A curious story is related by the late Sir Richard Quain that came under his experience, and one which would have proved a profound mystery to this day but for his practical knowledge and acumen. He was asked to make a post-mortem examination on the body of a man who was by trade a stone-mason. To continue the story in his own words, "One day, on coming in to his dinner, he went into the scullery, washed his hands, and, going into the kitchen, he said to his wife, 'It is all over; I have taken poison.' 'What have you taken?' 'Arsenic,' he replied, and she at once took him off to the Western General Dispensary. The senior surgeon was out when they got there, but two young pupils of his happened to be in, who thought it was a very important case, and they would treat it pretty actively. So they gave him tartar emetic, pumped out the stomach, and pumped oxide of iron into it, and a good many other operations they performed. The poor man was extremely ill, and died in twenty-four hours. The coroner's beadle went to the chemist and said: 'How did you come to sell this man poison?' He replied, 'I sold him no poison; I thought he was off his head when he came.' 'What did you give him?' 'Oh, I gave him some alum and cream of tartar and labelled it poison.' He swallowed this, in the belief it was arsenic," says Sir Richard. "When I made the post-mortem examination, to my amazement I found a great deal of _arsenic_ in the stomach. This was rather puzzling. I said, if it is in the stomach it ought to go farther down. So I searched the intestines, but there was no trace of arsenic anywhere. The simple explanation of it was this, these two young fellows, horrified to find the man had died without taking arsenic after all, pumped some into the stomach." Another instance that terminated in a less tragic manner, in which a would-be suicide was frustrated by a watchful chemist, happened some years ago. One morning a tall, decently dressed man, of seafaring aspect, entered a chemist's shop in the neighbourhood of the docks of a northern seaport, and in a solemn and confidential manner asked for a shilling's worth of _strong_ laudanum. "For what purpose do you require it?" asked the chemist. "Well, you see, sir," the man explained, "I've just come off a voyage from 'Frisco, and I find my sweetheart has gone off with Jim, you see, sir, and now it's all up with me. Give me a strong dose, please, and if you don't think a shilling's worth will be enough----" "But, my good man----" interrupted the chemist. "I'll shoot myself if not, sir, I will." "All right, then," said the chemist; and, seeing argument was useless, he proceeded to mix an innocent but nauseous draught of aloes. "Now put in a shilling's worth of arsenic." "Very well," replied the chemist, adding some harmless magnesia. "And you might as well throw in a shilling's worth of prussic acid," said the broken-hearted lover.