Seven o’clock
` _ Half-past six _ . ` I am again in bed . Anything so heart-rending as Mr. Slug 's sufferings it has never yet been my lot to witness . ' ` _ Seven o'clock _ . ` A messenger has just come down for a clean pocket-handkerchief from Professor Woodensconce 's bag , that unfortunate gentleman being quite unable to leave the deck , and imploring constantly to be thrown overboard . From this man I understand that Professor Nogo , though in a state of utter exhaustion , clings feebly to the hard biscuit and cold brandy and water , under the impression that they will yet restore him . Such is the triumph of mind over matter .