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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f19e78e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50618 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50618) diff --git a/old/50618-0.txt b/old/50618-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ddc9119..0000000 --- a/old/50618-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4164 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Oxford Days, by Frederic Edward Weatherly - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Oxford Days - or How Ross Got His Degree - -Author: Frederic Edward Weatherly - -Release Date: December 5, 2015 [EBook #50618] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OXFORD DAYS *** - - - - -Produced by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet -Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - - - - - - OXFORD DAYS; - OR, - HOW ROSS GOT HIS DEGREE. - - BY A RESIDENT M.A. - - London: - SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, - CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET. - 1879. - [_All rights reserved._] - - LONDON: - GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, - ST. JOHN’S SQUARE. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -“Oxford Days” is not shaped on the lines of either _Verdant Green_ or -_Tom Brown at Oxford_. Its purpose, rather, is to furnish a practical -guide to all the features of University life; but it has been thought -that, by adopting the narrative form, the dry bones of a handbook may -be made to live. - -_Oxford_, 1879. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - CHAPTER I. - - GONE TO OXFORD 1 - - CHAPTER II. - - AN OXFORD SUNDAY 23 - - CHAPTER III. - - THE FRESHMAN’S TERM 39 - - CHAPTER IV. - - THE EIGHTS 51 - - CHAPTER V. - - THE LONG VACATION 68 - - CHAPTER VI. - - “THE FLYING TERMS” 77 - - CHAPTER VII. - - A READING PARTY 88 - - CHAPTER VIII. - - IN THE THICK OF IT 120 - - CHAPTER IX. - - THE CLOSE 139 - - CHAPTER X. - - GOWN AT LAST 149 - - - - -OXFORD DAYS; OR, HOW ROSS GOT HIS DEGREE. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -GONE TO OXFORD. - - -There was a long discussion between the Vicar of Porchester and -Mr. Ross, the lawyer, as they walked together after evening service -to the vicarage. Frank Ross was just eighteen, the eldest of six -brothers. He was still at school, but it was time for him to go to the -University. Oxford had been chosen--not from any notion of superiority -to Cambridge, but simply because of school and home associations. -The difficulty was the choice of a college. The vicar--a well-to-do -bachelor--an old Eton and Christ-Church man, advised his own college. -But Mr. Ross was frightened. “Christ-Church” to him had ever been a -terror, and meant waste of time and money, in the shape of cards, -drink, and horse-flesh; and all the vicar’s eloquence could not shake -his unfounded prejudice. The result of the discussion was that Mr. Ross -decided to write to a friend at Oxford, settled there as a “coach;” and -also to Mr. Rickards, a country doctor, with a family larger even than -his own. The doctor’s answer was as follows:-- - - “DEAR ROSS,--My boy is going to Brasenose: at least, he goes - up in May to try for a close scholarship. I can give you no - advice, as I know nothing about the place. I sent him to the - Hereford Cathedral School by a fluke some years ago; and as - there are scholarships and exhibitions from the school to - Brasenose, I am saved the difficulty of choosing a college. - - “Yours truly, - - “W. RICKARDS.” - -The vicar explained that a “close” scholarship was, like other -scholarships, a sum of money paid annually for four or five years as a -prize, but differed from them in being confined to competition among -boys from certain schools; and that the value of them varied from -45_l._ to 80_l._ per annum, part being paid in money, and part made -up in allowances in the way of diminished fees. The letter from the -“coach” was more valuable:-- - - “DEAR MR. ROSS,--So much depends on your son’s abilities, your - own means and wishes, that I cannot answer your question as to - the best college, off-hand. I think I may assume that you do - not want him to spend more money than is absolutely necessary; - and possibly that you would wish him to ‘go in for honours’ - instead of taking a Pass Degree, that is, offering the smallest - possible number of subjects for examination. I need hardly say - that a high degree in honours opens the way to a Fellowship, - or at any rate to good masterships in schools; and is, in - fact, a distinct help, directly and indirectly, not only in - educational, but in all professions. - - “It is far better for a lad to go to a good college, even - though he is unable to obtain a scholarship or any other - college endowment, than to go to an inferior college, where he - may succeed in getting pecuniary assistance. To illustrate what - I mean: I believe, in the long run, it would be wiser to send - your son as a commoner to Balliol than as a scholar to Wadham. - If, from a pecuniary point of view, you do not care for him - to get a scholarship, nor want him to read for honours, and - are not particular as to whether he spends 300_l._ or 500_l._ - a year (or even more), I should send him to Christ-Church, - Brasenose, Exeter, or University. The first two especially were - in my day emphatically popular colleges, and I believe are so - still. But I would not send him to either unless you are fully - prepared for the amount of expenditure which I have named. - Possibly you might like our only denominational college--Keble. - He would be most carefully looked after in every way, and - his expenses kept within a fixed limit. The Warden and - Tutors devote their whole energies to their men, and the men - themselves speak in the most affectionate terms of them--a most - exceptional fact, I assure you. But I must warn you that the - religious tone of the college is distinctly pronounced, and - inclines to ritualistic rather than to evangelical doctrines. - - “If your son’s college life will be a pinch to you (you - will allow me to speak thus plainly on such a question), - send him as an Unattached Student. But here, again, you and - he should clearly understand that the life of an unattached - student is isolated, and quite unlike the life of the college - undergraduate. The only exception to this statement is when an - undergraduate migrates, as for various reasons sometimes he - is obliged, from his college to the body of the Unattached. - His society, being already formed, remains unbroken. I should - fancy your choice will lie between New College, Corpus, Paul’s, - and Balliol. A scholarship at either means that the scholar - is capable, with industry, of gaining the highest honours in - his future University examinations. On the whole, I think, I - incline to Paul’s. Unfortunately, you have just missed the - examination for scholarships. There is, however, an ordinary - matriculation examination for commoners in about three weeks’ - time. If your son holds a good position in his school, he ought - to have no difficulty in passing even at this short notice, for - the subjects are those which are read in forms lower than the - highest at all schools. I shall be happy to do anything further - in the matter for you that I can. He should come prepared for - residence, in the event of his passing. The examination begins - on the Wednesday after Easter, and will be over in time for - successful candidates to ‘come into residence’ with the other - men on the following Saturday. You should send an application - to the Master of Paul’s at once. I enclose a list of subjects - and fees, and am - - “Yours truly, - - “PHILIP WODEHOUSE.” - - “SUBJECTS FOR MATRICULATION AT PAUL’S.[1] - - “1. Translation from English into Latin prose. - - “2. Translation into English of an unprepared passage - of Attic Greek. - - “3. Translation of some portion of a Greek and Latin - author (to be selected by the candidate), with parsing - and general grammar questions. - - “4. Arithmetic, including Vulgar and Decimal Fractions - and Interest. - - “5. Euclid, Books I. and II.; _or_ Algebra, to Simple - Equations. - - “FEES. - - “(_a_) To the University at Matriculation 2_l._ 10_s._ - - “(_b_) To the College, as caution-money 30_l._[2] - - “Room-rent varies from 10_l._ to 16_l._ per annum. - This does not include furniture, which must be taken - at a valuation from the previous tenant; 25_l._ is an - average valuation-price. China, glass, linen, plate, - and household necessaries must all be procured. It - is wiser to bring plate and linen. The rest may be - purchased from the ‘scout’ (servant) apportioned to the - rooms. For this, say 10_l._ The immediate payments, - therefore, amount to 2_l._ 10_s._ + 30_l._ + 10_l._ = - 42_l._ 10_s._ The payment for the furniture must be - made early in term; and the establishment charges, - tuition fees, expenses of board and rent, are paid - terminally.”[3] - -So Paul’s was chosen, and a letter of application forwarded to the -Master;[4] and Frank, who was then at home for the Easter vacation, -commenced polishing up his work in view of the approaching examination. -On Easter Tuesday he left home by an early train, with a note to Mr. -Wodehouse in his pocket. That gentleman entertained him at dinner with -a long list of examination stories, and about nine o’clock marched him -off to the Clarendon Hotel, where, with a word to the landlady, he left -him, nervous at the thought of the morrow, but conscious of his own -dignity and the near approach of the manhood which is supposed to date -from matriculation. - -It was with some difficulty that Frank preserved his self-composure -in the presence of the waiters, as he sat at breakfast in the -“Clarendon” coffee-room. He did not particularly enjoy his meal, and, -in obedience to Mr. Wodehouse’s injunctions, left at half-past nine -to make his way to Paul’s. After one or two mistakes, he succeeded in -finding the college gates. His anxiety as to his next step was set at -rest by the sight that met him. About a dozen boys (to be called men -after matriculation) were hanging about the Lodge, in various typical -conditions of mind and body--some completely at their ease, chatting -unconcernedly; others standing nervously alone. Most wore black coats -and chimney-pot hats--the costume that only a few years ago was -rigorously insisted on. A few through ignorance, or in obedience to the -spirit of the day, wore defiantly light suits and bowler hats. Frank, -to his great delight, found a school-fellow whose coming up had, like -his own, been hurriedly decided in the vacation. The two friends had -not much time for conversation, for in a few minutes a respectable -middle-aged man, whom they knew afterwards to be the Porter, said, “You -are to walk this way, gentlemen, please,” and conducted them to the -College-Hall. It is a fine old place, with dark oak panels, coloured -windows, portraits, and coats-of-arms; and to the boy up in Oxford -for his first visit, and that visit so solemn a one as matriculation, -there is an unspeakable charm, and a novelty sobered into grandeur, -about everything. How the grave faces of the college founders and -celebrities looked down upon the wondering eyes! Bishop and knight, -king and duchess--there they stared! How the light streamed through -the coloured windows! Who could tell? Perhaps one day, Frank thought, -when he was a rich man, he might have that one vacant window filled, or -some of his descendants might present to the college a portrait of Sir -Francis Ross, attired in wig and gown, one of Her Majesty’s--or rather, -perhaps, His Majesty’s--judges, if not Lord Chancellor. - -He started abruptly from his dreams, and came back to the first rung -on the ladder that was leading to such prospective fame. There before -him stretched three lines of tables and benches down the length of the -hall. Across the end, on a slightly-raised daïs, ran another table, -where the handsome chairs indicated beings superior to undergraduates. -It was, in fact, the High table, where the Master and Fellows dined, -and any resident Masters of Arts who cared to do so. - -This morning it was devoted to the more serious purposes of -examination. Ten ink-bottles, fifteen blotting-pads, fifteen sheets of -white paper printed, with a few sheets of blue paper and two or three -quill pens lying by each: that was the fare this morning--“the feast -of reason” that was in such strong contrast to the “flow of soul” that -would grace the table at six o’clock that evening. - -One of the junior Fellows was in charge of the examination. He was -reading the _Times_ as Frank and his companions entered, sitting on -the table, with his legs dangling in a graceful attitude of studied -negligence. He took no notice of the victims, till the Porter had -conducted them to the table and motioned them to take seats. Then he -looked up from his newspaper and said,-- - -“You will have till half-past twelve. Write your names clearly; and -please bear in mind that we expect answers from both books of Euclid.” - -Then he resumed his newspaper and adopted a more dignified attitude. - -Frank looked at his questions. Eleven in all; some definitions, six -propositions from the first book, and four from the second. He wrote -his name at the head of his paper, and made a great blot in doing so. -His hand grew hot. He dashed at the first definition,-- - -“_A circle is a plane figure contained in one straight line._” - -His pen spluttered warningly at the word _straight_. A blot fell, and -fell luckily on the fatal word. He tore up the paper and commenced -again. - -Making a good start, his hands grew cool, his head calm; and with the -old portraits beaming upon him, away he wrote. He completed the six -propositions of the first book; then, pausing for breath, saw that -almost everybody else had his watch on the table. Frank pulled out his. -_A quarter to twelve!_ He had blundered, he knew. He ought to have -timed himself, and left more time for the second book. However, his -success had put him at his ease, for he knew all the propositions well -so far; and he buckled-to vigorously. By hard writing he managed to do -three propositions. The last was the thirteenth. He knew he could not -do it in five minutes, and he must allow himself time to read over his -work. He had barely done even this when the papers were collected, and -they were dismissed, with instructions to appear again at two. - -Frank went out with his friend, discussing the Euclid paper. - -They lunched together at the “Clarendon,” wisely confining themselves -to a little cold meat and sherry, and at two o’clock were again -hard at work at Latin prose. It was a piece from “Pilgrim’s -Progress”--something about Giant Despair, his wife, and her bed. And -judging from the various unhappy faces, an observer might have thought -that the choice of the giant was somewhat prophetical. Frank, however, -had done, not the identical piece, but several pieces in the same style -before, and accordingly did not find so much difficulty. - -Out at four o’clock, they strolled down Oriel Street, past Corpus, by -Merton Church, and into Christ-Church Broad Walk; and meeting three -friends, also up for matriculation at some other college, took a boat -from Salter’s and rowed to Iffley, Frank steering. - -Luckily the river was not crowded, as in full term, or the erratic -course which Frank steered would have brought down upon him the shrill -abuse of some eight-oar’s coxswain, even if not a quiet spill into the -water. - -Thursday passed much in the same way: Frank, on the whole, satisfied -with his work; Monkton, his friend, somewhat desponding. The hours -after work would have been dull had there not been so much to see. -The friends mooned about till half-past six, and then had meat-tea at -Monkton’s lodgings in Ship Street; and with “Verdant Green” and the -“Mysteries of the Isis” beguiled the evening till they turned into bed. -What a relief it was when Friday morning came, and with it the last -paper! At two that afternoon they were met in the Lodge by the Porter, -who had an important-looking paper in his hands. - -“Please to wait a moment, gentlemen,” he said, as all the candidates -were hurrying off across the quadrangle to the hall; “these are the -gentlemen that are to go for _vivâ voce_.” And he proceeded to read out -six names, among which Frank and Monkton, to their great delight, heard -their own. They hardly thought of the disconsolate nine who, hearing -the last name on the list, hopelessly oozed one by one out at the -Lodge-gates. - -Reaching the hall, the chosen six found the Master and six of the -Fellows, all attired in cap, gown, and dignity, seated at the High -table. They were told to sit down at one side of the hall, and then, -one by one, were summoned to that awful table and examined. Monkton’s -ordeal came first, and it was a trying one. He was first questioned -(very sharply, as it seemed to Frank) on some of his papers, and -then given some written questions and sent to a side table. Frank -was not aware, then, that this process--familiarly known as “second -paper”--meant that Monkton’s success hung by a thread on the result -of his work this afternoon. His own turn came next. The Fellow who -examined him saw he was nervous, and, as usual with almost every -examiner, spoke pleasantly and reassuringly to him. - -“Take your Greek Testament, Mr. Ross,” he said, “and turn to the fifth -chapter of St. Matthew, and translate the first six verses.” - -Frank turned to the passage indicated. He knew it at a glance, and -that reassured him; and when he was next told to open a “Cicero” that -was lying on the table he felt comparatively at his ease. He got -through about six lines of the Second Philippic, and was then asked a -few disconnected questions. - -“Do you know what circumstances led to the delivery of this speech?” - -He did know, but words failed him, and he bungled. - -“Never mind,” answered the examiner. “Who was Hannibal? and what -battles did he fight?” - -Frank answered, naming them. - -“What is the construction after verbs of commanding in Latin?” - -“Can you mention any of our Lord’s parables which teach the duty of -watchfulness?” and so forth. - -Then came the pleasant dismissal,-- - -“That will do, thank you. You need not wait.” - -Frank departed, and, making friends with the Porter, told him all that -had passed. - -“Ah! you’re all right, sir,” said George; and George’s statement -proved true. - -In about three-quarters of an hour the Master and Fellows came out of -the hall and dispersed to their respective rooms, and presently George -appeared with a piece of blue paper, which he nailed on the gate. Five -names--Frank’s second, and Monkton’s absent. - -“Those gentlemen that mean to reside this term,” said George, “are to -call on the Dean between five and six this evening, and bring their -fees. Those that don’t are to leave Oxford at once, and notice will be -sent to them in the Long Vacation before next term begins.” - -Frank meant to reside, and was one of the first to call on the Dean. -That gentleman received him courteously; told him he had done very -fairly in the examination; hoped he would read hard and be steady; -asked him his name, age, father’s name, residence, and profession, -and various other particulars, all of which he entered in a book; -received his caution-money (30_l._), and told him to ask the Porter the -staircase and number of the rooms allotted to him. - -“Be here,” he added, as Frank was leaving, “at a quarter to ten -to-morrow morning, that I may take you before the Vice-Chancellor.” - -At the Porter’s advice, Frank took a cab and drove to the “Clarendon,” -paid his bill, got his luggage together, and drove back to college. By -this time the Porter had the list of the newly-allotted rooms. - -“Yours are No. 5, sir, three-pair right.” - -Frank stared. - -“No. 5 over the doorway, sir,” he then explained, pointing across the -quadrangle to a doorway, over which Frank discerned the wished-for -number; “three flights o’ stairs; the rooms on the right hand. No. 5, -three-pair right--that’s how we call it. You’ll find your scout there. -You’re too late for dinner. The hall-bell went twenty minutes ago.” - -Frank crossed the quadrangle, climbed the stairs, and found his rooms. -They were neither large, nor particularly clean, as regarded paper and -paint; and the carpets and coverings were decidedly dingy. But they -were _his_ rooms, and he was an Oxford man! and that was _his_ scout -bustling in from the rooms opposite to welcome him. After a little -conversation, the fact of his ownership became still more apparent, for -the scout proceeded to show him a collection of glass and china and -household implements, on the merits and absolute necessity of which -he enlarged. The mere transfer of glass and china supplies a nice -little addition to the scout’s perquisites. The articles are, in the -first instance, purchased by some undergraduate who prefers his own -choice to what his scout has ready to offer him. He, on leaving his -rooms, bequeaths them to his scout. Custom is so tyrannical in Oxford. -The scout sells the articles to the next tenant, who, in his turn, -bequeaths them to the same willing legatee, when again they are sold to -the new-comer. How long this goes on it is hard to say. Sometimes the -smooth course is interrupted by some strong-minded undergraduate, who, -ignoring custom, takes his effects with him when he leaves. The little -bill was as follows:-- - -FRANK ROSS, ESQ., _to_ WILLIAM GREEN. - - £ _s._ _d._ - 3 Cut-glass Decanters 2 0 0 - Claret Jug 1 0 0 - 3 dozen Wine-glasses (mixed) 1 10 0 - 8 Tumblers 0 9 6 - A Dessert Set 0 18 0 - 15 Dinner Plates 0 13 6 - 7 Cheese Plates 0 5 6 - Tea Set, consisting of Milk Jug, Sugar Basin, Bowl, 8 - Breakfast Cups, 6 Tea Cups, 9 Plates (all mixed) 2 2 0 - Metal Tea-pot 0 7 6 - Broom 0 8 0 - Dustpan and Brush 0 3 6 - 6 Dusters 0 6 0 - 6 Tea-cloths 0 6 0 - ----------- - £9 19 6 - =========== - -Shortly afterwards, as Frank was unpacking, a youth of most obsequious -manners arrived, carrying a cap and gown for the Freshman, who received -them with a murmur of gratified pleasure, making no inquiries about the -cost or who had given the order; considering that, of course, what was -thus sent must be _en règle_. The bill arrived within a week, with a -polite intimation that payment was not requested, and an invitation to -inspect the stock of the obliging tailors. - -FRANK ROSS, ESQ., _to_ Cutter and Co. - - _s._ _d._ - A College Cap 7 6 - A Commoner’s Gown 15 0 - ---------- - £1 2 6 - ========== - -Three years later, when pressed by duns and threatened with proceedings -in the Vice-Chancellor’s Court, Frank remembered these gentle -disclaimers of any wish for payment. - -What with talking to his scout and unpacking, nine o’clock soon -arrived: the hour when the kitchen and buttery were opened for supper. -William suggested that his master would like some supper, and in a -short time supper was brought. - -“I shan’t eat all that,” expostulated Frank, when he saw the plateful -of meat and lumps of bread and butter. - -“Only one ‘commons,’ sir,” replied William. - -Frank said nothing, but saw distinctly that the standard called “one -commons,” for which his father would have to pay daily through his -three or four years, was based on the principle that “what is ordered -for one should be enough for two.” However, he enjoyed his supper; and -so did the scout, who carried home his share, with similar portions -from the other six rooms on the staircase to which it was his duty to -attend. - -The following morning, duly attired in cap and gown, with white -tie and black coat at William’s suggestion, Frank betook himself -to the Dean’s rooms. There he met the four other Freshmen who had -“passed” with him, was asked if he had his fee ready, and then -conducted in a sheepish, silent procession, headed by the Dean, to the -Vice-Chancellor. There were several groups of Freshmen standing with -their respective Deans, Vice-Principals, or other college officials. -Then they were all told to write their names in a book in Latin--a -novel though not difficult feat, which Frank, with the assistance of -his Dean, accomplished. - -“Ross, Franciscus, filius Armigeri, è collegio S. Pauli.” - -He then handed in his fee, 2_l._ 10_s._, and received in return a -little piece of blue paper, the certificate of matriculation, together -with a copy of the University statutes. The Vice-Chancellor addressed -them all in a short Latin formula; and when this was over, Frank had -time to read the document, which ran thus:-- - - “Term. Pasch. - “Oxoniæ, die Ap. 27mo, Anno Domini 187--. - - “Quo die comparuit coram me Franciscus Ross, è Coll. S. Pauli, - Arm. Fil. et admonitus est de observandis statutis hujus - Universitatis et in matriculam Universitatis relatus est. - - “----, Vice-Can.” - -He was now fully matriculated, and amenable to all the details of -University discipline. At six o’clock he dined in Hall--his first -dinner--not without the usual blunder of seating himself at a table -appropriated to undergraduates at least two years his seniors; and at -eight went to chapel--the hour being changed on first nights in term -from half-past five to eight, to enable men from distant homes to put -in an appearance. The chapel was very much crowded, Paul’s having -considerably outgrown its accommodation; but it was only on first -nights that the inconvenience was felt, for as it was not necessary to -attend service more than four times in the week, all the men were never -there together. - -Coming out, he met several old school-fellows, and the senior of them -carried them all off to his lodgings in Holywell Street, where over -wine and pipes they sat chatting till past ten o’clock; Frank, for the -most part, listening without saying much, for he was but a Freshman, -and this his first pipe. - -When he got back to Paul’s he found the gates locked; but as he had -read “Verdant Green” very carefully, he did not think it necessary to -apologize to George for giving him the trouble of opening. He knew that -“knocking in” before eleven o’clock only meant twopence in his weekly -“battels.”