was, before the judge could find words to utter.
"I merely wanted to observe, my Lord," said the chemist, taking his seat with great deliberation, "that I've left nobody but an errand-boy in my shop. He is a very nice boy, my Lord, but he is not acquainted with drugs; and I know that the prevailing impression on his mind is, that Epsom salts means oxalic acid; and syrup of senna, laudanum. That's all, my Lord." With this, the tall chemist composed himself into a comfortable attitude, and, assuming a pleasant expression of countenance, appeared to have prepared himself for the worst.
Mr. Pickwick was regarding the chemist with feelings of the deepest horror, when a slight sensation was perceptible
