The veterinary lecturer at Cirencester College told me that during the
cattle plague in the sixties he had a coat well worth L50 to any
veterinary surgeon, so impregnated was it with the infection. This man
was fond of scoring off the students, and had a habit at the
commencement of each lecture of holding a short _viva voce_
examination on the subject of the last. I remember when the tables
were turned upon him by a ready-witted student. The lecturer, who was
a superior veterinary surgeon, detailed a whole catalogue of
exaggerated symptoms exhibited by an imaginary horse, and selecting
his victim added, with a chuckle, "Now, Mr. K., perhaps you will
kindly tell us what treatment you would adopt under these
circumstances?" K. was not a very diligent student, and the lecturer
expected a display of ignorance, but his anticipated triumph was cut
short by the reply: "Well, if I had a horse as bad as all that _I_
should send for the vet." The lecturer expostulated, but could get
nothing further out of K., and was forced to recognize that the
general laugh which followed was against himself.
At a _post-mortem_, however, he was more successful in his choice of a
butt. A dead horse with organs exposed was the object before the
class, and the lecturer was asking questions as to their
identification. "Now, Mr.
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