[5] - -That night, when he got into bed, though he did not feel quite a -“man,” he felt conscious of having undergone some considerable change -since he left home on Tuesday morning. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -AN OXFORD SUNDAY. - - -On Sunday morning he woke to the words that, without the slightest -variation in time or tone of delivery, called him daily for the three -years that he resided in college--“Half-past seven, sir! Do you -breakfast in?” - -This was the scout’s gentle hint that chapel service was within half -an hour, and his form of inquiry whether his young master intended -breakfasting in his own rooms or was going elsewhere for the meal. - -Frank, when he fully realized the meaning, answered “Yes,” and with a -freshman’s energy jumped out of bed, and was dressed before the chapel -bell began to ring. Hurrying down-stairs, in fear of being late, he was -stopped by William, with the suggestion that there was “no call to go -yet, till the bell began to swear!” - -This elegant expression, Frank learnt, is applied to the quickened and -louder ringing of the bell for the five minutes immediately preceding -service. He found, not many days after, that it was quite possible, by -the aid of an Ulster, and postponement of ablutions, to get to chapel -in time if he slept till the “swearing” began. - -There were not so many men present as on the previous evening. The -Master and Fellows wore surplices and hoods; the Scholars, being -undergraduates, surplices and no hoods; the commoners, black gowns. The -few--apparently senior men--who wore black gowns of longer and ampler -make than the commoners, were the Bachelors and Masters of Arts, still -“in residence,” but not on the foundation--_i.e._, neither Fellows nor -Scholars, and therefore not entitled to wear surplices. This was the -strict order for Sundays, and other high days; on other days every one -wore the black gown of his respective degree, with the single exception -of the Fellow who did chaplain’s duty for the week; for at Paul’s -there was no permanent chaplain. The first lesson was read by one of -the Scholars, the second by one of the Fellows, the prayers by the -chaplain, the Communion Service by the Master. There was no sermon; the -intention being that each undergraduate should attend “prayers” in his -own particular college-chapel, and afterwards hear a sermon preached in -the University-church to the members of the University in common. The -list of those who attend chapel is kept at Paul’s by the Bible-clerk, -at some colleges by the chapel-porter. The Bible-clerk’s further duties -are to find the lessons, to read them in the possible absence of the -proper person, and to say grace in Hall. - -A man may lose caste by becoming a Bible-clerk, but it is by no -means necessary that he should. A cad (and there are many at Oxford) -distinctly degrades the post, and makes it shunned. A man wavering -between good sets and bad sets may possibly lose what little footing he -has in the former. But a thorough gentleman (it seems hardly necessary -to say so, except to disabuse many of their prejudices) need not, -and does not in the slightest degree, lower himself by holding such -a position. The emoluments amount (in money and allowances) often -to 80_l._ per annum; at Paul’s, 75_l._; but what makes the post so -especially valuable, from a pecuniary point of view, is that it can be -held with a Scholarship and an Exhibition. The Bible-clerk at Paul’s -during Frank’s first two years was holding a Scholarship of the value -of 60_l._, an Exhibition from his school of the value of 50_l._; so -that, with his clerkship of 75_l._, his income amounted to 185_l._, for -the academical year of six months. And he was one of the most popular -men in the college. - -From him Frank learnt that he would have to read the first lesson -in chapel for six consecutive days in his turn; but that, being a -freshman, his turn would not come for some time yet. - -On returning to his rooms he found his breakfast laid, the kettle -simmering, and letters lying on the table; one from home; the rest, -the circulars that flatter the freshman’s dignity, and coax him into -becoming a customer. - -The foundation breakfast consists of bread, butter, and milk, and -in some colleges two eggs. These articles are brought by the scouts -from the buttery, and entered by the buttery-clerk to the respective -undergraduates. The bread, butter, and milk are distributed in -“commons,” the rate charged being above that of tradesmen outside -college, and the quantity being, in the case of most men, certainly too -much for one meal. The remains belong to the scout. - -Fish, poultry, meat (and for luncheon, pastry), are supplied from -the kitchen. For some items the charges are reasonable, for others -exorbitant. Naturally, therefore, it is in “kitchen-orders” that the -careful student can economize, if only he can stand against the Oxford -custom, fostered by the scouts, of ordering too much. For at least -three days in the week the two customary eggs, with bread and butter, -are surely enough for breakfast, a kitchen-order being thereby avoided. -The too common habit, however, is to discard the eggs (paid for, it -must be remembered, whether eaten or not), and eat meat. It is quite -conceivable that, after one breakfast on one staircase where eight men -live, the scout may put into his basket sixteen eggs. - -Tea, coffee, chocolate, cocoa, sugar, and so on, are in some colleges -procurable from the Common-room-stores, an establishment resembling an -Italian warehouse and wine-and-spirit-vault combined. Custom, if not -college regulations, will compel the undergraduate to deal with the -Common-room-man. - -At Paul’s there is no such establishment, but William very kindly -supplied the deficiency by ordering in, from one of the nearest--and -dearest--grocers, a good stock of tea (at 4_s._ 6_d._ per pound, -of course), coffee, candles, matches, scented soap, biscuits, jam, -marmalade, till Frank was quite bewildered at the thought of the room -necessary for storing these delicacies. However, they did not last long. - -One of the most iniquitous and yet plausible practices is that pursued -at some colleges--Paul’s among the number--of compelling undergraduates -to deal at certain shops. - -Anything in the way of paper, paint, or furniture, has to be procured -at one of the shops attached to the college. These are invariably the -dearest, charging for their goods 25 and 30 per cent. more than the -many other establishments which struggle against these monopolies. - -The reason given by the college authorities for this system is that -they are obliged to exercise some principle of selection of the workmen -allowed within the college walls, indiscriminate admission being open -to risk. The reason is plausible enough, but it is based entirely on -the supposition that the workmen employed by expensive firms alone are -honest. Further, what risk could there be in the conveyance of a piece -of furniture to the college gates, when its removal to the rooms of the -purchaser would be the work of the college servants? - -The only method of avoiding the tyranny of the system is to employ one -of the railway carriers. The college porter, on the presumption that -the article has come by rail from the undergraduate’s home, is obliged -to admit it. - -Anything like opposition to the regulation appears at present to -be useless. One daring undergraduate at Paul’s, who ventured to -remonstrate with his college dean (the authority in such matters), -was met with this characteristic answer:--“It is our system. If you -don’t like it, the college gates are open. You can remove your name -from the college books. We won’t detain you.”--an answer perfectly -admissible from the proprietor of any establishment, but insolent and -unwarrantable from one who, after all, is but an administrator in a -corporate institution. - -And so it would be possible to go on and enumerate many instances in -which not only custom among his companions, but college regulations -compel the undergraduate to be extravagant and wasteful. Homes are -crippled, younger brothers and sisters deprived of the education which -is their due, and the much-vaunted University extension limited by -the very administration of the bodies that ought, and do profess, to -foster it. Questions of domestic economy are ignored by the various -commissions, though they lie at the very root of University extension. -Let additional Scholarships be founded to enable more students to -come to the University; let additional teaching power be endowed with -professorships, lectureships, and readerships, by all means; but let -perquisites be pruned down; let the enormous profits of catering cooks -and butlers be decreased; let room-rent be lowered; let “servants’ -dues” pay the servants, and not need to be supplemented by charges -which never appear in the college accounts; let trade be free in the -town; let every man buy where he pleases; that is the way to extend -the benefits of University education--that is the way to enable those -to profit by it who are at present debarred--that is the way to enable -families, which now struggle to send one son to the University, to send -two for an equivalent outlay. There can be no doubt of the unnecessary -waste and extravagance in the domestic economy of the colleges when -it is remembered that though collegiate life, based as it is on -communistic principles, ought to be cheaper than any other form of -student life, as a matter of fact it is considerably more expensive. - -To return to Frank’s breakfast. He found some difficulty in boiling his -eggs and making his tea. But he concealed his ignorance and ate the -eggs, and drank his tea like dish-water. - -About a quarter to ten some one banged at his door, and entered with -the bang. The visitor was Crawford, of Brasenose, an old school-fellow -of Frank’s, who had gone up about three years previously. - -“Hullo, young man! not finished breakfast yet!” - -His cheery greeting was delightful to Frank, who felt he had in him a -true friend. - -A man about three years senior to a freshman--what a power, for good or -evil, he has! His seniority inspires reverence and commands imitation. -Luckily, Crawford was a thoroughly sterling fellow. He had come to -Oxford in earnest. When he worked he worked; when he played he played. -There was the same vigour in his work as in his “stroke” on the river -or “rush” at football. He kept chapels regularly; he said, because -morning-chapel gave him a long day. There was a more earnest reason -concealed behind this; but he had a horror of the dangers of cant. -He knew what lectures were worth attending, and attended them. He -ridiculed and cut the worthless. He knew who were the best “coaches,” -and said so. He abused the charlatans. In all matters of social -etiquette he was an old-fashioned Conservative; for example, he always -wore a black coat and tall hat on Sundays, and roundly abused those who -loafed in light suits; and he never carried an umbrella or wore gloves -when attired in cap and gown--a rather silly custom, perhaps; but its -observance in the face of innovations marks the man. - -After a little chat on school matters, Crawford told Frank he was -going to the University sermon; and without any compunction told -him--not asked him--to accompany him. - -Frank, nothing loth, took his cap and gown, and they went together. - -St. Mary’s does double duty: as a parish church and as the University -church; and here the University sermons are preached at 10.30 a.m. -and 2 p.m. on each Sunday in full term, except those of the Dean of -Christ-Church, or the Fellows of New College, Magdalen, and Merton, -which are or may be preached in the cathedral and in the chapels of -those colleges respectively. - -The nave--the part appropriated to the University--was crowded when -Frank and his companion entered, for the preacher was a popular one. In -the gallery, facing that by the west window assigned to undergraduates, -the University organist, Mr. Taylor, was already seated at the organ, -with six or eight chorister boys round him. One of these hung a board, -with the number of the selected hymn, over the gallery, and then the -voluntary commenced. - -At 10.30 precisely the procession entered at the north door: the -vice-chancellor, preceded by his mace-bearers, the esquire bedels and -marshals, and followed by the heads of houses, the preacher, and the -proctors. Then the whole congregation rose and, led by the choristers, -sang the hymn appointed. Afterwards came the quaint “bidding prayer,” -still used in most cathedrals, but made especially quaint in a -University city by the long lists of founders and benefactors; and then -the sermon. At a quarter to twelve all was over, and Frank was sitting -in the window of Crawford’s rooms in Brasenose; and as he looked out -on the sunny Radcliffe Square, with St. Mary’s graceful spire, the -black frowning “schools,” and the pepper-box towers of All Souls, he -heard with reverent admiration (for he was, in his way, somewhat of -a poet) that these were Bishop Heber’s rooms, that here he must have -sat, and here he must have written that famous Newdigate prize-poem, -“Palestine,” by which he will always be remembered. - -Over the chimney looking-glass hung a gilded face, with an enormous -nose, the emblem of the college. The pictures on the panelled walls -Frank soon became more intimately acquainted with, for he found copies -in most of his friends’ rooms. There were “The Huguenots,” “The Black -Brunswicker,” Landseer’s “Challenge,” “Retreat,” and “Monarch of the -Glen,” of course, and many others of a more recent date. Three or -four pairs of boxing-gloves lay in one corner, dumb-bells in another. -Against the wall, in racks, pipes of various descriptions, from the -short briar-root to the china bowl of the German student (for Crawford -had spent six months once upon a time in Heidelberg), racket-bats, -and an oar, fondly cherished, that had helped to bring victory to the -Brasenose “four” a few years back at Henley. - -At one o’clock Crawford’s scout appeared, and almost at the same moment -three invited friends, strangers to Frank. At Oxford luncheon or -breakfast parties, etiquette does not require that the guests should -arrive late. The lunch was as follows:-- - - Leg of lamb. - Couple of chicken. - Ham cut in huge slices. - Salad. - Lumps of bread. - Lumps of butter. - Lumps of cheese. - Celery. - Three pots of jam. - “French pastry” (in reality, English tarts). - Cyder cup. - Sherry and claret. - -Fish, meat, and marmalade at nine that morning, and a prospective -dinner in Hall at six that evening, did not prevent Frank’s four -companions from doing ample justice to the fare. He himself was as yet -unused to these meals, by which circumstance Crawford’s scout profited. - -After lunch, pipes. At three the guests dropped off; and the two -school-fellows walked to Cumnor--as a result of which Frank wasted -three hours on Monday evening, writing a poem about Amy Robsart’s tomb. - -At five they got back to Oxford, and the freshman was introduced to -the reading and writing rooms of the Union Society, Crawford entering -his name as a probationary member, and telling him to call on Monday -to pay the fee--25_s._ There was hardly time to do more than glance at -the telegrams in the hall, and just look in at the numerous readers -and writers in the different rooms; but the view was quite enough to -enchant Frank. And then the friends parted for their respective chapels. - -At dinner that evening he made friends with some freshmen, with one -of whom he proposed to go to St. Philip’s and St. James’ Church, for -evening service. Dinner being prolonged rather beyond the usual time, -they had to run pretty sharp, and even then were too late to get a -seat. They accordingly began to retrace their steps, determining -on future occasions, when they meant to go to either of the parish -churches, to make their dinner at lunch-time, and “take their names off -Hall”--_i.e._ remove their names from the list of those for whom dinner -in Hall was provided--and have supper in their rooms on their return -from service. - -As they were walking on, they were suddenly stopped by a man having the -appearance of a policeman in plain clothes, who said,-- - -“The Proctor wants to speak to you, gentlemen.” - -The next moment they saw a gentleman in black gown and large velvet -sleeves, who with formal politeness raised his cap and said,-- - -“Are you members of this University?” - -Frank and his friend murmured that they were. - -“Your names and colleges, if you please.” - -“Ross, of Paul’s.” - -“Mordaunt, of Paul’s.” - -“Call on me to-morrow morning at nine, if you please.” - -And the Proctor walked on, leaving Frank and Mordaunt rather -bewildered, and totally ignorant where they were to call in the -morning--for though they knew they had been “proctorized,” they did not -know either the Proctor’s name or his college. - -The marshal (the Proctor’s head attendant; the rest being called -“bull-dogs”), seeing them standing in the road in evident uncertainty, -said to them,-- - -“You’d best go back to college, gentlemen;” and then, instinctively -gathering that they were freshmen, added,-- - -“Where’s your caps and gowns? You’ll find the Proctor at Christ-Church, -gentlemen,” and vanished with his bull-dogs after other unwary -undergraduates. - -The interview somewhat damped their spirits: not that any fearful -punishment was hanging over their heads. Even the statutable fine of -five shillings for being without cap and gown would, they believed, be -remitted in consideration of their being freshmen. But Frank had hoped -to keep out of the way of the Proctors; and this was indeed an early -beginning. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE FRESHMAN’S TERM. - - -Strolling towards the Lodge on Monday morning--because everybody seemed -to be strolling in that direction--Frank had his attention called to -various notices posted in the gates. One was to the effect that “the -Master would see the gentlemen that morning between 10 a.m. and noon, -the freshmen on Tuesday, between the same hours.” Another that “the -Dean would be glad to see the freshmen at ten, the other gentlemen -after.” There was also a list of places in Hall; announcements of the -meetings of the College Debating Society, Boat Club, Cricket Club; -Greek Testament Lecture, _sine ulla solemnitate_ (_i.e._ without cap -and gown), at Mr. Wood’s house every Sunday evening at nine. He was one -of the married Fellows--a hard-working, energetic man. - -Without quite knowing what “seeing the freshmen” meant, Frank got -his gown, and as it was five minutes to ten, made his way to the Dean’s -rooms. In the passage outside he found about twenty freshmen cooling -their heels, and engaged, some more and some less, in questions or -chaff with George, the Dean’s scout. George usually had the best of -it. In fact, the freshman who dared to argue with him on matters of -custom or local politics, and especially local politics, found himself -considerably “shut up.” - -A door opened, and a sort of snort from within indicated to George -that the Dean was ready to see the freshmen. One by one they filed in, -and were greeted by the Dean with a smile that was naturally faint -but tried to be sweet, and a grasp of the hand that was meant to be -cordial but was unmistakably flabby. There were seats for all, but it -took some minutes to get into them. The interview did not last long: -just long enough, in fact, to enable the Dean to make one remark to -each of the freshmen. To one, without waiting for an answer, “How is -your father?” To another, “Does Mr. St. Leger intend coming forward for -Slowcombe?” To another, “Have you been in Devonshire this vacation, -Mr. Jones?”--Jones being, of course, a Yorkshireman who has never -travelled further south than Oxford, when he matriculated in February -last. To one or two a faint question as to their intentions. “Were they -going to read for Honours, or for a Pass?” On the whole, Frank left -the room depressed and disheartened as to his work. He had expected -to be questioned as to what he had done at school: what form he was -in: what books he had read; to be advised as to the turn his reading -should now take; whether he should read for Honours in one examination -or in more than one; or whether, in short, reading for Honours would be -beyond him, and therefore waste of time. The only piece of practical -information he gained was that Mr. Wood was his tutor, and to him he -must apply for all particulars as to Lectures and Examinations. - -The plan at Paul’s is similar to that at most colleges. The -undergraduates are distributed among the tutors, a certain number -being apportioned to each. They are not necessarily to attend their -lectures, but they are to go to them for advice and private assistance -in their work. In many colleges, battels are paid by the undergraduate -to his own tutor. The tutors together draw up a scheme of lectures, -which the undergraduates attend simply according to the necessities of -the examination for which they are reading, and not according to the -particular tutor to whom they are assigned. Frank was assigned to Mr. -Wood, but did not attend his Lectures in his first term, as they were -for more advanced men. He learnt all this when he went to him at the -Dean’s direction. What he failed to find in the Dean he found in Mr. -Wood, who met him cordially, took him into his inner room, made him -sit comfortably on a sofa in the large bay window, and then chatted -with him for half an hour. The result of the conversation was that -Frank was to work for Responsions,[6] which would come on at the end -of the current term; not to think about Moderations[7] till he was -safe through this first ordeal; and to come on Sunday evenings to Mr. -Wood’s Greek Testament Lectures. The hours and subjects of the other -lectures, he told Frank, he would find posted on the Lodge-gate on -the following day. He asked him a few questions about his father and -the Vicar of Porchester, who was an old friend; about his school and -college friends; asked him whether he boated or played cricket; whether -he meant to join the Union; told him if he wanted any books out of -the college library to come to him; concluding hurriedly, as another -freshman, seeking advice, knocked timorously and entered. - -The visit next morning to the Master was not unlike that to the -Dean--a purely formal one. The Master’s questions chiefly related to -cricket and boating, indicating an anxiety to discover the promising -men for the Eleven or the Boats. Frank, as he sat in the Master’s -arm-chair, while the old gentleman warmed his coat-tails by an -imaginary fire, could not help falling to making doggerel-- - - “‘D’ stands for Discipline, Duty, and Dean; - ‘M’ must the Master and Merriment mean.” - -But there he stopped by lack of rhymes and a general stampede of the -Freshmen, to the great relief of the much-enduring Master. - -Frank selected for Responsions the books he had offered for -Matriculation, the usual and natural course; and with the assistance of -Crawford to interpret the Lecture-List on the college gates, he made -out his own lecture-card as follows:-- - - ----------+----------+-----------+-----------+------------ - | 9. | 10. | 11. | 12. - +----------+-----------+-----------+------------ - | | | | - Monday | | |Greek Plays| Latin Prose - | | | --Mr. Lang| in Hall. - Tuesday | |Cicero--Mr.| | Grammar - | | Henderson| | Paper. - Wednesday | | |Greek Plays| Latin Prose - | | | --Mr. Lang| in Hall. - Thursday | Prose to |Cicero--Mr.| | Grammar - | Mr. Wood | Henderson| | Paper. - Friday | | |Greek Plays| Latin Prose - | | | --Mr. Lang| in Hall. - Saturday | |Cicero--Mr.