KIRCHOFF, a Prussian chemist, is reported to have discovered a process by which milk may be preserved for an indefinite period.  Fresh milk is evaporated by a very gentle heat till it is reduced to a dry powder, which is to be kept perfectly dry in a bottle.  When required for use it need only be diluted with a sufficient quantity of water.  Mr. James Jones, who keeps a red cow—­over his door—­claims the original idea of making milk from a white powder, which, he states, may be done without the tedious process of evaporation, by using an article entirely known to London milk-vendors—­namely chalk.

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OH GEMINI!

At the close of the Civic Festival last week, Sir William Follett inquired of the Recorder if he had seen his Castor.  “No,” replied Law (holding up the Attorney-General’s fifty-seven penn’orth), “but here is your brother Pollock’s” (Pollux.)

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“Well,” said Sir Peter Hobler the other morning, “I should think you will be denied the entree to the Palace after your decision of Saturday.”  “Why so?” inquired the knight of leather.  “For fear you should cut off the heir to the Throne!” screamed Hobler, and vanished.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 1.

FOR THE WEEK ENDING NOVEMBER 27, 1841.

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THE PHYSIOLOGY OF THE LONDON MEDICAL STUDENT.

9.—­OF THE SEQUEL TO THE HALL EXAMINATION.

[Illustration:  W]Whilst Mr. Muff follows the beadle from the funking-room to the Council Chamber, he scarcely knows whether he is walking upon his head or his heels; if anything, he believes that he is adopting the former mode of locomotion; nor does he recover a sense of his true position until he finds himself seated at one end of a square table, the other three sides whereof are occupied by the same number of gentlemen of grave and austere bearing, with all the candles in the room apparently endeavouring to imitate that species of eccentric dance which he has only seen the gas-lamps attempt occasionally as he has returned home from his harmonic society.  The table before him is invitingly spread with pharmacopoeias, books of prescriptions, trays of drugs, and half-dead plants; and upon these subjects, for an hour and a half, he is compelled to answer questions.

We will not follow his examination:  nobody was ever able to see the least joke in it; and therefore it is unfitted for our columns.  We can but state that after having been puzzled, bullied, “caught,” quibbled with, and abused, for the above space of time, his good genius prevails, and he is told he may retire.  Oh! the pleasure with which he re-enters the funking-room—­that nice, long, pleasant room, with its cheerful fireplace and good substantial book-cases, and valuable books, and excellent old-fashioned furniture; and the capital tea which the worshipful company allows him—­never was meal so exquisitely relished.  He has passed the Hall! won’t he have a flare-up to-night!—­that’s all.