| | Grammar - | | Henderson| | Paper. - ----------+----------+-----------+-----------+------------ - -The lectures in his books were much the same as at school, except that -the undergraduates were treated with more respect than school-boys. A -certain quantity was set: the men were put on in turn to translate; and -general questions asked. Sometimes, if time permitted, the lecturer -would translate the lesson himself when the men had finished. - -The grammar and prose in Hall were in the form of examination. The -men were called up one by one to be shown the mistakes in the papers -done on previous days, so that, with this interruption, not much more -than forty minutes were left for actual writing. The prose on Thursday -morning was the only tutorial link that bound Mr. Wood to his pupil, -and that was, as often as not, severed by a note to the effect that Mr. -Wood would be “unable to see Mr. Ross on Thursday morning.” - -To Frank the work seemed as nothing after the long hours of school. It -never occurred to him to look ahead, and to think of Moderations; in -fact, he had been told not to do so. And so he commenced, energetically -it is true, going over work he already knew well enough to satisfy the -examiners, listening to the marvellous mistakes of his fellow-freshmen -and of those senior men who had been degraded because of failure in -previous terms. He soon learnt to think nothing of hearing mistakes -that would disgrace school-boys of fifteen; and to fancy that, because -he regularly prepared his work and attended his lectures, he was -working to the utmost extent that he could, or that was required of -him. And that is how so many first terms are wasted, and boys with -energy enough for eight or ten hours’ daily study drift into two or -three, and often into none at all. Failure sometimes rouses them; but -it is a questionable remedy, and more often demoralizes than benefits. - -There is not much work done in the summer term; an outsider might say, -none at all. But then he would be judging from the external appearance -of the place: the quads crowded with lounging men, waiting for drags -to go to the cricket-ground; the wide-open windows with their gay -flowers, whence issue sounds and scents of the heavy luncheons of the -more languidly inclined; the river swarming with boats of all sorts and -sizes; the Union rooms full of readers leisurely scanning the papers or -dipping into the magazines, with ices or cigars to soothe or sweeten -the summer afternoons; the roads busy with rattling pony-carriages -bound for Woodstock or Abingdon, Witney or Thame; even the shops -themselves are full, whose windows from without and wares within tempt -the passing “loafer.” “Where are the reading men?” the stranger may -well ask. - -There are plenty of them if you know where to find them. But it is just -because the stranger is a stranger that he won’t find them. What can -he know of the hours of heavy work got through in the quiet of those -bright summer afternoons; of the one close-shut room on this deserted -staircase of open, idle doors; of that back-quad attic, with its -sported oak; of the “coach’s” crowded chambers, where, unheeding the -charms of river or cricket-field, of Union-garden or leafy roads, he -and his hourly pupils sit, “grinding for the schools”? - -Besides, the surprised and maybe shocked stranger must remember that -a large number of men who come to Oxford do not come there merely for -the sake of the degree. They take one if they can; the sooner they -can, so much the better are they pleased. They come to be made men -and gentlemen. A degree is only one of the many means to that end. -It is only because some make it their all-absorbing motive that the -University sends forth into the world so many prigs. - -Within the first week Frank had made many friends, most of them friends -of Crawford’s, who had called at his suggestion. The secretaries of -the Boat and Cricket Clubs had looked him up, to whom Frank, with much -pleasure, had paid his entrance fee and annual subscriptions. - -The captain of the Paul’s company in the Rifle Corps had come to -work upon his military ardour; the president of the College Debating -Society, to arouse his ambition for oratory; the collector for the -various Church Societies, to test his impartiality and charity. Frank -was enabled, by his father’s wish and the means he had placed at his -disposal, to join the various societies, and pay the subscriptions. -But it was not this pecuniary willingness alone that gained for our -freshman so much popularity. The pecuniary outlay was as follows:-- - - £ _s._ _d._ - Boat Club 3 10 0 - Cricket Club 2 10 0 - Paul’s Debating Society 0 2 6 - Union Society 1 5 0 - Rifle Corps, including Band-Subscriptions and Uniform 5 0 0 - -There is no need to enter into Frank’s charitable subscriptions. They -were neither large nor small, but what they were, were given with -pleasure. About this time also came in the valuation of his rooms, -amounting to 30_l._ Our freshman is now, therefore, fairly started on -his career. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE EIGHTS. - - -April slipped away, and it was the evening of the 30th. Frank had dined -in Hall; he had been to all his lectures that morning. He knew the -work for the next day. There was no need, therefore, he thought, for -further work. Turning out of the Lodge-gates, hardly knowing where he -was going, he strolled into the High; and just by Spiers’ he met a new -acquaintance--Morton, of Magdalen. - -“Where are you off, Ross?” he asked. - -“Don’t know,” answered Frank; “nowhere particular.” - -The fact is, Frank had been drifting of late into these evening -rambles to “nowhere particular.” And a good deal of time they occupied -too. - -“You’d better come down to my rooms. I’ve got one or two fellows coming -in for a hand at whist.” - -Frank, not being the impossible model young man of the story-books, did -not resist the invitation, but, linking his arm into Morton’s, went -off to Magdalen. The April night was not so warm that a fire was not -pleasant. Morton’s rooms were in the old quad, looking out towards the -new buildings and the deer-park. The curtains were drawn and the lights -burning. Several little tables were laid with dessert, and one cleared -in the centre of the room, with packs of cards upon it. There were -about a dozen men present. - -Dessert over, cards began; but it was not whist. Everybody voted that -slow. Frank himself thought that he never had played so enticing a game -as loo. When he knocked in that night at five minutes to twelve, he -fancied the porter eyed him suspiciously and knew that he had returned -_minus_ a few pounds and _plus_ a racking headache. His suspicions were -right. Few read more rightly or more quickly the character and career -of the undergraduates than the porters who open to them nightly. - -But, in spite of his headache, Frank managed to be up at four o’clock -next morning. He had accepted Morton’s invitation to breakfast at six, -after hearing the choir sing the May-Morning Hymn on the college tower. -George, the porter, as he opened the Lodge-gates to Frank and others, -thought, in spite of his pale face, that he at least could not have -been up to much mischief last night, or he would not have been up so -early after it. And George, usually infallible, began to retract his -last night’s opinion. - -As he stood on the leads and looked down through the grey battlements -on the faint fresh green that was brightening the trees in the -Botanical Gardens; on the distant spires and towers; and on the less -fortunate crowds in the street below; and as the sweet voices of the -choir rose and blended through the soft morning air, a feeling, whether -it was regret or remorse he hardly knew, came over him. Anyhow he felt -that this was a sweeter, purer pleasure than the gambling of last -night, and confessed to himself that he had been “an utter fool for his -pains.” - -It was a blazing afternoon about the end of May. The river--meaning -thereby the Isis, the main river, to distinguish it from its tributary -the Cherwell--was deserted save for a few energetic men in outrigged -skiffs practising for sculling races, and the boatmen, in charge of the -various college barges, sweltering in the sun, and, as fast as the heat -would allow them, making preparations for the work of the evening. The -Cherwell, with its slow, shady stream, its winding banks and drooping -trees, was the favourite resort, but even here all was quiet. Every -now and then a canoe flashed by lazily, or a punt plunged up in search -of some cool nook. There was a momentary disturbance, perhaps, as it -bumped against one already moored; and pairs of sleepy eyes would look -up to scowl at the new-comer, if a stranger; or greet him lazily if a -friend. - -Just in one of the pleasantest corners, Frank and Monkton had fixed -their craft, and were lying face upwards on a couple of enormous -cushions--Monkton smoking or pretending to smoke; Frank reading or -pretending to read. - -“Are you going to stay for the Eights?” asked Monkton. - -“Rather,” answered Frank. “Why? aren’t you?” - -“No, not I! In the first place, I don’t care about them; and in the -second place, I’ve promised Morton to drive to Abingdon at seven. It’ll -be getting cool then.” - -“It seems to me you’re rather fond of going to Abingdon,” answered -Frank. “What’s the attraction?” - -“My dear boy, ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies”--and at that -moment a punt ran right into them. - -“Now then, sir, look ahead!” spluttered Monkton as their punt was -nearly upset, and his cigar falling from his mouth burnt a small hole -in his flannel trousers. The intruder apologized and plunged on again -to disturb the rest of other unlucky beings. - -“Well,” went on Frank, “I’m glad I’ve not to pay your bill for -pony-traps, that’s all.” - -“Oh, well, as far as that goes,” retorted Monkton, waking up a little, -“that don’t trouble me. I patronize the trustful Traces, and I’m sure -the trustful one would be quite embarrassed if I offered to pay him; so -I don’t. That’s all.” - -“Does your governor give you an allowance?” asked Frank. - -“Not he. He told me not to get into debt, and to send in the bills. And -a fellow can’t live like a hermit. I’ve always had a horse at home, so -I don’t see why I shouldn’t have one here. But I’m not proud, and so I -hire a pony instead, and I’m sure the old man ought not to mind.” - -“Come out of that, you lazy young beggar!” called a voice in -Frank’s ears, and looking up he saw Crawford in one of those little -cockle-shells in which Mr. Verdant Green so highly distinguished -himself--“Aren’t you coming down to see the Eights?” - -Monkton looked at Crawford with that expression of half insolence, half -fear, which characterizes so many freshmen, and drawled out,-- - -“Yes; Ross is going. He’s so energetic, you know.” - -“That’s a blessing, at all events,” answered Crawford, “as long as -there are fellows like you, about.” - -“By Jove!” said Frank, pulling out his watch, “it’s getting late. If -you’re going to Abingdon at seven, Monkton, you’ll have to look sharp.” - -“Going to Abingdon?” asked Crawford, half to himself, and getting no -answer from Monkton. - -“Look here! I say, you fellows! can’t you manage to get this punt back -to the barges, and let me cut up through the meadows?” said Monkton. “I -promised to be in Morton’s rooms at half-past six, and it’s just on six -now.” - -“All right,” said Frank, “Crawford will help me back with the -punt”--really glad to get rid of him, for his younger and his older -friend did not hit it off exactly. - -“It strikes me that young man is beginning rather early,” said Crawford -paternally, as he lashed his boat to the punt and got in, much to -Frank’s relief, for it was his first day in a punt. - -The latter did not say much, for he had himself commenced various -extensive dealings with the trustful tradesmen--trustful, that is, for -two years, but most distrustful afterwards--and he feared questioning -and an inevitable lecture from Crawford. - -By the time they reached the barges, the river and banks were getting -crowded. The band was assembling on the ’Varsity barge (that belonging -to the University Boat Club); and all the other college barges were -in a bustle of excitement. It was “the first night of the Eights,” -and many were the attempts to explain that somewhat elliptical phrase -to the uninitiated matrons and maidens who were flocking from every -quarter of the town. - -Just at the mouth of the Cherwell, Crawford and Frank met a party of -ladies and escorted them to the Paul’s barge; and the latter, though he -fancied he was clear as to the meaning of “Eights” and “Torpids,” was -really not sorry to overhear his friend’s explanation. - -“You see,” Crawford was saying to a pretty girl with bright blue eyes, -that certainly did not seem to be reminded that they could see--“You -see, every college, that is athletic enough, has a Boat Club; the best -eight oars, rowers I mean, constitute ‘_the_ Eight;’ the second best -eight are ‘the Torpid.’ The Torpid-races, or as we call them, ‘the -Torpids,’ take place in the Lent term; every college that has an Eight -and a Torpid enters the latter for the Torpid-races; and then they all -row to see which is best. Then in the Summer term ‘the Eights’ are on; -that is the races of the college Eight-oars; to-night is the first -night, you know. All the Eights are going to row to see which is best.” - -“Yes; but,” said Blue-eyes, “why do they have more than one race?” - -“Well, you see”--Crawford could not help the phrase--“that is--er--it’s -rather difficult to explain.” - -But after a moment he took courage, and plunged into his explanation, -which was to this effect, and which may assist the uninitiated reader. - -The river is too narrow to admit of boats racing abreast. They are -therefore arranged one behind the other, there being 120 feet from -the nose of one to the stern of the other. All start simultaneously, -the object of each being to “bump”--_i.e._ run into and touch the one -in front of it. When a “bump” has taken place, both the “bumper” and -the “bumped” row to the bank to let the others pass. There is a post -opposite the barges, where most of the spectators sit, and when once a -boat has passed this it cannot be bumped. The following night--called -“night,” but really meaning seven o’clock--the boats all start, with -this exception, that if, for example, on Monday Balliol has bumped -Christ-Church, on Tuesday Balliol will start ahead of Christ-Church. -The latter then has the chance of regaining its position by bumping -Balliol, but it is also exposed to the danger of being bumped by the -next boat. This goes on, in the case of the “Torpid,” for six days; of -the “Eights,” for eight “nights.” At the end, the boat that finishes -with all the others behind it, holds the proud position of “Head of -the River” for the year. It may have gained this by making “bumps,” or -by avoiding being “bumped.” How the order was, in the origin of the -races, settled, it is impossible to say; but it is the rule that any -college club which “puts on”--_i.e._ enters a boat for the races--for -the first time shall start at the bottom. Perhaps, after this -explanation, any remaining difficulty will be cleared up by suggesting, -as an illustration, a school-class, in which a place is gained for -a successful answer. The boats, by “bumping” and being “bumped,” -respectively gain and lose places. - -Crawford was rowing in the Brasenose Eight. So, after seeing his lady -friends to seats on the top of the college barge, he ran down-stairs -to dress for the race. The men who rowed in the Brasenose Eight and -Torpid were unlike the majority of men of other colleges, in that they -walked to the river in _mufti_, and put on their boating-clothes in -their barge. Frank, pleading an excuse that he wanted to go down the -Berkshire bank to see the start, but chiefly because he was rather shy, -left Crawford’s party to the attention of some other men, and, crossing -in old George West’s punt, was soon lost in the crowd. - -One by one the boats paddled down to the start, cheered by their own -men as they passed. The crowd thickened. A great surging mass pressed -up against the rails that enclosed the barges, and gazed enviously at -the lucky ones within the enclosure. A black line went coiling down the -pathway towards Iffley. Those were the men who would see the start, and -run back with the boats to cheer them on. Presently there was a great -silence. Everybody was looking right away to the Iffley Willows, or at -watches. Then the first gun went. Conversation flowed again for four -minutes. Then the one-minute gun--and then utter silence, till with the -third boom a roar of voices began, that came nearer and louder as the -great black line began coiling home again, as fast as it could. - -Brasenose was Head of the River; and Blue-eyes was wearing the -Brasenose colours; and Blue-eyes’ heart, though she would not have -confessed it, was in a flutter of excitement. On came the boats. -Balliol was close behind Brasenose. The Brasenose men on bank and -barge shouted. The Balliol men shouted more loudly. They must catch -them. Blue-eyes hated the Balliol men; but, for all that, the nose of -the Balliol boat was within a foot of the Brasenose rudder. Now it -overlapped it, but failed to touch it, for the Brasenose coxswain, by a -sharp pull of the rudder-string, turned a rush of water against their -nose and washed them off. - -The Brasenose men yelled till Blue-eyes felt the drums of her little -ears were nigh to cracking. And then Crawford, who was rowing stroke, -seemed to pull himself together for a final effort, and laying himself -well out, gave his men a longer stroke. Now they were clear--now there -was a foot between them--now two--now three. Then he quickened: his men -answered bravely. Foot by foot they drew ahead, and when they were on -the post, Balliol was a good length behind. Blue-eyes had often heard, -“See, the Conquering Hero comes,” but she could not make out why the -sound of it now gave her a choking feeling in the throat. Certainly she -saw no more of the races, though boat by boat came by, each in as keen -pursuit of the one just in advance of it as Balliol had been to catch -Brasenose. - -There was a merry party that night in Crawford’s rooms, and Blue-eyes -sat by the host, and was highly amused at the plain fare he was obliged -to eat in the midst of the dainties of the supper-table; and she was -half inclined to be cross when at a quarter to ten the captain of the -Boat Club, who was present, firmly but politely suggested the breaking -up of the party--“unless,” he explained, “you want to see Brasenose go -down to-morrow night.” - -But men must work, or at any rate go in for examinations, whatever -the women may do. So the “Eights” passed away, and Blue-eyes returned -to her home, taking with her, from many, the sunshine she had brought. -The Proctor’s notices recalled Frank and several hundred other -unfortunates to the stern realities of University life. Parted for a -while in the all-too-brief days of Blue-eyes’ supremacy, Monkton and -Frank drifted together again by the force of kindred obligations. -Together they went to the Junior Proctor, and entered their names for -Responsions (commonly called “Smalls,” “because such a werry small -number on ’em gets through,” as the guides will tell you); together -they parted with the statutable guinea, fondly hoping that in due time -they would get a tangible result in the shape of a testamur. Together -they gazed admiringly, nor yet without awe, at their names when they -appeared in the Gazette; and together, in white ties and “garments -of a subfusc hue,” as prescribed by the statutes, they proceeded one -bright morning in June to the Schools. There for two days, from nine to -twelve, and from half-past one to half-past three, they were examined -by papers. Then, after waiting a few days, Monkton’s _vivâ voce_ came -on, the order of this being alphabetical. But when at two o’clock the -same day the Clerk of the Schools read out a list of those who had -passed, and for the gladly-paid shilling handed over a small piece of -blue paper, testifying the fact in the handwriting of the much-enduring -Examiners, Monkton’s testamur was, alas! not forthcoming. Frank did not -pass as easily as he might have passed. The last few weeks had taken -the polish off his work. He got his testamur, it is true, but he was -rather ashamed of feeling relieved, for he knew that he ought never to -have had any fears of failing in such a school-boy examination. - -He called on his tutor to consult him as to his future work. The First -Public Examination (commonly called Moderations) is, like Responsions, -obligatory on all; but here the student may offer either the minimum -amount of work, called “a Pass,” or go in for Honours either in -Classics or Mathematics. The Honours Examination is to chiefly test -style of translation from Latin and Greek authors into English, and -_vice versâ_, together with grammatical and critical questions bearing -on the contents, style, and literary history of the books offered. -Papers are also set in the Elements of Comparative Philology; the -History of the Greek Drama, with Aristotle’s Poetics; and the Elements -of Deductive Logic, with either selections from the Organon, or from -Mill’s “Inductive Logic.” The four Gospels in Greek, together with -questions on the subject-matter, are compulsory on all,--Passmen and -Classmen alike. After the examination is over, the examiners (in this -instance called Moderators) distribute the names of those whom they -judge to have shown sufficient merit into three classes, the names in -each class being arranged alphabetically. If a candidate is not good -enough to be placed in a class, but has yet shown as much knowledge as -is required of the ordinary Passmen, he receives a testamur to that -effect. This is called a “gulf.” The subjects for Pass Moderations are -Latin Prose (rather more difficult than for Responsions); the elements -of Logic, or Arithmetic and Algebra to Quadratic Equations; unseen -passages of Greek and Latin; and three authors, of whom one must be -Greek, and one must be either an Orator, Philosopher, or Historian. - -After a little questioning, Mr. Wood’s advice to Frank was to go in -for a Pass, and, that over, to read for Honours in one of the Final -Schools, such as Modern History or Law. The advice was wise, for his -classical reading was not very much advanced; and even if he could have -got through the bare reading of the necessary text-books, he would not -have acquired the style of translation and elegance in composition -needed for the highest honours. - -He chose Logic in preference to Mathematics, by Mr. Wood’s advice; and -for his authors, Herodotus (Books V. and VI.); Livy (Books V., VI., and -VII.), and Juvenal, certain Satires being omitted. Having purchased -these books, and laid in a good store of industrious intentions, he -left Oxford and his freshman’s term behind him, not at all sorry to be -going home. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -THE LONG VACATION. - - -There was a good deal of the school-boy’s pleasure in the commencement -of the holidays, mixed with the pride that he felt in his new -condition. There were only a few passengers for Porchester, and only -a few people on the platform when he alighted; but the few there were -knew him, and Oxford made the chief matter of their inquiries, and a -pleasant topic for him to dilate upon. But he was soon hurried off by -two of his admiring younger brothers, and seated at the side of old -John, the factotum, in the pony-carriage, talking hard, now to him, -now to his brothers, who sat behind. How familiar the road was! Did -green hedges ever look so green as those? or was summer twilight ever -so sweet as this that lay so peacefully about little Porchester? The -old church-tower rose like a soft shadow from the close trees. There, -beside it, peeped the vicarage gables and chimneys. There was old -Sally, the laundress, resting at her gateway, rubbing her wrinkled -fingers as though she would smooth away the signs of so much soap and -water. There was the postmaster putting up the shutters of his little -grocery-shop; the tailor in his garden, tending his standard roses; the -blacksmith at his silent smithy; there were the carrier’s horses just -being unharnessed from the van that in these primitive parts was no -mean rival of the railway. A few children here; a knot of women there, -chattering, scolding, laughing, staring, questioning; there a group of -men outside the “Anchor;” here some boys playing marbles. - -How unchanged it all was! The term at Oxford seemed like a dream. Frank -could scarcely believe he had been away more than two months. - -Now they are passing the vicarage garden. The gate is open, and -Frank, much to the amusement of Tom and Will in the hind-seat of -the pony-carriage, stares hard through the white posts and up the -lawn. Whatever his thoughts or hopes may have been, they are rudely -interrupted (and most probably shattered) by a couple of voices from -behind, which seem to be bubbling over with amusement, and to be -jostling each other for the first and loudest place. - -“She’s away!” - -“Who’s away?” asked Frank quietly, with assumed indifference. - -“Who’s away?” repeat the two behind. “Why, who’re you looking for, eh?” - -“_Are_ the vicarage people away, then?” said Frank. - -“Rose is,” again comes from the bubbling voices. - -But before the subject can be pursued further, old John, pointing with -his whip, says,-- - -“There’s the master, sir.” - -And Frank, looking straight away up the road, discerns his father -coming towards them, and jumps out of the carriage. - -“Why, Frank, my boy, I declare you’ve grown!” - -Nor did his dignity decline the honour. He took his father’s arm, and, -letting the younger ones drive home with John and the luggage, walked -and talked with his father till they reached the house. His mother and -sisters were at the door to welcome him. Never had there been such a -pleasant, proud home-coming yet. The servants peeped from the upper -windows to see “Master Frank,” whom they doubtless expected to find -completely transformed, and John, taking the luggage from the carriage, -again took stock of him, and told the servants with an air that, as -always, carried weight,-- - -“Arter all, there’s no place like college to make a man of a young -gentleman.” - -One scene more to complete the first act of our freshman’s life. - -Mr. Ross was, as became a lawyer, a man of sound business-like habits. -Directly after breakfast on the following morning he called Frank into -his study, and they went together through all the bills. - -The result of their investigation was as follows:-- - - £ _s._ _d._ - Travelling and Hotel Expenses at Matriculation 5 10 0 - Caution Money (to Paul’s) 30 0 0 - Matriculation Fee (to the University) 2 10 0 - Glass and China (to the scout) 9 19 6 - Cap and Gown 1 2 6 - Entrance Fee (Union Society) 1 5 0 - Boat Club Subscription 3 10 0 - Cricket Club 2 10 0 - Paul’s Debating Society 0 2 6 - Rifle Corps 5 0 0 - Valuation of Furniture 30 0 0 - Battels for Summer Term 35 0 0 - Fee for Responsions 1 0 0 - Books, Sundries, and Travelling Expenses 10 0 0 - -The summer passed. Frank had been to the Henley Regatta at Crawford’s -invitation, and had stayed with him at the old “Red Lion” with various -crews; had run down the bank at his side when he was practising for the -Diamond Sculls in the sweet June mornings, and had shouted with the -shouting crowd when he won the race, beating the London man and the -Cantab who had been training “dark.” Then he had gone to Crawford’s -home for a pleasant week; then back to little Porchester, where, with -garden-parties and cricket, with boating on the river that seemed so -deserted after the crowded Isis, and lawn-tennis, the time had passed -away happily enough. Of work for the “Schools” Frank had done little or -nought; but when in August the vicar’s daughter left Porchester for six -weeks, work somehow seemed easier, and he managed to get through a fair -amount; and again, when the boys went back to school about the middle -of September, and he was left alone with his parents and sisters, there -seemed fresh opportunities for study. But then--but then back came the -vicar’s daughter, and books were again forgotten. The village seemed to -have gained fresh beauties. Every old gate and stile seemed no longer -made of common wood, every hedge no longer clad with common green. The -organ-loft where she practised in the week was no longer a dusty, dark, -break-neck place, but the place for breaking something which, whatever -lovers may say, is often easily mended by - - “Time and the change the old man brings.” - -And what a poet Frank was in those days! How he idealized, and in -his own fashion glorified, every little winding woodland path, every -glimpse of wold seen through the fading autumn leaves, every stretch of -quiet river, the old boats, the crumbling bridge, the dark weir, the -church-tower--that useful part of a young poet’s stock-in-trade. - -In fact, when he returned to Oxford one Friday evening in October, -he quite agreed with the old woman’s and the sailor’s superstition -that Friday was an unlucky day; he wrapped himself in his rug, and -felt that if his heart was not breaking, he was at least deeply in -love. Silence was his consolation. He rejected the invitation of a -friend whom he met _en route_ to transfer himself and his goods to -the atmosphere of a smoking compartment. He stared gloomily at the -persistent bookstall-boys; rejected even the offer of a Banbury cake at -Didcot. In his condition, there was something positively comforting in -that most cheerless and wretched of all stations. The wind that moaned -in the telegraph-wires seemed to murmur “Rose.” The bell that rang -violently in the platform-porter’s hand seemed like the little single -bell in Porchester Church--of course much louder and harsher to Frank’s -imagination, but it was a bell, and it recalled Rose, and that was -enough. - -Having passed safely through the turmoil of the Oxford platform, -and the loneliness of Friday night, on Saturday morning he rushed -precipitously to Davis’s picture-shop in “the Turl,”[8] and having -purchased a photograph of the Huguenot picture by Millais, hung it in a -corner by his chimney looking-glass. In that corner his friends noticed -he now was constantly to be found sitting. They, of course, did not -know that in that picture Frank saw Rose and himself under the vicarage -wall. He was at a loss, it is true, to account even to himself for the -pocket-handkerchief which is being bound round the reluctant arm. But -what mattered to him such a paltry detail, even though it made the -whole gist of the picture? - -Term began with the usual routine. Chapel at half-past eight on -Saturday evening, at which all assembled except a few who were detained -by those convenient “tidal trains,” which always seem to be late when -one is coming back from a Long-Vacation scamper on the Continent, or -from the injured Emerald Isle, but never when one is thither bound. - -And then comes Sunday morning, with the many good-intentioned -ones hurrying to their seats past the much-enduring Bible-clerk, -whose labours would, however, very soon lessen with the growth of -term;--Sunday, with the heavy luncheon;--Sunday, with the long -constitutional in the bright October sunlight--was a first Sunday in -Michaelmas Term ever other than a bright one? Dinner in Hall at six, -with the endless greetings that the confusion of Chapel had prevented. -Monday morning, with its formal calls on Master and Dean, Tutor and -Lecturer; and Monday evening, with its posted list of lectures, -club-meetings, and subscriptions; till Tuesday morning comes, with -the greater or less obedience of the victims of those various calls, -shows that term has begun in very earnest, no matter whether the -earnestness be the earnestness of industry or of that which flourishes -as abundantly--idleness. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -“THE FLYING TERMS.” - - -It was a Thursday night; and the rooms of the “Union” were crowded, -for the debate was to be opened by a popular member. A few men were -in the reading-rooms, indifferent to the subject and its mover; a -few were in the writing-room, hurrying over their letters, in order -to be in time for the “private business,” which is usually the most -amusing part of the evening’s proceedings. There were several important -telegrams posted in the Hall, and the stopping of members to read them -considerably added to the general confusion. Ladies were hurrying -upstairs to the little uncomfortable gallery,[9] with amused looks -of curiosity, or the calm equanimity of accustomed visitors. No one -to-night waited to read, either for edification or for amusement, -the endless notices of those private tutors, to whom advertisement -seems a dire necessity--those manifestos of all shades, pleading, -peremptory, apologetic, confidential, and confident, which suggest the -question:--“Where are the pupils, to be instructed by these willing and -anxious instructors?” - -The steward’s room is in possession of two attendants only, for the -steward and his indefatigable son are upstairs in the committee-room, -in attendance upon the committee. - -It is eight o’clock, and the debating-room is crammed. Every seat is -filled; but those for whom there are not seats are quite content to -stand. The gallery is fringed with women’s faces, looking down upon the -mass of men below. There is a murmur of suppressed conversation, which -suddenly ceases on the cry of “Order.” The president enters, followed -by the treasurer, librarian, and most of the members of the committee. -He is in evening dress--the exception and not the rule; in his case it -is the sign of honour. He has been dining, for the first time, at the -High table of the college which has just elected him Fellow. To-night -is his first public appearance since his election, and, being a popular -man and officer, he is loudly cheered. The officers seat themselves, -and in a moment the president rises and proclaims “Order,” and the -business of the evening commences. He first reads a list of those -members of the University proposed for election, and those already -elected, and then calls upon the librarian to bring forth his list -of books. That officer, a big-headed, ungainly man, with a squint, -hurries through a list, to which prices and particulars are appended, -and then asks any, who wish, to challenge any book or books. If any are -challenged, they are temporarily withdrawn from the list, and the rest -are put to the vote and carried; after which the objections are made to -the particular books before challenged, and are met by the librarian -with considerable ability, and the books, with one exception, carried. -He then rises to propose “That ‘The Gorgon Head’ (much laughter), by -Mr. Tennyson Jones, presented by the author to the library, be accepted -by the society, and that a vote of thanks be given to the honourable -member for his present.” - -No one wishing to challenge this proposition, it is formally put and -carried, with faint cheering. - -The president then rises: “Does any honourable member wish to put any -question to the officers of this society relative to their official -duties?” - -At least a dozen members rise in different parts of the room--we beg -pardon--the House. - -A red-headed young gentleman, with spectacles, catches first the -president’s eye, and is put in possession of the House. His voice is -high and shrill. - -“Sir--” - -“Hear! hear!” from several facetious members encouragingly. - -“Sir--I wish to ask the honourable treasurer--(loud cries of ‘Speak up, -sir’)--I wish to ask the honourable treasurer--” - -“Hear! hear!” from a stentorian voice in one corner. - -“Order! order!” - -“Sir,” again resumes the luckless red-headed inquirer, “I--I--have -lost my umbrella. I--I--put it in the stand on Wednesday -evening--(‘Hear! hear!’)--on my way to--to--the smoking-room, -and--and--and--it was not there when I came back.” And the speaker -drops into his seat. - -The treasurer takes no notice, but the president rises and says:--“I -must remind the honourable member that any statement he may have to -make must be introduced or followed by a question.” - -The owner of the lost umbrella rises, and before he has opened his -mouth is told to “speak up.” This time he does speak up, in very -shrillness: “I wish to ask the honourable treasurer whether he will -take some steps for the recovery of my umbrella.” - -The treasurer is a stout youth, short of speech and of stature. He -clips his sentences: “I must remind the honourable member that this -society is not a police institution. I regret the loss of his umbrella. -I regret still more that there are members in this society so careless -or so dishonest as to remove umbrellas not belonging to them.” - -“Sir”--from another corner--“I consider the answer of the honourable -treasurer most unsatisfactory. I now beg to ask him whether he will -take steps to prevent the robbery--(‘Oh! oh!’)--yes--robbery of the -property of members of this society.” - -The treasurer is again on his legs: “In answer to the last honourable -member, I beg to say that as far as I know anything of the funds of -this society, it is not in a position to pay for policemen to guard -the umbrellas of honourable members. If honourable members value their -umbrellas, I should recommend them to leave them in the steward’s room, -or carry them with them into whichever of the society’s rooms they may -go.” - -“Sir”--from another quarter--“will you move for a committee of inquiry -into the loss of umbrellas and other property?” (Loud cheers.) - -By this time the treasurer is white-hot:--“No, sir!” and he flumps into -his chair--(loud cheers from the treasurer’s partisans and from the -admirers of his doggedness). He is not, however, yet done with. - -“I beg to ask the honourable treasurer,” says a grimy-looking youth, -“why there are so few nail-brushes in the lavatory?” (Roars of -laughter.) - -“In answer to the honourable member,” says the treasurer, “I beg to -state that I have already given orders for a fresh and--as they seem so -much in request--a still larger supply.” (Cheers.) - -Then there is a brief space of silence. - -“Does any other honourable member wish to put any questions to the -officers of this society relative to their official duties?” - -No one rising, the president says-- - -“The House will now proceed to public business;” and after waiting a -few seconds, to give those who wish the chance to leave, he reads from -a notice-board,-- - -“The motion before the House is, ‘That the present Ministry is unworthy -of the confidence of this House and of the nation,’ moved by Mr. -Dubber, of Trinity.” - -There is a perfect uproar as Mr. Dubber rises and moves towards the -table--cheers from his supporters, groans from his opponents; but he -is too accustomed to the temper of his audience to take any notice. He -pours out a glass of water and leisurely drinks half the contents, and -waits confidently. His confidence commands attention; and in a clear, -ringing voice, he proceeds to rattle away a clever _résumé_ of the -stump speeches of his political party. There is no lack to-night of -speakers. No less than six rise directly he sits down. - -And so the debate goes on unflaggingly until half-past ten, when, there -being no more speakers, the mover replies; and then the president reads -the motion once more, and says,-- - -“Those who are in favour of this motion will say ‘Aye;’ those who are -against it will say ‘No.’” - -There are nearly 500 members present, and the noise may be imagined. - -“The ‘Noes’ have it,” is the president’s ruling. - -“Divide! divide!” from the “Ayes;” and the president accordingly gives -the order,-- - -“Those who are in favour of this motion will go to the right of the -chair; those who are against it to the left.” - -Then follows a scene of indescribable confusion. In about ten minutes’ -time the numerous tellers have agreed, and the president reads the -numbers,-- - -“Those who are in favour of this motion, 179; those who are against it, -290. The motion is therefore lost.” - -Loud cheers, and the House separates. - -Within a few days of the commencement of term, Frank had found his -name posted for rowing--that is, for rowing under the direction of the -senior men who were coaching the likely freshmen for the Torpid races, -which would come off in the ensuing Lent Term; and he took so kindly -to the work that he was soon regularly among the recognized set from -which the crew would eventually be picked. In fact, his performances -had attracted the notice of the president of the University Boat Club, -and he had been “down” with the men who were being coached with a view -to rowing against Cambridge. This was indeed an honour; and he strained -every energy to get chosen for one of the Trial Eights that were to -race at the end of term, and from which the University Eight (commonly -called “the ’Varsity”) would be selected. - -His wishes were fulfilled, and he was put No. 6 in what was supposed -to be the better of the two boats. This, of course, insured his rowing -in his College Torpid next term, and in his College Eight in the summer -term, and it might have led to a seat in “the ’Varsity.” - -As a matter of fact, it did not; but Frank was well content with the -honour of merely rowing in the “Trials,” and more especially as the -Eight in which he was rowing won the race in November. Towards the -close of term he was made a Freemason, and very proud he was to tell -his father, himself a Mason of some distinction, the various gossip -of his lodge, “The Apollo,” which claims among its members some of -England’s best-known brethren. - -One other little distinction Frank had to relate on going down for -the Christmas vacation, and that was the flattering notice, in the -_Undergraduate’s Journal_, of a poem of his which had appeared in -the University magazine, _College Rhymes_;[10] and it may safely be -asserted that no one in Porchester was prouder of the poet than the -vicar’s daughter, who saw herself reflected in the mirror of his verse. - -The Christmas vacation passed. Lent Term came, and with it the -Torpids. Paul’s made five bumps, and Frank duly posted copies of the -_Undergraduate’s Journal_, which recorded the fact, to the vicarage and -to his home. But with this proud event he abandoned for the present -most of his amusements, confined himself to the practice for the Eights -which were coming off in May, and to his work for Moderations, which -was fixed for about the same date. The college lectures not being -sufficient, he found himself obliged to “put on a coach”--_i.e._ employ -a private tutor--during the summer term; but when he got his “testamur” -in June, just a week before Commemoration, he and his father both felt -that the ten guineas[11] had been profitably expended. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -A READING PARTY. - - -Moderations being thus thrown behind, the next step was the choice of -subjects in which to take a degree. For the Second Public or Final -Examination for the degree of B.A. there is yet further scope of -subject allowed. Here, again, a student has the option of taking a Pass -or an Honour Degree; and here also both Passmen and Classmen alike have -to pass an examination in the Rudiments of Faith and Religion, the -subjects of which are:-- - -(1) The Books of the Old and New Testament. - -(2) The Holy Gospels and Acts of the Apostles in the original Greek. - -(3) The Thirty-nine Articles. - -But any candidate may for himself, or his parents or guardians for -him, object on religious grounds to this examination, and in this -case he is allowed to offer some books or subjects appointed for this -purpose by the Board of Studies. - -The subjects for the Pass Degree are arranged in three groups, as -follows, the books specified being those which may now be offered till -further notice:-- - - GROUP A. - - (1) Two books, either both Greek, or one Greek and one Latin; - one being a Greek philosophical work, and the other a Greek or - Latin historian. - - _e.g._ Aristotle’s Ethics, Books i.-iv., together with - chapters 6-10 of Book x. - - Aristotle’s Politics, Books i., iii., vii. - - Plato--Republic, Books i.-iv. - - Herodotus--Books vii.-ix. - - Livy, Books xxi.-xxiv. - - Tacitus--Annals, Books i.-iv. - - With questions on the subject-matter of the books offered. - - (2) The outlines of Greek and Roman History, with a special - period of one or the other, and English Composition. - - _e.g._ Greek--from the Legislation of Solon to the - death of Alexander the Great. - - Roman--from the establishment of the Republic to the - death of Domitian. - - Special periods. - - Greek--the Persian war; the Peloponnesian war. - - Roman--the second Punic war; the reign of Tiberius. - - GROUP B. - - (1) Either English History and a period or subject of English - Literature, or a period of modern European History, with - Political and Descriptive Geography, with English Composition - in each case. - - _e.g._ English History to 1815, with one of the - following:-- - - (_a_) Piers Ploughman--the Prologue, Passus - i.-vii.; Chaucer--the Prologue, the Knightes Tale, - the Nonne Prestes Tale. - - (_b_) Shakespeare--The Tempest, King Lear, Richard - II., Hamlet. - - (_c_) Dryden--Selections; Pope--Essay on Man, - Epistles and Satires. - - (2) French or German, including Composition and a period of - Literature. - - _e.g._ Molière, Le Tartuffe; Corneille, Les Horaces, - _or_ Racine, Athalie; Voltaire, Siècle de Louis XIV., - Chapters i.-xxiv., with a general acquaintance with - the History and Literature of the Age of Louis XIV.; - unseen passages of French: _or_, Schiller, the Maid of - Orleans; Goethe, Hermann and Dorothea, _or_ Lessing, - Nathan der Weise; Goethe, Wahrheit und Dichtung, Books - i.-iv., with a general acquaintance with the History - of the Classical period of German Literature (from - Klopstock to Goethe); unseen passages of German. - - (3) The Elements of Political Economy, to be read in Fawcett’s - Manual, and Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Nations,” Books i. and ii. - - (4) Either Stephen’s “Blackstone,” Book ii., _or_ Justinian’s - “Institutes,” omitting from Book ii., tit. 11, to Book iii., - tit. 12. - - GROUP C. - - (1) The Elements of Geometry, including Geometrical - Trigonometry. - - (2) The Elements of Mechanics, solid and fluid, treated - mathematically. - - (3) The Elements of Chemistry, with a practical examination. - - (4) The Elements of Physics, not necessarily treated - mathematically. - -Of the above subjects in the three groups each candidate is examined -in three, of which not more than two can be taken from any one of the -three groups, and of which one must be either A (1) or B (2). The -examinations in the three subjects may be passed in separate terms. - -The commonest selections made are as follows:-- - - GROUP A (1). - - GROUP B (3) and (4). - -Those men who prefer History will naturally offer the outlines of -Ancient History, as it works well with the text-books in Group A -(1). Those who are going to the Bar or to be admitted as solicitors -will naturally offer one of the branches of Law, the Roman Law being -especially the favourite with Bar-students, as the Roman Law Bar -Examination may be studied for and passed almost simultaneously. The -choice for the Classman lies among the following:-- - - 1. LITERÆ HUMANIORES, including-- - - (1) The Greek and Latin Languages. - - (_a_) Specified books and books not specially - offered. - - (_b_) Translations into Greek and Latin Prose. - - (2) The Histories of Ancient Greece and Rome. - - (_a_) Specified periods. - - (_b_) General knowledge of Classical Geography and - Antiquities. - - (3) Philosophy. - - (_a_) Logic. - - (_b_) The outlines of Moral Philosophy. - - (_c_) The outlines of Political Philosophy. - - 3. MATHEMATICS. - - (_a_) Elementary Pure Mathematics. - - (_b_) Elementary Mechanics of Solid and Fluid Bodies. - - (_c_) Pure Mathematics. - - (_d_) Mechanics of Solid and Fluid Bodies. - - (_e_) Optics, Geometrical and Physical. - - (_f_) Newton’s Principia and Astronomy. - - 4. NATURAL SCIENCE. - - Preliminary: Mechanics. - Physics. - Chemistry. - - Final: Physics. - Chemistry. - Biology. - - And the following special subjects:-- - - (_a_) Crystallography and Mineralogy. - - (_b_) Geology and Palæontology. - - (_c_) Zoology. - - (_d_) Botany. - - --taken respectively as supplementary to the general - subjects. - - 5. JURISPRUDENCE. - - (1) General Jurisprudence. - - The principles of Jurisprudence, the theory of - Legislation, and the early history of Legal - Institutions. Special reference to Austin’s - Lectures, Bentham’s Principles of Morals and - Legislation, and the works of Sir Henry Maine. - - (2) History of English Law. - - (_a_) Constitutional Law. - - The leading principles and the following - topics:--Legislative power of Parliament, the - modes in which it is exercised, and its extent - as to territory and persons. - - The prerogatives of the Crown, the privileges - of the Houses of Parliament. - - The constitutional position of the Privy - Council, the Ministers of the Crown, the - Established Church, the Courts of Law, and the - Armed Forces. - - Reference to Blackstone or Stephens’ - “Commentaries,” Stubbs’ “Documents Illustrative - of English History,” Hallam’s “Constitutional - History,” and Sir T. E. May’s “Constitutional - History.” - - The following statutes must be carefully read: - Constitutions of Clarendon. Magna Charta, Stat. - Westminster II. 13 Ed. 1, Stat. 1, c. 24. - Petition of Right. Habeas Corpus Act, 31 Car. - II. c. 2. Bill of Rights, 1 W. and M. Sess. 2, - 2. Act of Settlement, 12 and 13 Will. III. c. 2. - - (_b_) History of the Law of Real Property. - - Reference to Blackstone or Stephens’ - “Commentaries,” Digby’s “Introduction to the - History of Real Property.” Principal statutes - referred to in the latter must be mastered, - and reference may with advantage be made - to Williams’ “Treatise on the Law of Real - Property.” - - (3) Roman Law. - - The Institutes of Gaius. - - The Institutes of Justinian. - - (4) English Law. - - The principles of the Law of Contracts. - - (5) International Law. - - (_a_) The outlines of International Law as a - system. - - (_b_) The history of the law relating to seas, - ships, and navigable rivers in time of peace. - - Reference to Woolsey’s “Introduction,” and - Heffter’s “Europäisches Völkerrecht,” Wheaton’s - “Elements,” or “Law of Nations,” by Sir Travers - Twiss. On subject (_b_) Ortolan’s “Diplomatie de la - Mer,” livre deuxième. - - 6. MODERN HISTORY. - - (1) The continuous History of England. - - (2) General History during some selected period. - - (3) A special portion of History or a special - Historical subject, carefully studied with reference to - original authorities. - - (4) Political Economy, Constitutional Law, and - Political and Descriptive Geography. - - (5) A subject or period of Literature (optional). - - 7. THEOLOGY. - - (1) The Holy Scriptures (the New Testament in the - Greek). - - (2) Dogmatic and Symbolic Theology. - - (3) Ecclesiastical History and the Fathers. - - (4) The Evidences of Religion. - - (5) Liturgies. - - (6) Sacred Criticism and the Archæology of the Old and - New Testaments. - - Knowledge of Hebrew has great weight in the distribution of - Honours. - -Frank had always intended to go in for one of the Honour Schools, but -agreed with his father that there was no necessity to avail himself -of the longest allowance of time granted. He need not present himself -for three years, but his father decided that two years was quite long -enough, in addition to the year he had already spent. He must do what -he could in the two years. - -There was no dispute between father and son. Their views corresponded. -Frank was to be called to the Bar, and the Honour School of Law -was chosen for the degree. The subjects for this would, in a great -measure, answer the further purpose of the Bar Call Examination. Mr. -Ross proposed to enter Frank’s name at the Inner Temple in the ensuing -Michaelmas Term. He should then “eat dinners” during the two years in -which he was reading for his Oxford degree; that taken, he should have -one year’s reading in a barrister’s chambers. This, he considered, -ought to qualify him not only in book-work, but practically for a call. -Moreover, it would give him just the necessary time to complete the -statutable number of terms. - -Frank was anxious to enter at once, before the Trinity Term was -over, but on this point his father was firm. There was no need for -such immediate hurry. As it was, he would be qualified for a call, at -an age considerably below the average. Mr. Ross had noticed that the -first Long Vacation had been, comparatively speaking, wasted. He had -said nothing, but had resolved that the second and third should not -be a repetition of the first. He therefore directed Frank to write to -his college tutor, Mr. Woods, for particulars of the subjects for the -Honour Law School, and for advice as to a “coach” for part of the Long -Vacation; and he himself wrote to his old friend, Mr. Wodehouse, on the -latter point. - -Frank’s letter from Mr. Woods was as follows:-- - - “Paul’s. - - “DEAR MR. ROSS,--I am very glad to hear that you have so soon - made up your mind as to the subjects in which you propose to - take your degree; and I have no doubt your father’s plan of - entering you at the Inner Temple next Michaelmas Term is a wise - one. - - “Mr. Edwards, of University College, is, I have every reason - to believe, a most advisable Law ‘coach.’ He is just now - arranging a reading party to Switzerland, and I should hope - your father will consent to your joining. Tell him from me that - reading parties are not what they were in my undergraduate - days--mere pleasure-trips, in which work forms the very last - consideration. The few men now who go with a reading party - really go to read. You may mention my name in writing to Mr. - Edwards. He will, of course, furnish you with all particulars. - - “Believe me, yours sincerely, - - “J. WOODS.” - -The letter from Mr. Wodehouse was characteristic:-- - - “DEAR MR. ROSS,--Law is not my line, or I would take your boy - myself; but I know an excellent coach, Edwards of University, - who is now settling a reading party, for Switzerland, I - believe. Send your boy with him; you can’t do better. I send - by this post a copy of the Examination Regulations, revised to - this date. Details, of course, you will get from Edwards. - - “I am yours truly, - - “PHILIP WODEHOUSE.” - -After the letters, there was not much difficulty in deciding that -Edwards was the coach to be secured. But the Swiss tour! Frank said -nothing, nor did Mr. Ross--the former because he knew his father’s -disposition, the latter because he would not promise what he might not -be able, with justice to the rest of his family, to afford. - -However, after a suspense of three days, Frank was summoned after -breakfast to the study. His father had received a letter from the -coach, telling him the probable cost of the tour, and he had decided -to send Frank. The party would leave London on the 1st of July. They -were to meet for dinner at the Grosvenor Hotel at six o’clock, and go -from Victoria by the mail that catches the night-boat from Dover to -Calais. Mr. Edwards added a few particulars as to books, and, rightly -conjecturing this to be Frank’s first journey abroad, some suggestions -as to clothes and necessaries generally. - -Mr. Ross winced a little when he heard the route that was chosen. But -when he had made up his mind to an expense, he was not a man to worry -over the inevitable extras. - -The few days of June that remained passed quickly enough. Frank, -somehow, was not at home as much as his brothers and sisters could have -wished. At meals there were sundry questions as to his doings, amused -looks at his evident confusion, till even Mr. Ross, usually oblivious -to the jokes that passed between the young folks, questioned his wife -as to their meaning. - -When he heard the suggestion, he at first laughed at it as ridiculous, -then said the whole affair was “out of the question,” not from any -dislike to Rose, for he was indeed very fond of her, and finally saying -he would speak to Frank, said nothing after all. - - * * * * * - -It was a soft, sweet evening, that of June 30th, and Frank, having -finished his packing, slipped out unnoticed after dinner. It was a -difficult matter to avoid the prying eyes of his brothers, but the -dessert that evening was unusually absorbing, and long after Mr. -and Mrs. Ross had left the table, the boys were diligently making -themselves ill. Seizing the opportunity, he was three fields beyond the -paddock before his absence was even mentioned. - -He was sad, down-hearted, romantically melancholy. And yet he had a -delightful tour through Switzerland in store. Porchester had never -seemed such a lovely little place. No Swiss mountains could ever have -such beauty as those soft hills yonder; no glaciers the charm of the -gently flowing river; no Alpine forests the sweetness of these English -meadows, now silvering with the evening dew, and softening in the -falling mist. He stopped by a gate. He found his initials cut there, -just in one corner out of sight; and near them one other letter. Three -years ago he had broken his best knife, and cut his finger, over that -little work. And there it was still--lichened over now, but still -legible. He would not touch it. He wondered if it would still be there -when he came back. When he came back! Was the boy going to India for -twenty years, or to the North Pole? Who would touch the letters? Who -would even read them? Who that came by this way would be likely to stop -by that uninteresting gate, and draw aside those great dock-leaves -merely to see F. R. and R. clumsily carved? And who, if they saw them, -would trouble to deface them? - -But Frank was in love and was proportionately melancholy. And lo! as in -answer to his thoughts, softly over the new-cut grass comes the vicar’s -daughter. - -It should be clearly understood that the pathway along which Rose -came so opportunely was public, though seldom frequented. It led -from the village of Porchester to a ferry, and this carried you to a -hamlet, Wood Green, that lay within the vicar’s ministrations. Just -now there was illness in the hamlet, and Rose used daily to visit the -sick. Frank, on no such journeys bent, passed many hours of those last -days of June about the fields, and crossing and re-crossing in the -ferry-boat. Luckily this was worked by a marvellous contrivance of -wheels, ropes, and poles, and there was no observant Charon to wonder -at, and then report, the strange and repeated passages of the lawyer’s -son. Last evening, at the same time and place, he had met Rose: had -told her he was leaving for Switzerland: had gone so far as to ask her -if she was going to Wood Green the next evening; and she, because she -was Rose, told him yes. Perhaps there was another reason, the cause of -which lay in him. But she never speculated. He had asked her, and she -had told him. She was going to Wood Green, and why not say so? - -They walked slowly, oh! so slowly, across the misty meadows. They -crossed, as lazily as the stream would suffer them, the little ferry. -They reached Wood Green. It was only a basket and a message that Rose -had to deliver to-night, and Frank had not long to wait at the little -white wicket at Vowles’s cottage. Then back again, across the ferry, -and up the fields; and then, just by the gateway where they had met, -they stopped, and he showed her something, pulling aside the gigantic -dock-leaves--three letters, rudely cut, and covered with lichen. - -“I cut them three years ago,” he said. “Was it very silly?” - -“I don’t know,” she answered. - -“I loved you then, Rose,” he said softly, taking her hand, “but I love -you a thousand times more now, darling.” - -And Rose has told him something that makes him utterly happy--something -they have known these many weeks, but neither has dared to express. -They are but children, but why should they not be happy? Only boy and -girl, but is that any reason why their love should not be true? And -so they walk back through the deepening summer night, he as proud as -knight of old, and she as happy as any “fair ladye.” And then by the -vicarage garden-gate they say good-bye. They have not thought of the -future. The present is theirs, and that is enough. She is a simple -little village girl, and he an undergraduate; that is all. But “all” is -a great deal to them. - -At six o’clock in the evening of July 1st, Edwards and his six pupils -dined at the Grosvenor, wisely and not too well, in view of the passage -that night. The party consisted of Hoskins of Brasenose, reading for -Honours in Law; Lang and Kingdon of Christ Church, Maude of John’s, and -Royds of Exeter, reading for the Final Pass Schools; and Frank, who had -thus one companion only in work. Edwards was quite a young man. He had -been married about two years, but left his wife and child at home. He -was just of an age not to be “donnish,” and yet old enough to command a -certain amount of necessary respect. - -The pecuniary arrangements were as usual. Each was to pay his own -personal expenses, and tuition-fee to Edwards at the rate of 10_l._ -per month. But for the sake of convenience he would make the actual -payments, and divide the amounts weekly. - -At Victoria they broke up, for most of the men wanted to smoke. -Edwards was not a smoker, and would have travelled to Dover alone -had not Frank got into his compartment. The coach’s weakness in this -respect was the one little difficulty on the tour, and afforded a fund -of amusement to the rest, who were young enough to regard a non-smoker -with feelings of surprise. With the exception of Royds, none of the -seven had ever been abroad. He spoke French slightly, and had a -smattering of German. Edwards could not speak a word of the former, -but knew enough of the latter for comfort in travelling. No one else -spoke either. Royds plumed himself on his position of superiority, not -without offence to the rest of the party, who one and all joined in -snubbing him whenever he forgot his relation to Edwards. He was just a -source of a little “pleasant acidity.” - -“I should advise you to lie down, if you’re inclined to be sea-sick,” -said Royds, for the benefit of the party generally, when they were on -board. “I never am.” - -Edwards retired to the centre of the boat; Frank rolled himself in a -rug on a bench near the central deck cabins. The rest again consoled -themselves with cigars. The passage was long, for the night was foggy; -but the water was calm as a duck-pond. Nevertheless, Royds looked very -pale as he landed at Calais. - -They reached Paris in the early sweetness of the morning. And what -a charm the great city has at that hour, and to first-comers! The -brightness, the laughter, the sunshine of the town in its life! What a -contrast to the death and dirt of London at such an hour! - -They rushed across to an hotel near the Lyons Station, and after a -hasty breakfast, breaking into three parties, drove all over the place, -seeing, not “doing,” as much as time allowed. In the evening they left -for Geneva. Here they stayed two nights, and then went on to Chamounix -by _diligence_. From Chamounix they ascended the Montanvert to cross -the Mer de Glace. - -This was their first climb. Royds, of course, had been before; -and with quite a paternal air he selected a guide one evening, and -marshalled the party the following morning. Going up the pine-woods, -their weary eyes were refreshed by the sight of three female figures. -Without confessing as much to one another, they one and all quickened. -But still those much-wished-for forms retreated, nor did they stop -till the little hut on the top was reached. And then!--But we draw a -veil. They were charming ladies, and delighted to see these gay young -Englishmen. But, dear ladies! they were not young. However, they were -very pleasant, and the sound of the English tongue has a marvellous -charm among foreigners. - -The following morning, at ten o’clock, the corner by the Hôtel de -l’Union was the centre of interest for the good folks of Chamounix. -There at the hotel door stood seven sturdy mules and two guides. And -presently, to the infinite delight of the bystanders, seven young -Englishmen, followed by many packages, emerged and mounted. They were -bound for Martigny, over the Col de Balme. - -Poor guides! Unaccustomed to such riders, they started on their -journey in happy ignorance. That evening, at seven o’clock, after a -game struggle to keep within sight of their charges, they gave it up. -And the cavalcade, headed by Edwards, putting their mules to their -utmost speed (no contemptible pace considering their day’s work), raced -wildly by the wondering villagers into Martigny. Knapsacks banged and -flapped over the mules’ backs; tutor and pupils were boys once more, -and simply shouted with delight as they clattered through the quiet -streets. Much to his disgust the great Royds did not come in first. His -was the worst mule, he explained at _table-d’hôte_. - -All slept soundly that night at Martigny. - -There they again fell in with the ladies of the hut on Montanvert, -and talked, with all the energy of comrades in danger, of the -crossing of the Mer de Glace and the descent of the Mauvais Pas, to -the not-unreasonable amusement of Royds. Next morning they left for -Brieg, going by rail to Sierre, not without missing the first train, -and imprecating maledictions on the head of the landlord who, his -hotel being somewhat empty, was constrained to adopt some measures for -detaining his profitable guests. Arrived at Sierre, they were told -the _diligence_ for Brieg had started, and were offered carriages. -A little patience, however, proved this to be one of the usual -misrepresentations, and in due course, after a hearty _déjeûner_ in the -pretty old inn, they started in the company of a very fat ecclesiastic -and a young and happy couple of Americans. From Brieg, which they -reached at eight, after heavy rain, they were to ascend the Bel-alp, -where Edwards intended to stay for a clear fortnight or three weeks for -work. - -There was no _diligence_ to the Bel-alp; that they knew; but they had -fondly hoped there was a carriage-road. They were quickly undeceived. -There was only a bridle-path, and it was now late and getting dark. But -Edwards had resolved to push on without further delay, and, seeing he -was firm, the landlord of “La Poste” raised no objections. The heavier -luggage was to be carried up, on the following day. The absolute -necessaries were packed on the sturdy shoulders of two guides; and at -half-past eight the party started. The rain, which had been falling -heavily all the afternoon, fortunately ceased, but there was no moon, -and the clouds hung thickly. The darkness intensified the grandeur of -the hills and made the climb seem harder. Once, as they passed between -a cluster of _châlets_, all dark and still, the moon struggled into -view, and far below they saw a great white sea; but it was only the -mist that lay along the valley. At half-past ten they reached the first -halting-place, a little _châlet_ perched on a level plateau. There was -no light, and only the sound of the bells on the cows whose slumbers -they had disturbed. But presently, after some patient knocking, the -door was opened by a young giant of seven feet, with a sturdy girl at -his side. - -Royds, the officious, the experienced, the polite traveller, advanced, -took off his hat, and made some remarks in French; but neither host -nor hostess understood him, and the guide’s _patois_ was necessary -to explain. In they all trooped to the rough, low, wooden room, glad -enough to rest. The wine was sour, but it was the landlord’s best; and -they all made merry. Then one of the guides sang a Tyrolese ditty, of -which the following is a paraphrase:-- - - “With rifle aye ready, - A dog of sharp scent, - And a maiden to love him, - A lad is content. - - “What needs hath the hunter? - The hunter hath none - But a nut-brown-eyed maiden, - A dog, and a gun. - - “On Sunday, the church-day, - To dance we are gone; - Andrew leads Peggy, - Janet leads John.” - -And then the guides, the landlord, and his wife all sang together; the -young giant representing the love-sick tenor in such a way as to make -every one shout with laughter:-- - - _Tenor._ “Out of the Tyrol I come, a long, long way, - To look for my sweetheart, my little May. - _Bass._ What does he say? - _Soprano._ Ah, poor lover! - _All._ So long, so long he has not seen his love, - So long he has not seen his love! - - _Tenor._ “As any bright penny was my little Jenny! - And a dimple was in - My Jenny’s sweet chin! - _Bass._ What does he say? - _All._ So long, so long he has not seen his love! - - _Tenor._ “’Tis two long years agone - Since I left my love alone; - I’d give my true love’s weight in gold - Could I her face behold. - _Bass._ Hark what he says! - _Soprano._ O what a fond lover! - _All._ So long, so long he has not seen his love!” - -And then Edwards sang an English song, the rest joining in the chorus, -to the infinite delight of the Switzers. After which the guide -suggested moving on. - -At half-past one they reached the Bel-alp, and found, somewhat to -their surprise, that there was no village, not even a _châlet_, but -only a great inn, half wooden, half stone. The landlord, a little, fat, -hoarse-speaking man, with a thick black moustache, and two cow-girls, -called chambermaids, with their faces swathed in flannel, met them; and -presently they slept soundly in their little bare rooms, with their -wooden walls and ceilings, that made them feel for all the world as -though they were dolls put to bed in boxes. - -But what a view next morning! Down there in the valley, as they stand -at the inn door, they can just make out where Brieg lies. Beyond, the -entrance to the Simplon Pass; and, over all, the Matterhorn, Weisshorn, -Monte Leone, Mischabel, and the Fletschhorn. Up behind them towers -the great white Sparrenhorn. Down on the left crawls the broad Aletsh -Glacier, with its huge, rough, pale-blue waves moving and melting, and -foaming at the “snout” in torrents of stormy water. - -The inn was full, and three weeks went pleasantly enough. People -came and went, for the most part bound to or from the Eggisch-horn. -Every now and then there was a brief excitement caused by the arrival -of some friend whom chance had brought. Some of the visitors were -regularly settled, and with these the men soon formed acquaintance: -notably, Professor Tyndall, who was there on one of his usual summer -visits, measuring the motion of the glaciers, and who, as “Father of -the Table-d’hôte,” made the meals doubly pleasant with his genial -talk and merry laugh. Then there was another, well known in the -public-school world, with his wife--a jolly pair--and a young couple -from Ireland, who, oddly enough, turned out to be distant connexions -of Lang. The husband fraternized with the men in their climbs. The -wife spent most of her time rambling along the mountain paths within -easy distance, in which she was not unfrequently accompanied by Royds, -who flattered himself on being eminently a “ladies’ man.” There were -several old ladies who, each evening, used to entice the men to whist. -Frank usually was one of those caught. Lang and Maude, the two lazy -ones of the party, always retired to the smoking-room, whence they -never emerged till midnight. The others, for the most part, read in the -common sitting-room. Edwards devoted four hours in the morning to his -pupils’ work, from 8 to 12, and one hour before dinner. Out of respect -for Lang and Maude, their hour was fixed at 11. But, as often as not, -when that hour arrived, on looking out of the window to call them in, -their coach would hear that they were not down yet, or would see them -strolling casually down the hill to meet the mules which brought the -letters or the day’s provisions from Brieg. - -“Haven’t got any work ready yet,” would be Lang’s answer, if Edwards -managed to overtake them. - -“Do you mind taking me after dinner?” from Maude. - -But in spite of the idleness of these two, the average amount of work -achieved by the party was very creditable, and Edwards was satisfied. - -At the end of the fixed three weeks, to the great regret of the -landlord (for he found the young Oxonians thirsty to a degree) and of -most of the guests, the party departed. They went as they came, on -foot, with a couple of horses to carry their luggage, and a couple of -guides to carry Lang, who had contrived to strain his ankle. They slept -one night in Brieg--a short, restless night, with the _diligences_ -rolling through the streets and clattering into the courtyards, with -jingling bells and cracking whips, the shouts of the drivers, and the -agonized voices of weary and confused travellers. At six, in the fresh -clear dawn, they took the _diligence_ for the Rhone Glacier, and thence -over the Furka to Andermatt. There, also, they slept one night--in -fact, slept so soundly that when the _diligence_ started next morning -for Flüelen by the St. Gothard Pass, Edwards, Frank, and Royds alone -were in time for breakfast and for choice of seats; Hoskins and Kingdon -only saved their seats by chasing the _diligence_ after it had started; -while the first that Lang and Maude saw of the morning was the sight -of the _diligence_ turning a corner, with three of their companions -seated outside, and two running frantically after it. But they consoled -themselves with the reflection that this delay would furnish them -with an excellent excuse for “cutting” the next day’s lesson with -Edwards. Frank was separated from the rest of the party, having for his -companion a little soldier who spoke neither French nor German, but an -unintelligible _patois_ which made conversation impossible. - -About ten o’clock they passed Altdorf. The little town looked so -bright and gay, full of reverence for its William Tell, and ignorant -of, or despising, the knowledge that makes his story a myth. Thence to -Flüelen, and thence over the clear waters of the Vierwaldstätter See to -Lucerne. What a change from the Bel-alp! Here all is softened--grown -Italian almost. Just in the distance a few snowy peaks; but the -frowning heights have melted to soft wooded hills--running down to -look at themselves in the glassy mirror. Lucerne was reached about -one o’clock; and here, at the Englischer Hof, right on the quay, a -hospitable welcome met them. - -Lang and Maude revelled in the change. For them the Bel-alp was too -cold, too dull; but here they had the lake, the shops, the _cafés_, -the band at night, and all those countless charms which no English -town seems to possess. Here even Frank relaxed a little. They made -excursions every day, for the most part in the comfortable little -steamers. They went up the Rigi luxuriously in the train. Edwards, -Royds, and Frank climbed Pilatus; the rest were content with the Rigi. -They bought presents, useless as well as useful; they strummed on the -_salon_ piano, and sang in broken German, to the intense delight of -the waiters. They spent the evenings invariably in a little _café_ -round the corner, where Gretchen’s merry black eyes flashed from one -to another, hardly divining the relationship of the party; or, if not -there, on the _boulevard_, listening to the band; and sometimes on the -lake; and it was on one of these occasions that Edwards astonished them -by his vocal as well as his poetical powers. - -He called his song, “The Lay of the Vice-Chancellor,” and it ran as -follows:-- - - “I’ve sung you many a ditty, some stupid and some witty, - In our snug and cosy common-rooms after dinner many a day; - But there’s one I have omitted, of a blunder I committed, - That may serve you as a warning, and may while an hour away. - When I was young and hearty, I took a reading party - (“Hear, hear!” from the audience) - To study in America one summer long ago; - And while out there we tarried, I went--and--I got married, - And what that is, my bachelors, you very little know. - But upon that little portion of my most unhappy tale, - Will you kindly, will you kindly draw a veil, draw a veil? - _Chorus._--Draw a veil! draw a veil! - - “But oh! when I reflected that I should be expected - To forfeit either Fellowship or wife, - I thought ’twould be a pity she should leave her native city - And be tied to an old tutor all her life. - When I pictured you all cosy, at your port wine old and rosy, - And I was at cold mutton, and romance was growing cool-- - When I thought of you so gaily dining gloriously daily, - I took a _single_ cabin in a ship for Liverpool. - But upon the mix’d emotions of my hurried homeward sail, - Will you kindly, will you kindly draw a veil, draw a veil? - _Chorus_ (_very gently_).--Draw a veil! draw a veil! - - “Since then, by her unhamper’d, up fame’s ladder I have scamper’d, - And run through all our snug berths in a trice; - I’ve been Bursar, Dean, Professor, Public Orator, Assessor, - And sat on a commission once or twice. - I’ve told quite different stories to the Liberals and Tories; - I’ve snarl’d among the Radicals, “Retrench!” - But I really should not wonder if my friend Lord Blood-and-Thunder, - On the very next occasion, should transfer me to the Bench. - So really let me beg you on _that_ portion of my tale, - Will you kindly, will you kindly draw a veil, draw a veil? - _Chorus._--Draw a veil! draw a veil!” - -When they were all back again in Oxford, even many terms afterwards, -“Draw a veil” was always a sort of pass-word between them. - -A fortnight soon passed, and they travelled together to Paris. Here -they parted, Frank going straight to Porchester, Edwards to Oxford. -Frank had made a good start with his law reading, and, thanks to -Edwards’ style of teaching, had thoroughly grasped all that he had -touched, and what is more, liked his subjects. One practical point -before passing to other scenes: his expenses were 50_l._;--35_l._ for -railway fares, hotel bills, &c., 15_l._ to Edwards for tuition. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -IN THE THICK OF IT. - - -Paul’s had no Law Lecturers, and Frank was therefore compelled to -“put on a coach.” He accordingly wrote to Edwards, a week before term -commenced, to arrange with him. Much to his surprise, the College -offered to pay half the fee on his behalf, which after all was but -fair, considering that he had to pay his College tuition fees, although -there were no lectures for him. By Edwards’ advice he attended certain -of the Law Professors’ Lectures, which were open to the University at -large--in some cases on payment of 1_l._, in others free. Six hours in -each week were spent at these, and three hours with Edwards; and with -a daily average of four hours’ private reading he considered he was -industrious. His degree seemed so far off. He would work more when the -time was drawing nearer. So he consoled himself, and so the time went -by. - -Of Crawford he saw little, for it was his last term, and he was in -for Honours in the Final Classical Schools in November. But on Sunday -they used to lunch together--alternately in one another’s rooms--and -go for a long constitutional afterwards. To Crawford alone of his many -friends he confided his hopes. To him alone he told his dreams of -Rose, of their engagement, and even of the marriage in the future. And -Crawford never laughed at him, or pooh-poohed the notion as a boyish -fancy; for he saw that if there was one thing more than another which -would keep him straight, and make him stick to his work, it was the -hope of one day making a home for Rose. But the Bar! How hopeless it -seemed! To talk of marriage, at least three years before the wig could -be worn, much less a brief gained! Still the boy was hopeful. And why -damp his energy? Besides, Crawford had a belief--he knew it was not a -prevalent one--that though there are so many barristers, the Bar as a -profession is not really so crowded as the world believes; that if you -eliminate the large numbers of so-called barristers who live by their -pen, by speculating--by anything, in fact, except the profession they -claim, the number of men left is by no means large enough to do the -work that offers. Again, he knew that he came of a family of lawyers, -with large firms in various towns, and at least one of considerable -eminence in London. So that altogether he by no means considered the -boy’s ambitions and dreams as baseless or silly. As for himself, he -hardly cared to confess his hopes. But Frank had always placed him, -in anticipation, in the position Crawford secretly desired. He seemed -fitted in every way for a Fellowship and Tutorship. To begin with, he -was a gentleman in birth and in heart. He would therefore know how to -feel with, and for, all the various grades of men with whom he would -come in contact: unlike the many who, with neither the breeding nor the -feelings of gentlemen, have nothing but their intellectual supremacy to -recommend them. - -As to Crawford’s intellectual powers, he had already given ample -proof. He had taken a first class in Classical Moderations. He had -won the Chancellor’s prize for Latin Verse, and had been _proxime -accessit_ for the Stanhope Essay. And then, to crown all, from the -boyish undergraduate point of view, he had rowed in his College Eight, -and won the Diamond Sculls at Henley. Why, he was the very _beau-ideal_ -of a Fellow. A handsome, clever, athletic English gentleman. Oxford -has had many such, and, thank God, she has them still. Men who -consider a fellowship and tutorship a sacred trust; who look upon the -undergraduates as friends to be helped, guided, and taught, but not in -mere learning for the schools; who will draw out, not crush, the fresh -hopefulness of youth; who will cheer, not cloud, boys’ ambitions; who -will look for good qualities, not watch and wait for errors; whose -chief thought will be what good they can do, and not what fines they -can impose. - -“Do you see much of Monkton now?” Crawford asked, as they were walking -to Godstow by the upper river. - -“Very little,” said Frank. “I can’t think what he does with himself.” - -“Not much, I fancy. I see him loafing occasionally, and I believe -that’s pretty nearly all he does. However, I’m glad you don’t see much -of him.” And Crawford changed the subject. “What’s this I hear of you -and the _Undergraduates’ Journal_? You don’t mean to say you’ve taken -to write in it? I should have thought you had work enough to do.” - -Frank got red and confused. - -“Well, the fact is--I have written a few things; but it didn’t take -much time.” - -“Ah! that’s just where it is,” said Crawford. “If you do anything of -that sort at all, it’s worth doing well--just as everything is, for -the matter of that. You haven’t time to do it well, and you square -the matter by doing it hurriedly. You’d far better stick to your Law -reading.” - -“I say, old fellow,” remonstrated Frank, “I didn’t come out for a -lecture. You’re a regular old school-master. I only wrote three little -poems, or ‘sets of verses’ as I suppose I ought to call ’em: that’s the -extent of my writing.” - -“Oh!” said Crawford, somewhat mollified. “Well, take my advice; get -your degree first and write afterwards.” - -“That’s all very well,” retorted Frank; “but I should like to know how -you expect a fellow to be able to write without practice? Reading Law -and writing answers to papers don’t help one.” - -“I don’t think we’ll discuss the question any further,” answered -Crawford. “You want to marry Rose, I know, as quickly as possible. -Well, my opinion is that you’ll do it a great deal more quickly by -reading Law than by writing poetry.” - -Frank was silent. There was truth in what Crawford said, he knew; but -he could not help writing poetry. And whether he will ever be a known -poet, ever succeed in charming the hydra-headed public, or not, he -certainly had one requisite in a maker--spontaneity. Rose, of course, -considered him a poet in the highest sense of the term. In fact, she -cared for no poetry but his, which speaks volumes for her affection, -but little for her powers of criticism. But if lovers are to be -critics, Love may as well go to Mr. Critchet, and be operated on for -cataract. - -Term, with all its activity, was passing quickly. Every day till two -o’clock Frank devoted himself to his work. From two till five he rowed, -or practised at the butts. From five till six he usually spent at the -Union, reading the papers or magazines. Dinner at six. He did not do -much work in the evening, for various reasons--chiefly, because he -was too lazy--excusing himself because he thought his eyes were weak; -and partly because of various engagements. On Tuesday evening there -was either a regular Apollo lodge-meeting, or a lodge of instruction. -Monday, the Paul’s Debating Society. Wednesday, the practice of the -Philharmonic, a somewhat different form of excitement from the usual -undergraduate amusements, owing to the presence of a large number of -ladies. Thursday, the debate at the Union, in which he usually took -part. Friday and Saturday had no definite fixture; but then there was -always something in the shape of nondescript entertainment at the -“Vic.,” or concert at the Town Hall or Corn Exchange; or else there was -a friend to be asked to dinner in Hall, or an invitation to dinner to -accept. Altogether, his evening work never amounted to more than one -hour on the average. - -One evening, seeing a large poster announcing a performance by “the -great Bounce,” he turned up the narrow little passage which leads from -Magdalen Street to the “gaff” that is dignified by the name of theatre. -Here, by permission of the Very Reverend the Vice-Chancellor, and his -Worship the Mayor--a permission always necessary and always publicly -announced--entertainments of every description, as long as they are -not stage plays, are performed. Conjurors, mimics, ventriloquists, -mesmerists, Tyrolese singers, Japanese acrobats, music-hall singers -of every grade and degree, display themselves before a crowded -audience of undergraduates. But anything so demoralizing as a play -of Shakespeare or other healthy author is strictly forbidden. The -authorities doubtless have their reasons, but it is somewhat hard to -imagine what those reasons can be. An occasional concert is given in -the Town Hall or Corn Exchange, to which of course ladies can go; but -from the entertainments in the “Vic.,” good, bad, or indifferent, they -are absolutely debarred. And in very, very few instances do they miss -anything worth seeing. - -The first person whom Frank recognized on entering was Monkton, -who was sitting in a stage-box, or at least in what does duty for -a stage-box. He was dressed in a somewhat startling costume of -ginger-colour check; a bright crimson necktie; his hat well on the side -of his head; an enormous cigar in his mouth, which he appeared to be -sucking rather than smoking. Between his knees, a gigantic bull-dog, -whose efforts to plunge upon the stage or into the orchestra he was -with difficulty controlling. Another man sat with him, dressed, if it -were possible, in louder style than he; and from the tone of their -voices they appeared not a little pleased with themselves and with the -impression they were creating. The theatre was crammed from floor to -ceiling; the University element decidedly predominating; the town being -represented by a gallery full of that peculiar style of cad and cadger -for which Oxford seems so famous. The smoke from pipes and cigars was -far too thick to allow of recognition except at a very short distance; -and Frank was much relieved to find that Monkton did not “spot” him. - -We need not describe the performance. The vulgar, strutting, -swaggering comique, who supplies in fancied wit what he lacks in voice; -the booming tenor, who yells “Tom Bowling” to give respectability to -the entertainment; the brazen-throated “lady vocalist,” who disdains -to be called a singer, and who certainly doesn’t deserve the title, -are all too wearisome and sickening to merit notice, but for the -lamentable fact that they are patronized by the undergraduate because -the University authorities refuse to sanction anything better. - -The entertainment had not proceeded very far before Monkton had -attracted the notice of the “star” of the evening, who, seeing that he -had the audience on his side, commenced, in the spoken portion of his -performance, to chaff “the gentleman in ginger.” Monkton’s position was -too prominent for him to venture to respond; perhaps, too, he was not -good at repartee. At all events, he drew back out of sight as far as -possible, contenting himself with allowing his dog to put his forefeet -on the cushion of the box and to growl an answer to the chaff. - -The next performer happened to be a young lady not quite so much at -her ease as is usual in these persons. She was evidently frightened at -the dog; and Monkton, seeing his opportunity, made the brute growl and -spring forward as near the singer as possible. There were loud cries -of “Turn him out!” The singer stopped in the middle of her song, burst -into tears, and ran off at the wings. The manager came forward and -expostulated. By this time the gallery was infuriated. Then Monkton let -the dog go, and with a bound he cleared the orchestra and leapt on the -stage. The manager, in evident trepidation, rushed off. The orchestra -seized their instruments, and hastily began to decamp; some one in -the confusion turned out most of the gas; and at that moment a cry of -“Proctors!” was heard. - -It was by the merest chance that the Senior Proctor happened to be -passing, and hearing the unusual disturbance, and the shouts which -were evidently not shouts of applause, came in. He sent two of his men -to one door, and he himself with two waited at the principal exit. -There they took everybody’s “name and College,” giving directions as -to the usual call on the following morning; and then, when the theatre -was emptied, sent for the manager, and learned the facts of the case. -Monkton had, of course, made his way out with the rest, with no further -notice from the Proctor than they; but his time was to come. - -There was a great crowd at nine the next morning at the Senior -Proctor’s rooms. The men went as a matter of form, hardly expecting to -be fined for going to an entertainment sanctioned by the University, -and simply anticipating an order to attend before the Vice-Chancellor -for an investigation of the _fracas_ of the preceding evening. Monkton -appeared with the rest; and from the way in which every one gave him -the cold shoulder he saw pretty clearly that no one would screen him. -At twelve o’clock he received an official notice to answer before the -Vice-Chancellor to the charge of setting and inciting a bull-dog, with -intent to do bodily injury, and so forth. - -At eleven o’clock on the following day there was such a crowd as had -not been seen in the Vice-Chancellor’s Court for many a long day. The -case was investigated as before a magistrate, the Vice-Chancellor being -_ex officio_ a justice of the peace for the city of Oxford, with, -however, far greater powers. There were plenty of undergraduates who -gave evidence in support of the charge, and the manager and singers -gladly exonerated the rest of the audience. It was acknowledged on -all sides that neither Monkton nor the “star” comique put in so -easy and unembarrassed an appearance before the Very Reverend the -Vice-Chancellor and the Proctors as they did in their respective -positions on the eventful evening. It was in vain that Monkton’s -solicitor urged provocation on the part of the “star.” There were -plenty of men ready to testify that they too had been chaffed. The -Vice-Chancellor gave the defendant a sharp reprimand, fined him 5_l._, -and “sent him down for a term.” - -The Proctor’s summons to the rest of the men was allowed to pass, and -they heard no more of the matter. - -The Michaelmas Law Term commenced on the 2nd of November, and Frank -obtained leave from the Dean to go to town to enter at the Inner Temple -and eat his first three dinners. He left at 9 a.m., with feelings -somewhat akin to those he had on starting from home for matriculation, -with the important difference, however, that there was no examination -to face. His father met him at Paddington, and they drove straight -to the Temple. At the gate of the “Inner” they found the two friends -who had promised to be sureties for the payment of fees. With them -they went to the Steward’s office, and there Frank presented a paper -signed by the Dean of Paul’s to the effect that he had passed a Public -Examination at Oxford. This exempted him from any examination on -admission as a student of the Inns of Court. On payment of one guinea -he obtained a form of admission, to be signed by two barristers to -vouch for his respectability, with which he and his father went to -the chambers of two friends, who gave the necessary signatures; then -back again to the Treasurer’s office, where the two sureties entered -into a bond to the amount of 50_l._; and by a further payment of five -guineas for the privilege of attending the Public Lectures of the Law -Professors, and 35_l._ 6_s._ 5_d._ for fees and stamp on admission, the -whole business was complete, and Frank was a student of the Honourable -Society of the Inner Temple. - -A little pleasant chaff about the woolsack, and the quartet broke up, -the two sureties to their respective businesses, Frank and his father -to lunch. Then Mr. Ross took a cab to Paddington, leaving Frank at -the door of Maskelyne and Cooke’s mysterious entertainment, where he -proposed a little mild dissipation till it was time to go down to the -Temple to dine. - -Hurrying through the crowd of students and newspaper-boys at the -lodge just before six o’clock, he met three friends, and the usual -expressions of mutual surprise were uttered. They agreed to make up a -mess together, and certainly would not have accepted the definition -of a mess as “a party of four who eye each other with feelings of -mutual distrust and suspicion.” Frank, as freshman, had to “stand” -the orthodox bottle of wine, and felt quite like an old fogey as he -“took wine” with the three. With the exception of wine, and the power -of sending for various sorts of liquors, the dinner was very much the -same as the usual dinner in Hall at Oxford. The servants were better -dressed, but waited worse. There was more order, from the fact that -everybody has to be present at grace before and after meat, failing -which, the dinner does not count. Then the diversity of age and style -of men struck Frank. Old men and beardless boys sitting side by side, -wearing the student’s gown; mild-looking students with pale faces and -spectacles; fast men, in whom the notion of study seemed a ridiculous -anomaly; dark faces from the East; and even a few of the thick lips -from Africa. All the rest--the Benchers at the high table, the -portraits overhead, the coloured windows, the fretted roof, the carved -panelling--it was all familiar; Oxford over again, simply transplanted -to the very heart of London. - -After dinner they went to a theatre, and after that Frank was initiated -into the mysteries of Evans’s. - -The three evenings passed all too quickly, and he was once more in -Oxford, with the sense of having at least made one distinct step -towards winning Rose, even though it was such a matter-of-fact affair -as the eating of three dinners. - -There was not much to mark the succeeding Lent Term. There were -the “Torpids” as usual, in which Frank again rowed, and with such -decided improvement that he was considered safe for the “Eight” in the -summer term. There was the ordinary scarlet-fever scare; a suicide -of a studious undergraduate, the annual result of the climate, and -the Lenten depression of the social atmosphere; and there were the -Christ-Church Grinds,[12] and the Brasenose Ale Festival on Shrove -Tuesday. - -To the former Frank went, surreptitiously of course, for the Grinds are -with annual regularity forbidden, but with equal regularity carried -out. The Proctors for the time being were not over-sharp, and imagined -that the simplest and easiest way to catch the men coming home from -Aylesbury was to go to the station and meet the in-trains. But, strange -to relate, not a single undergraduate was to be found! Innocently -confessing his failure on the following evening in Common Room, the -Senior Proctor drew upon himself the ridicule of one of the older -fellows, a sporting man, and the “inextinguishable laughter” of the -rest. - -“You don’t mean to say you expected to find them at the station? Why, -man alive! what is easier than to tip the guard and engine-driver -half-a-sovereign, and have the train stopped just by the Goods-station?” - -The Senior Proctor mentally resolved to be sharper in future. He was -sharper--when he caught men. But his sharpness was the sharpness of -acidity and not of acuteness. - -The Brasenose Ale Festival is simply ordinary dinner in Hall, at which -some special ale, brewed by the College and kept for high occasions, -is given in unlimited quantities to the undergraduates. Possibly the -most important feature (certainly it is the most uncommon) is the -fact of the ale being given. Anything not paid for is a fact so rare -that of itself it deserves a festival to commemorate it. The ale is -celebrated in a poem which is supposed to be written by the College -Butler. College Butlers being, however, not necessarily gifted with the -poetic faculty, the honour or duty is deputed to some undergraduate. -The merits of the verses vary, apparently with the quality of the ale, -which is sometimes good, often bad, and usually indifferent. In a -collection of the productions of the laureates of the barrel, lately -published, are verses by Bishop Heber, by Garbett, once Professor of -Poetry, and others of less reputation. The various later authors may -be found in country rectories, doubtless endeavouring on temperance -principles to counteract the effects of the obnoxious liquor, which in -the days of their youth they celebrated in such festive fashion. - -The College bounty did not stop short, however, at ale; cakes of ample -proportions were cut up and distributed. But when all rose to bless the -indirect giver, and the direct benefactor, it must of course have been -indigestion or malicious scepticism which made Frank’s host whisper to -him,-- - -“I wonder what the difference is between the pecuniary value of the -bequest, when it was made to the College, and its present value.” - -Frank, not being able to hazard a conjecture, made the most apposite -remark his state of ignorance allowed,-- - -“You’d better ask the Bursar.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -THE CLOSE. - - -Frank read with Edwards in the Summer term, the College again -paying half the fee. He rowed in the Eights, and Paul’s made four -bumps, thereby getting head of the river. To commemorate the event a -“bump-supper” was given. All the men, with the exception of a very -few, subscribed the necessary guinea, and, as many brought guests, the -supper was emphatically a success. The exceptions were of the three -ordinary types: those who could not afford a guinea for such a purpose, -and who were not ashamed to say so; those who considered “bump-suppers” -and such-like entertainments as immoral orgies; and lastly, those who -both enjoyed them and who could afford to subscribe, but who were -too mean to do so, and preferred rather to extract an invitation to -another college bump-supper in the specious manner which usually -characterizes the tight-fingered. The Dons readily gave permission for -the use of the hall, with certain provisos as to time of termination -of the feast. Cooks and scouts vied with one another, in a spirit not -altogether disinterested, in supplying and laying out the best that -the College kitchen could provide. A gorgeous dessert was ordered from -a neighbouring confectioner, and wine came in without stint or stay. -Slap’s[13] excellent band was engaged, and discoursed most sweet music -from time to time during the evening. And then, what speeches were -made! What songs were sung! How they all cheered when the captain of -the boat-club returned thanks! And--tell it not in the Common Room, -whisper it not to the Dons (for the very simple reason that they know -by experience what it all means)--what aching eyes, what cracking -heads, what foul and furry tongues there were next morning! Nor did -the store of College legends fail to receive the additions usual on -such occasions; and one story even reached the Master’s ears: how that -the captain of the boat-club was observed, long after the last guest -had passed the porter’s lodge, sitting in a corner of one of the back -quadrangles, rowing with all his might at an imaginary oar, shouting -every now and then to “bow” to keep time, and telling the “cox” not to -put the rudder on so sharp. - -Frank did not stay up for Commemoration; that he reserved as a -pleasure for the following year. His final examination would then be -over, and he would be able to enjoy all the fun and gaiety in his new -glory as Bachelor of Arts. Before going down he had a consultation -with Edwards as to his work in the “Long.” The latter was again going -to take a reading party abroad, but he advised Frank not to join; he -told him that in his present state of progress he could do more work -at home. Frank was relieved by the advice, for he knew his father -could not afford to send him abroad again. But he felt he might close -with Edwards’ proposal to come up a month before the Michaelmas Term -began, chiefly for the purpose of making his work safe for the first -Bar Examination in Roman Law, which was fixed for the end of October. -Edwards wished him to go in for this on his first opportunity; for he -felt that, apart from the direct advantage in passing, the examination -would prove of service as a partial test for the final Oxford -Examination in the ensuing summer. - -Mr. Ross was not only satisfied but pleased with the scheme for Frank’s -work. He was a man who always looked ahead and tried to map out the -future. He felt that men for the most part create their own future, -and that where the object in view is clearly marked out, and the means -to that object carefully weighed and chosen with firm determination, -chance is but a trifling factor in a man’s career. He loathed that -comfortable philosophy which folds its hands and leaves “Time and the -hour” to work for one. So far his plans had been fulfilled; and if this -had made him somewhat dogmatic and obstinately fond of insisting that -“anything can be done if only there is the will to do it,” it had, at -all events, taught his children the lesson of dogged perseverance and -the value of far-sightedness. - -Frank spent a pleasant “Long” vacation. He had plenty of cricket -and boating; he saw Rose at least three times every week. There were -endless picnics and lawn-tennis parties. Above all, he got through a -good deal of reading. During the three months he was at home he worked, -on an average, five hours every day; but by judiciously arranging -these he always found plenty of time for amusements. He bathed in the -river, wet or fine, every morning at seven; read from eight till nine; -breakfasted at nine; read from ten till one. By this plan he always -had done four hours’ work before luncheon; and he had no difficulty -in keeping up his average number by regulating the rest of his work -according to the general plans for the day’s amusements. - -The month’s reading in Oxford during the “Long” was, of course, a -novelty, but he did not find the dulness he expected. He saw a good -deal more of Edwards than in his tutorial capacity, and soon made great -friends with his wife; and as young men are at a premium in Oxford out -of term, his social vanity was flattered by numerous invitations. - -Towards the latter part of October he went to town for the Bar -Examination. He put up at the Inns of Court Hotel, to be near Lincoln’s -Inn, in the Hall of which he duly appeared one Saturday morning at ten -o’clock. He saw plenty of familiar faces and several friends. One of -the examiners also was an Oxford professor. The paper--there only was -one--was not difficult, and Frank had very nearly finished when, just -on the stroke of twelve o’clock, he was called up for _vivâ voce_. The -plan struck him as strange; and as he was kept waiting for at least -twenty minutes, he envied the other candidates who were still writing -or looking over their papers. His _vivâ voce_, however, did not last -very long, and he had ample time to correct his work carefully. Within -a week he received the pleasant news that he had passed, and went up in -November to eat his dinners, with a certain amount of pride at having -achieved one more distinct step towards his desired end. - -Not long after this, Crawford, who had taken a “first” in the summer, -gained a Fellowship at Queen’s; and by an odd coincidence, another -of his friends, Monkton, was sent down about the same time. His -rustication after the escapade in the theatre had apparently failed -to inspire him with any awe of the University authorities, and he had -scorned the notion of the Proctors being able to track or catch him in -any of his favourite haunts, till one night he received palpable and -painful evidence to the contrary. The matter was promptly settled. He -was summoned before the Vice-Chancellor and the Proctors privately; his -previous offence was proved against him; a bad report came from his own -college authorities; his name was removed from the books, and he was -told to leave Oxford at once. The remainder of his history is neither -poetic nor uncommon. He disappeared from the surface for a season, -only to rise, however, on the tide of a theological college. Thence, -having easily satisfied a bishop--for he was by no means a fool--he was -ordained, and, having passed a few years as junior curate, was promoted -to be his vicar’s vicegerent, and glided into a more comfortable, -decent existence, much invited and much beslippered by the ladies of -his congregation. - -The spring soon passed away, and with the end of May all the -examinations began. - -Frank felt far more nervous when he appeared in the Schools for -Divinity than subsequently for Law. Failure in the former would prevent -him from taking his degree that term; and failure was quite possible -even to one who had a very good general knowledge of the matter and -teaching of the Bible. It is not easy to see what good is effected -by an examination which induces cramming, irreverence, and a cordial -dislike of its subject. It certainly furnishes an inexhaustible store -of amusing stories. - -“_What do you know of Gamaliel?_” - -“It is a mountain in Syria.” - -“_Who was Mary Magdalene?_” - -“The mother of our Lord.” - -“_Who was Zacchæus?_” - -“He was the man who climbed up a sycamore-tree, exclaiming, ‘If they do -these things in the green tree, what will they do in the dry?’” - -“_Describe accurately the relations between the Jews and Samaritans -from the earliest periods._” - -“The Jews had no dealings with the Samaritans.” - -“_What is the meaning of phylactery?_” - -“An establishment where love-philtres were made. The Pharisees did -a good business in these; hence the expression ‘Make broad your -phylacteries,’ means, ‘Extend your business.’” - -“_Why was our Lord taken before the high priest first, and not before -Pilate?_” - -“Because Peter had cut off his servant’s ear.” - -“_Who was Malchus?_” - -“He was the High priest’s servant whose ear Peter cut off, and supposed -to be the author of a treatise on population.” - -Frank contributed one to the stock of blunders. Given the Greek words -and asked to explain the context of “The thorns sprang up and choked -it,” he translated them, “The thieves sprang up and choked him;” and -proceeded to give an elaborate description of the parable of the Good -Samaritan. He did not, however, end in the legendary manner: “He took -out two pence and gave them to the host, saying, ‘Whatsoever thou -spendest more, when I come again I will repay thee.’ This he said, well -knowing he should see his face no more.” - -He answered the rest of the paper, as he thought, fairly; and, -from the short _vivâ voce_ he had a few days later, inferred that -the written part of his work was better than he imagined; and two -hours afterwards received in exchange for the customary shilling the -much-coveted piece of blue paper from the patient Parker, clerk of the -schools. A few days elapsed, and then he went in for Law. We need not -follow him through all the details. As so often happens, he did better -than he expected in the subjects he feared most, and worse in those he -fancied he should do better. But on the whole he was satisfied with his -performance. In _vivâ voce_ he considerably improved his position, and -to this he attributed the fact that when the class-list appeared he -found himself in the second instead of the third class. A first he had -never expected to get; but Edwards learnt from the examiners that he -was considered a good second-class man, having amply retrieved in _vivâ -voce_ the failure in one of his papers which had threatened to lower -him to the third. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -GOWN AT LAST. - - -So now it was all over--all the work and anxiety. The taking of -his degree remained, and--Commemoration. It was Thursday when the -class-list appeared. The following Sunday was Show Sunday, the -semi-official commencement of the festivities. He telegraphed to -his father: “Have got a second. You must come up for Commem. I hope -to put on my gown on Thursday.” He telegraphed to Rose. He wrote a -long letter to his mother by that night’s post, begging her to bring -one of his sisters and Rose. He wrote to Rose herself. He was in a -whirl of excitement, and to conceal his emotion he ordered an elegant -summer suit, which he did not in the least require, at a most obliging -tailor’s not a hundred yards from St. Mary’s Church. So obliging was -he, in fact, that it is matter of history that when a certain wealthy -and aristocratic Irishman, in a flow of unbounded extravagance, -ordered him to “send in his whole shop,” the tailor, with undisturbed -equanimity, replied, “Certainly, sir! What time would you like it?” - -The receipt of Frank’s letter, and the request that his mother would -bring Rose, produced a little commotion. His father still tried to -pooh-pooh the notion of an engagement; but his mother, who had Frank’s -confidence, maintained that, as far as the two were concerned, the -engagement was a reality, and that it only waited the formal consent -of the parents and the means to marry. So it was at last decided that -Mr. and Mrs. Ross, and Frank’s elder sister, Mary, would go. The Vicar, -glad of an excuse to visit Oxford again, agreed to join the party -and bring Rose. And Rose herself--well, there was no need to ask her -consent. On Friday morning a telegram was despatched to Frank, telling -him they were coming on Saturday evening, and giving him directions to -secure lodgings; and Mary and Rose were together most of the day and -evening, arranging, selecting, altering, and making various articles of -adornment for the coming gaieties. - -Pembroke concert had taken place on Thursday, Queen’s on Friday, and -there was nothing for Saturday. But that was no loss to Frank’s party, -for they were all too tired for any gaiety after their long journey. -By a fluke--for he was late in looking for lodgings--he found some -disengaged rooms in Grove Street; and the shady little corner, so close -to the sunny, busy High, was most pleasant and convenient. After supper -the Vicar went down to Christ-Church to “look up” some old friends, -still in residence as Senior Students,[14] and the rest strolled by -Merton to the river. Mr. and Mrs. Ross, not caring to trust themselves -to the boat which Frank had chosen, wandered round the paths by the -Cherwell, and, after losing themselves by the Botanical Gardens, -eventually got safe to Grove Street. Frank rowed Rose and Mary down -to Sandford, where he gave them tea in the little inn overlooking the -lock, and then took them round to see the lasher that has been so fatal -to many bright young lives. - -Coming home, he pointed out to them all the spots of interest and -importance to the rowing man. The tavern at Iffley where the last of -the Eights starts in the races; the Green Barge, at the entrance to -the “Gut;” the Gut itself, that terror of young coxswains; the Long -Bridges; the White Willow where the boats make their final crossing -to the Berkshire bank on the journey home. Every spot had its little -history. Here, in the first Torpids, he had nearly “caught a crab.” -There his crew had made their final “spirt;” here they had bumped -Brasenose, when the coxswain would not acknowledge the bump. There -“bow” broke his oar, and nearly pitched out of the boat. Yonder, -strolling quietly down the Berkshire bank, was Harvey, the Humane -Society’s man. There was old George West on the Brasenose barge; there, -just above, was Timms, the “Father of the Crews,” leading a quiet time -of it, now that the “Eights” and the “Sculls” and “Pairs”[15] were -over. Frank took the girls into the ’Varsity barge, and showed them -the pictures of the old “oars,” who had rowed for Oxford at Henley -and Putney; and told them what little legends had come down to him of -Chitty and Meade-King, Arkell and Warre, Morrison and Woodgate; and, -coming to later times, of Tinney, Willan, Yarborough, and Darbishire, -the famous four who, besides their glories at Putney, licked the -Yankees from Harvard; and, in later times still, of Leslie and Houblon, -Edwards-Moss and Marriott. They were all heroes to Frank--these “brutal -rowing men,” as Mr. Wilkie Collins deems them--these savages whose only -glory is their brute strength. It has been said that English battles -have been won in the Eton playing-fields. Possibly the Isis and the -Cam have as much as anything to do with the feats of dogged endurance -and quiet pluck that have made Alma and Inkerman, Isandula and Rorke’s -Drift, immortal names in the annals of warfare. - -On Sunday they all went to St. Mary’s. The Vicar’s gown admitted the -ladies to the seats appropriated to the wives of the Masters of Arts, -and Mr. Ross to the seats of the Masters themselves. Frank, being still -_de jure_ an undergraduate, had to retire to the upstair gallery. -The church was crowded. People were even standing in the aisles. The -sermon, by a silver-haired professor with a cherubic face, was a -discourse on friendship, delivered, if somewhat monotonously, with a -delicate utterance and in a delicate phraseology that was quite too -charming; and if it formed a rather strange contrast to the anathemas -thundered by rural Boanerges to placid congregations in sweltering -country churches, the contrast was a pleasing one rather than otherwise. - -“Well,” said Mr. Ross as they emerged into the High, “that’s an odd -sort of sermon, eh, Vicar?” - -Mr. Ross was a very sound lawyer, but he had not travelled much, nor -had he heard many sermons other than those of his friend the Vicar. The -Vicar smiled, and continued his explanations to Mrs. Ross of certain -allusions to Oxford celebrities made by the preacher. Frank also, to -whom his father appealed, had only a commonplace comment to make. His -studies not having been philosophical, he could not go into raptures -over every utterance of the new Plato. - -The church was even more crowded, if that were possible, in the -afternoon, in spite of the awkwardness of the hour (two o’clock) and -the heat of the day. And what an assemblage of famous men was present! -Gladstone and Tyndall, Lord Selborne and Huxley, Forster and Sir -Stafford Northcote, Sir William Harcourt and the Oxford Conservative -member, all sitting amicably side by side, listening to one of those -eloquent attacks on men of science which satisfy and please those for -whom they are not needed, and only amuse those whom they are intended -to convince. - -After the sermon the Vicar and Mr. Ross betook themselves to the -Union, to read the papers over a cup of coffee; and about a quarter -to five Frank started with his mother, sister, and Rose, to Magdalen -Chapel. Tickets had been, of course, difficult to get, and with all -his exertions he had only been able to secure two for the choir, and -two for the ante-chapel. The two former Mrs. Ross and Mary took, -without any resistance, for they knew that Rose would be happier to -be with Frank. How many husbands and wives come back in after-years -to Oxford, to go over again all the old days, to revisit all the old -spots, to find one particular tree the same, save, like themselves, a -little older; to sit in the same chapel, and listen perhaps to the very -same anthem they had listened to when they were boy and girl, sung by -different voices, but for them the same; to pass the same surly porter, -whose favour can only be purchased; to see the same placid gardener -tidying up the velvet grass under the grey walls; to hear the same -bells ringing; and, with it all, to feel as young as ever! - -Frank and Rose, as they sat in the dim ante-chapel, under the great -brown window that sheds such a strange light over all, thought neither -of the past, for that was eclipsed, nor of the future, for that was -uncertain, but just lived in the present. And if he did hold her hand -during most of the service, nobody saw him, and therefore nobody’s -feelings were outraged. - -Another happy pair emerged from another dim corner of the ante-chapel, -when the service was over--Crawford and the little lady, who doubtless -has not been forgotten, best known by the title “Blue-eyes.” She, too, -had in attendance on her a mother and sister; and they, too, had been -sitting in the choir. So that altogether, when the introductions took -place in the cloisters, all mentally agreed that the party was a most -symmetrical one--two mothers, two sisters, and two pairs of lovers. - -After dinner at their respective lodgings the two parties met in Grove -Street, and went to the Broad Walk to see and contribute to the show of -visitors. The Vicar pronounced a melancholy eulogium on the glories of -past Show Sundays, from which the present was a sad falling-off, caused -chiefly as he explained by the indiscriminate admission of the “Town,” -and the consequent absence of the “Gown” element. His hearers, however, -having no historic past with which to contrast the present, though they -listened submissively to his diatribes, enjoyed themselves immensely, -stared at everybody, wondered, and questioned. - -All the morning of Monday, Frank was engaged at a committee meeting -of the Masonic Fête, of which he was a steward: and as he and one or -two others were decidedly opposed to the general plan of disposal of -tickets, the meetings were not so peaceable as hitherto; he used to -return hot, tired, and annoyed. But Rose’s presence soon restored him -to his wonted equanimity. - -On Monday afternoon there was a concert given by the Philharmonic -Society in the Sheldonian Theatre, and after a hurried tea he took his -party to the river to see the procession of boats. He had tickets for -them for the ’Varsity barge, and having got them good seats at the -lower corner, next to the Brasenose barge, hurried off to his own barge -to put on his boating clothes. To Rose and Mary, who had never seen -any river-boat except the “tubs” at Porchester, the long slender craft -were objects of much wonder, and they thoroughly enjoyed the sight of -the many “Eights” and “Torpids” rowing up and saluting Paul’s, the head -boat, which lay close under the ’Varsity barge. The cox--a facetious -young gentleman--could not resist the pleasure of shouting every -few minutes, “Eyes in the boat!” as he caught the eyes of his crew -wandering to the many fair faces that were looking down at them from -beneath the awning. - -One by one the boats rowed up--it is to be feared not in the best -style, for the crews were for the most part mere “scratch” affairs got -together hurriedly for the procession, in the absence of the regular -men who had gone down. One by one they rowed up to the post opposite -to the ’Varsity barge, “easied,” and then, standing up, raised their -oars and saluted the head boat, “Well rowed, Paul’s!” to commemorate -the honour of the May races. Rose felt quite flattered, and took to -herself half the honour at least that was being given to Frank’s boat. -The proceeding repeated by some forty boats was growing somewhat -monotonous, when, to the intense delight and half-terror of the ladies, -one Eight upset--on purpose, of course; and there was much merriment -over the intentionally assumed danger and frantic efforts to get out of -the crowded water. When all the boats had saluted, they turned at Folly -Bridge (with what difficulty coxswains know to their cost), and dropped -down the stream to their respective barges. - -Those who embark on the festivities of Commemoration have not much time -to spend in dreaming. Rose would fain have gone down the river quietly -in the cool of the evening; and yet--and yet--the thoughts of dancing -were perhaps sweeter. - -Back to the town streamed the crowds: some to the Wadham concert; -some to rest before dressing for the University ball; many to summon -up their strength and energy for both. Among the latter were Mrs. Ross -and Mary, Rose and Frank. The fathers dined at Christ-Church, and spent -a cosy evening in the Common Room--the Vicar chatting away unceasingly -with old friends, and Mr. Ross making a very pleasant and amused -listener. - -It was a lovely evening, and most of the people walked to Wadham--one -of the many things that struck the country folks as strange and yet -pleasant. The concert was held in the College Hall, beautifully -decorated for the purpose. After the first part, every one adjourned -to the gardens, where refreshments were served in a large tent, and -then wandered about, enjoying the cool air till the second part began. -Frank and his party did not return to the Hall, but went to the Corn -Exchange, to the University ball. And what a night they had! He and -Rose forgot to count how many times they danced together. Mary had -partners in abundance, for Frank’s friends were there in great force; -and they were all longing for a dance with Rose, but had chiefly to -console themselves with Mary, for Frank could not spare many dances. -However, from Mary’s happy face, as they walked down the High in the -sweet early morning air, Frank inferred that the consoling process had -been not unpleasant for all parties concerned. - -Tuesday morning brought the much-needed rest, taken by some in chairs -at home, by others in punts on the river (Frank and Rose preferred the -latter). Tuesday afternoon--the flower-show held in the gardens of -New College. A Commemoration flower-show is more than a flower-show. -In fact, the flowers are almost the last thing regarded. Tuesday -evening--New College concert, always one of the best, and the Masonic -ball. Rose and Mary again in much request, but the former too deeply -engaged to Frank to be able to spare many dances. To this ball Mr. -Ross, being a Mason, went as a matter of course, and he even succeeded -in enticing the Vicar. The latter had a lurking love of vestments, -but Porchester gave him no encouragement; here, however, seeing the -aprons and scarves, and the cloaks of the Templars, he thought he -might satisfy his love. He would be a Mason, and though unable to -disport himself in picturesque attire to his congregation in church, he -might do so to his heart’s content to his brethren in the secrecy of -lodge-meetings, or the publicity of such a ball as this. So strongly -was he enamoured of the notion, that over supper, in a quiet corner -with Mr. and Mrs. Ross, he asked that gentleman to propose him for -election at a lodge in a town not far from Porchester, of which he was -Worshipful Master. - -Then came Wednesday, the day of Encænia, or Commemoration of the -Founders and Benefactors. Who that has ever been present in the crowded -Sheldonian Theatre can forget the scene? The jostling, pushing, -squeezing that begins before ten o’clock, though the proceedings -themselves seldom begin before noon; the pause and quiet, till the -boldest undergraduate starts the chaff; the grave faces of the -officials as they hand the ladies to their seats, half amused, half -angry, when told by some wag in the gallery “not to squeeze her -hand;” the cheers for everybody and everything that the occasion -suggests--“the ladies in pink,” “the ladies in blue,” “the ladies who -are engaged;” the groans for this statesman, the cheers for the other, -for the ’Varsity Boat Club, the ’Varsity Eleven, the popular Proctors. -Then the chaff becomes more personal. “When is the Vice-Chancellor -coming?” “Poor old man, he’s nervous.” “Has the Senior Proctor gone -to Aylesbury?” (alluding to the Christ-Church grinds and the Senior -Proctor’s failure). “_Dissolvimus hanc Convocationem_,” uttered in -imitation of the Vice-Chancellor, and causing much amusement among -the Masters of Arts and others familiar with the phrase. Just then a -very white-headed gentleman enters the area, and is met with shouts of -“White hat!” “Turn him out!” For a long time the object of the shouts -is perfectly oblivious. At length he puts on his hat, and is of course -greeted with “Hats off!” How long the uproar would have continued is -hard to say, had not a huge paper fool’s-cap, with D.C.L. written -on it, been let down from the gallery. The white-headed gentleman -blessed the circumstance. The cap fluttering downwards paused, either -by accident or design, exactly opposite one of the galleries where a -Master of Arts on duty as Proproctor for the occasion was standing, -and was waved gently within a few feet of his face. “Put it on, sir!” -now came from all sides of the upper gallery; and somebody leaning -from above the Vice-Chancellor’s chair, seizing the opportunity of a -second’s lull, said in a sedate voice, “_Admitto te ad gradum Doctoris -in jure civili_.” All this time the intended recipient of this most -dubious honour was making frantic clutches at the cap, which it is -needless to state was bobbed up and down in front of him, while “Let -him have it!” “He knows what fits him!” greeted his indignation, which -now scarcely knew bounds. He dashed upstairs to find the offender; -but, just as his head appeared, the cap dropped into the area, and -his efforts to discover the author of the offence were fruitless. The -entry of the Vice-Chancellor, followed by the Doctors and Proctors and -various distinguished visitors, and the pealing of the organ, turned -the thoughts of the undergraduates, and under cover of the music and -applause the irate Proproctor beat an ignominious retreat. His conduct -was not only unpopular among the undergraduates, but was condemned by -senior and junior graduates alike. - -The Vice-Chancellor, having taken his seat, opened Convocation with -the usual Latin speech. Dr. Bryce, Regius Professor of Civil Law, then -presented a number of distinguished men--bishops, judges, statesmen, -soldiers, poets, and historians--and in introducing each alluded in -brief Latin speeches to the peculiar merits that had called for the -honorary degree of D.C.L.--the highest honour which the University can -confer. After this the Creweian oration was delivered by the Public -Orator; but as he spoke in an indistinct voice, and in Latin, the -interesting allusions he made to past and present were scarcely even -heard, much less understood. He took the chaff hurled at him with -profound good humour, and ignoring the various injunctions to “Speak -up,” and “That will do, sir--now translate!” hurried bravely on, and -finished amid cheers of satisfaction. Then came the various prize -poems and essays, to none of which, except to the Newdigate, was the -slightest attention paid. But the Newdigate, though an exceptionally -good poem, was badly read, and most of the cheers were ironical--all -sorts of absurd constructions being at once fixed upon various lines. - -The Masonic Fête on Wednesday afternoon was very delightful, but they -were getting tired of the incessant gaiety; and so was the Magdalen -concert and Christ-Church ball on Wednesday night; but they had had -enough of concerts and enough of dancing, and all their energies and -interest were centred in Thursday morning, when Frank was to take his -degree--a far important event to Rose than the conferring of honorary -D.C.L. on all the bishops, judges, statesmen, and soldiers put together. - -It may be convenient here to enumerate roughly Frank’s expenses during -his three years’ academical career. It will be remembered that his -life has been that of an ordinary undergraduate. Its cost is therefore -considerably in excess of that of a great many. It is also considerably -below the level of comfort and luxury which in some cases folly -induces, and in others is justified by adequate means. He came to -Oxford not for intellectual advantages only, nor for social advantages -only, but for both. He wished to be neither a spendthrift nor a “smug,” -and he has been neither. - - COLLEGE EXPENSES. - - (_a_) First outlay - - £ _s._ _d._ £ _s._ _d._ - Caution money 30 0 0 - Furniture at a valuation 30 0 0 - Glass, china, &c. 9 19 6 - Cap and gown 1 2 6 - Books, sundries, and travelling expenses 10 0 0 - ----------- - £81 2 0 81 2 0 - ----------- - - (_b_) Terminal - - Tuition 7 7 0 - Establishment charges 6 0 0 - Room rent 3 10 0 - Battels, eight weeks, say at £2 16 0 0 - Coals, taking term with term 2 0 0 - Laundress 1 1 0 - ------------ - £35 18 0 - Gratuities to servants 2 0 0 - ------------ - £37 18 0×9[16]=341 2 0 - ------------ - - (_c_) On taking degree of B.A. 5 0 0 - - UNIVERSITY FEES. - - (_a_) Matriculation 2 10 0 - (_b_) Examination Fees - Responsions 1 0 0 - Moderations 1 10 0 - Rudiments of Faith and Religion 1 0 0 - Honour School of Jurisprudence 1 10 0 - (_c_) On taking degree of B.A. 7 10 0 15 0 0 - - EXTRA TUITION. - - “Coach” for Moderations 10 10 0 - Reading party to Switzerland 50 0 0 - “Coach” for Jurisprudence, - six terms, the College - paying half, 60 gs.--30 gs. 31 10 0 92 0 0 - - PERSONAL EXPENSES. - - Wines and groceries } - Clothes and travelling expenses } 70 0 0 - Books and stationery } For three years 210 0 0 - Subscriptions to clubs and societies } - - EXTRA ACADEMICAL. - - Inner Temple - Entrance form 1 1 0 - Stamps 25 1 3 - Fees 10 5 2 - Lecture fees 5 5 0 - ------------ - £41 12 5 41 12 5 - ------------ - Annual fees, four terms at 1 6 1 5 4 4 - -On Thursday morning, having paid to the Dean the necessary College -fee, and from him obtained a certificate of twelve terms’ residence, -Frank, duly attired in cap and gown, white tie, and the statutable -garments “of a subfusc hue,” proceeded to the Apodyterium of the -Convocation House. There he paid the University fee, and showed to the -Registrar the testamurs gained in Moderations and the Rudiments of -Faith and Religion, and a certificate of his having been placed in the -second class in the Honour School of Jurisprudence. - -These preliminaries over, he met his party and took them into the -Convocation House. There, having waited for half an hour, in a crowd -that made moving impossible, and speaking almost a difficulty, the -impatient spectators were informed that Convocation was removed to the -Sheldonian Theatre, a piece of information certainly welcome, but one -which they thought might have been given them before. - -Perhaps it need not be said that four hearts at least were filled -to overflowing as Frank went up with several other Paul’s men to be -presented by the Dean to the Vice-Chancellor, and at least one pair -of bright eyes shone the brighter for the tears that would rise up in -them. And then with what pride Frank slipped on his gown and tipped his -scout, William, the customary sovereign, and what a happy party sat -down to lunch in Paul’s! Crawford was there, the new Fellow of Queen’s, -not yet grown donnish and distant; and little Blue-eyes too was there, -who had made firm friends with Rose, with whom she talked with pride of -their two lovers. - -In the evening the young people went to Nuneham, Rose and Mary sitting -in the stern, Blue-eyes in the bows, where she paddled in the water -like a very child; Crawford and Frank rowing. Mary had brought her -sketching-book, and when they had had tea in the Moss Cottage, and a -stroll was proposed, nothing could induce her to accompany the others. -She wanted to sketch the rustic bridge and the river, and plenty of -time she found for the purpose. For surely never were folks so long -as Rose and Frank, Blue-eyes and Crawford, in walking through the -lovely Nuneham woods. Like the bright June leaves that hung over them, -life was young, and fresh, and bright; sobered, not saddened, by the -twilight of earnest thoughts of the work that lay before them. Oxford -had done her best for these two sons of hers; had not soured them; had -not robbed them of their early faith; had not taught them to posture as -the disciples of creeds as meaningless as they are cold and dead; had -not inflated them with the notion that Oxford thought leads England and -therefore the world; had not elated them with their academical success; -but was sending them forth full of energy and full of hope, with the -belief that life, that stern hard battle, was beginning and not ending -with the winning of a degree. - -THE END. - -LONDON: GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, ST. JOHN’S SQUARE. - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] The subjects at other colleges are much the same, but the standard -of excellence required varies. No. 2 is usually omitted. - -[2] At most colleges a reduction is made for scholars and exhibitioners. - -[3] At some colleges quarterly. - -[4] The titles given to the different Heads of Colleges vary. There -is the Warden of New College, the Provost of Oriel, the President of -Trinity, the Master of Balliol, the Principal of Brasenose, and the -Rector of Exeter. - -[5] College bills. - -[6] Responsions are obligatory on all except those who have passed -either the Previous Examination at Cambridge, or the Oxford and -Cambridge Schools’ Examination. There are five separate subjects -of examination, in each of which a candidate must satisfy the -Examiners (who, in this case, are called “Masters of the Schools”). -The principle of compensation is not recognized; failure in any -one subject rendering a candidate liable to a “pluck” (commonly -called “plough”). Subjects:--(1) Algebra: Addition, Subtraction, -Multiplication, Division, Greatest Common Measure, Least Common -Multiple, Fractions, Extraction of Square Root, Simple Equations -containing one or two unknown quantities, and problems producing such -Equations; or Geometry--such an amount as shall be equivalent to that -which is contained in Euclid I., II. (2) Arithmetic--the whole. (3) -Latin and Greek Grammar. (4) Translation from English into Latin prose; -it is sufficient if the Latin be grammatically written, without being -elegant in style; three or four violations of the simple rules of -Latin Syntax (commonly called “howlers”) will “plough” a candidate. -(5) One Greek and one Latin Author; candidates are free to offer any -standard classical authors, but the selection is usually made from the -following list:--Homer: any five consecutive books; Æschylus: any two -of the following plays--Agamemnon, Choephoræ, Eumenides, Prometheus -Vinctus, Septem contra Thebas. Sophocles: any two plays. Euripides: -any two of the following--Hecuba, Medea, Alcestis, Orestes, Phœnissæ, -Hippolytus, Bacchæ. Aristophanes: any two of the following--Nubes, -Ranæ, Acharnenses. Thucydides: any two consecutive books. Xenophon: -Anabasis, any four consecutive hooks. Æschines: In Ctesiphontem. -Virgil: (1) the Bucolics, with any three consecutive books of the -Æneid; or (2) the Georgics; or (3) any five consecutive books of -the Æneid. Horace: (1) any three books of the Odes, together with a -book of the Satires, or of the Epistles, or the Ars Poetica; or (2) -the Satires with the Ars Poetica; or (3) the Epistles with the Ars -Poetica. Juvenal: the whole except Satires II., VI., IX. Livy: any two -consecutive books, taken either from Books I.-V., or Books XXI.-XXV. -Cæsar: De Bello Gallico, any four consecutive books. Sallust: Bellum -Catilinarium, and Jugurthinum. Cicero: (1) the first three Philippics; -or (2) De Senectute and De Amicitia; or (3) four Catiline orations, -with the oration Pro Archia. The books most commonly chosen are -Euripides,--Hecuba, and Alcestis; and one of the combinations in Virgil -or Horace. - -[7] Moderations or First Public Examination will be explained in due -course. - -[8] Turl Street. High Street is “the High;” Broad Street, “the Broad,” -in Oxford vernacular. - -[9] The new Debating Hall, now (October) almost complete, will provide -ample accommodation for visitors. - -[10] Now--_O tempora! O mores!_--defunct. - -[11] The customary fee for a term’s private tuition, consisting of -three lessons weekly, of one hour each. - -[12] Steeplechases. - -[13] Affectionate abbreviation for Slapoffski, unrivalled in Oxford, -and not unknown outside. - -[14] Senior Students at Christ-Church correspond to Fellows at other -Colleges. - -[15] _I.e._ races for sculling-boats and pair-oars. - -[16] Three years contain twelve legal terms, but only nine of payment, -the Easter and Act terms being virtually one in matter of residence. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Oxford Days, by Frederic Edward Weatherly - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OXFORD DAYS *** - -***** This file should be named 50618-0.txt or 50618-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/6/1/50618/ - -Produced by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet -Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Oxford Days - or How Ross Got His Degree - -Author: Frederic Edward Weatherly - -Release Date: December 5, 2015 [EBook #50618] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OXFORD DAYS *** - - - - -Produced by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet -Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p class="titlepage larger">OXFORD DAYS;<br /> -<span class="smaller">OR,</span><br /> -HOW ROSS GOT HIS DEGREE.</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smcap">By</span> A RESIDENT M.A.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">London:<br /> -SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON,<br /> -CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.<br /> -1879.<br /> -[<i>All rights reserved.</i>]</p> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON:<br /> -GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS,<br /> -ST. JOHN’S SQUARE.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>PREFACE.</h2> - -<p>“Oxford Days” is not shaped on the lines of -either <i>Verdant Green</i> or <i>Tom Brown at Oxford</i>. -Its purpose, rather, is to furnish a practical guide -to all the features of University life; but it has -been thought that, by adopting the narrative -form, the dry bones of a handbook may be made -to live.</p> - -<p class="smaller"><i>Oxford</i>, 1879.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td></td><td class="tdr smaller">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Gone to Oxford</span></td><td class="tdr">1</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">An Oxford Sunday</span></td><td class="tdr">23</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Freshman’s Term</span></td><td class="tdr">39</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Eights</span></td><td class="tdr">51</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Long Vacation</span></td><td class="tdr">68</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“<span class="smcap">The Flying Terms</span>”</td><td class="tdr">77</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">A Reading Party</span></td><td class="tdr">88</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">In the Thick of it</span></td><td class="tdr">120</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Close</span></td><td class="tdr">139</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Gown at Last</span></td><td class="tdr">149</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<h1>OXFORD DAYS;<br /> -<span class="smaller">OR,</span><br /> -HOW ROSS GOT HIS DEGREE.</h1> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /> -<span class="smaller">GONE TO OXFORD.</span></h2> - -<p>There was a long discussion between the Vicar -of Porchester and Mr. Ross, the lawyer, as they -walked together after evening service to the -vicarage. Frank Ross was just eighteen, the -eldest of six brothers. He was still at school, -but it was time for him to go to the University. -Oxford had been chosen—not from any notion of -superiority to Cambridge, but simply because of -school and home associations. The difficulty was -the choice of a college. The vicar—a well-to-do -bachelor—an old Eton and Christ-Church man, -advised his own college. But Mr. Ross was -frightened. “Christ-Church” to him had ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -been a terror, and meant waste of time and money, -in the shape of cards, drink, and horse-flesh; and -all the vicar’s eloquence could not shake his unfounded -prejudice. The result of the discussion -was that Mr. Ross decided to write to a friend at -Oxford, settled there as a “coach;” and also to -Mr. Rickards, a country doctor, with a family -larger even than his own. The doctor’s answer -was as follows:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Ross</span>,—My boy is going to Brasenose: at least, -he goes up in May to try for a close scholarship. I can -give you no advice, as I know nothing about the place. I -sent him to the Hereford Cathedral School by a fluke some -years ago; and as there are scholarships and exhibitions -from the school to Brasenose, I am saved the difficulty of -choosing a college.</p> - -<p class="sig">“Yours truly,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">W. Rickards</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The vicar explained that a “close” scholarship -was, like other scholarships, a sum of money paid -annually for four or five years as a prize, but -differed from them in being confined to competition -among boys from certain schools; and that -the value of them varied from 45<i>l.</i> to 80<i>l.</i> per -annum, part being paid in money, and part -made up in allowances in the way of diminished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -fees. The letter from the “coach” was more -valuable:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Ross</span>,—So much depends on your son’s -abilities, your own means and wishes, that I cannot answer -your question as to the best college, off-hand. I think I -may assume that you do not want him to spend more money -than is absolutely necessary; and possibly that you would -wish him to ‘go in for honours’ instead of taking a Pass -Degree, that is, offering the smallest possible number of -subjects for examination. I need hardly say that a high -degree in honours opens the way to a Fellowship, or at any -rate to good masterships in schools; and is, in fact, a distinct -help, directly and indirectly, not only in educational, -but in all professions.</p> - -<p>“It is far better for a lad to go to a good college, even -though he is unable to obtain a scholarship or any other -college endowment, than to go to an inferior college, where -he may succeed in getting pecuniary assistance. To illustrate -what I mean: I believe, in the long run, it would be wiser -to send your son as a commoner to Balliol than as a scholar -to Wadham. If, from a pecuniary point of view, you do -not care for him to get a scholarship, nor want him to read -for honours, and are not particular as to whether he spends -300<i>l.</i> or 500<i>l.</i> a year (or even more), I should send him to -Christ-Church, Brasenose, Exeter, or University. The first -two especially were in my day emphatically popular colleges, -and I believe are so still. But I would not send him to -either unless you are fully prepared for the amount of -expenditure which I have named. Possibly you might like -our only denominational college—Keble. He would be most -carefully looked after in every way, and his expenses kept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -within a fixed limit. The Warden and Tutors devote their -whole energies to their men, and the men themselves speak -in the most affectionate terms of them—a most exceptional -fact, I assure you. But I must warn you that the religious -tone of the college is distinctly pronounced, and inclines to -ritualistic rather than to evangelical doctrines.</p> - -<p>“If your son’s college life will be a pinch to you (you -will allow me to speak thus plainly on such a question), -send him as an Unattached Student. But here, again, you -and he should clearly understand that the life of an unattached -student is isolated, and quite unlike the life of the -college undergraduate. The only exception to this statement -is when an undergraduate migrates, as for various -reasons sometimes he is obliged, from his college to the -body of the Unattached. His society, being already formed, -remains unbroken. I should fancy your choice will lie -between New College, Corpus, Paul’s, and Balliol. A -scholarship at either means that the scholar is capable, with -industry, of gaining the highest honours in his future -University examinations. On the whole, I think, I incline -to Paul’s. Unfortunately, you have just missed the examination -for scholarships. There is, however, an ordinary -matriculation examination for commoners in about three -weeks’ time. If your son holds a good position in his -school, he ought to have no difficulty in passing even at this -short notice, for the subjects are those which are read in -forms lower than the highest at all schools. I shall be -happy to do anything further in the matter for you that I -can. He should come prepared for residence, in the event of -his passing. The examination begins on the Wednesday -after Easter, and will be over in time for successful candidates -to ‘come into residence’ with the other men on the following<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -Saturday. You should send an application to the Master of -Paul’s at once. I enclose a list of subjects and fees, and am</p> - -<p class="sig">“Yours truly,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Philip Wodehouse</span>.”</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">Subjects for Matriculation at Paul’s.</span><a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>“1. Translation from English into Latin prose.</p> - -<p>“2. Translation into English of an unprepared passage of -Attic Greek.</p> - -<p>“3. Translation of some portion of a Greek and Latin -author (to be selected by the candidate), with parsing and -general grammar questions.</p> - -<p>“4. Arithmetic, including Vulgar and Decimal Fractions -and Interest.</p> - -<p>“5. Euclid, Books I. and II.; <i>or</i> Algebra, to Simple -Equations.</p> - -<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">Fees.</span></p> - -<p>“(<i>a</i>) To the University at Matriculation 2<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>“(<i>b</i>) To the College, as caution-money 30<i>l.</i><a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -“Room-rent varies from 10<i>l.</i> to 16<i>l.</i> per annum. This -does not include furniture, which must be taken at a valuation -from the previous tenant; 25<i>l.</i> is an average valuation-price. -China, glass, linen, plate, and household necessaries must all -be procured. It is wiser to bring plate and linen. The -rest may be purchased from the ‘scout’ (servant) apportioned -to the rooms. For this, say 10<i>l.</i> The immediate payments, -therefore, amount to 2<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i> + 30<i>l.</i> + 10<i>l.</i> = 42<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i> -The payment for the furniture must be made early in term; -and the establishment charges, tuition fees, expenses of -board and rent, are paid terminally.”<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<p>So Paul’s was chosen, and a letter of application -forwarded to the Master;<a name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> and Frank, who -was then at home for the Easter vacation, commenced -polishing up his work in view of the -approaching examination. On Easter Tuesday -he left home by an early train, with a note to -Mr. Wodehouse in his pocket. That gentleman -entertained him at dinner with a long list of -examination stories, and about nine o’clock -marched him off to the Clarendon Hotel, where, -with a word to the landlady, he left him, nervous -at the thought of the morrow, but conscious of -his own dignity and the near approach of the -manhood which is supposed to date from matriculation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was with some difficulty that Frank preserved -his self-composure in the presence of the waiters, -as he sat at breakfast in the “Clarendon” coffee-room. -He did not particularly enjoy his meal, -and, in obedience to Mr. Wodehouse’s injunctions, -left at half-past nine to make his way to Paul’s. -After one or two mistakes, he succeeded in finding -the college gates. His anxiety as to his next -step was set at rest by the sight that met him. -About a dozen boys (to be called men after -matriculation) were hanging about the Lodge, in -various typical conditions of mind and body—some -completely at their ease, chatting unconcernedly; -others standing nervously alone. Most -wore black coats and chimney-pot hats—the -costume that only a few years ago was rigorously -insisted on. A few through ignorance, or in -obedience to the spirit of the day, wore defiantly -light suits and bowler hats. Frank, to his great -delight, found a school-fellow whose coming up -had, like his own, been hurriedly decided in the -vacation. The two friends had not much time -for conversation, for in a few minutes a respectable -middle-aged man, whom they knew afterwards -to be the Porter, said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> “You are to walk -this way, gentlemen, please,” and conducted them -to the College-Hall. It is a fine old place, with -dark oak panels, coloured windows, portraits, and -coats-of-arms; and to the boy up in Oxford for -his first visit, and that visit so solemn a one as -matriculation, there is an unspeakable charm, and -a novelty sobered into grandeur, about everything. -How the grave faces of the college founders and -celebrities looked down upon the wondering eyes! -Bishop and knight, king and duchess—there -they stared! How the light streamed through -the coloured windows! Who could tell? Perhaps -one day, Frank thought, when he was a -rich man, he might have that one vacant window -filled, or some of his descendants might -present to the college a portrait of Sir Francis -Ross, attired in wig and gown, one of Her -Majesty’s—or rather, perhaps, His Majesty’s—judges, -if not Lord Chancellor.</p> - -<p>He started abruptly from his dreams, and came -back to the first rung on the ladder that was -leading to such prospective fame. There before -him stretched three lines of tables and benches -down the length of the hall. Across the end, on -a slightly-raised daïs, ran another table, where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -the handsome chairs indicated beings superior to -undergraduates. It was, in fact, the High table, -where the Master and Fellows dined, and any -resident Masters of Arts who cared to do so.</p> - -<p>This morning it was devoted to the more -serious purposes of examination. Ten ink-bottles, -fifteen blotting-pads, fifteen sheets of white paper -printed, with a few sheets of blue paper and two -or three quill pens lying by each: that was the -fare this morning—“the feast of reason” that -was in such strong contrast to the “flow of soul” -that would grace the table at six o’clock that -evening.</p> - -<p>One of the junior Fellows was in charge of the -examination. He was reading the <i>Times</i> as Frank -and his companions entered, sitting on the table, -with his legs dangling in a graceful attitude of -studied negligence. He took no notice of the -victims, till the Porter had conducted them to the -table and motioned them to take seats. Then he -looked up from his newspaper and said,—</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> -<p>“You will have till half-past twelve. Write -your names clearly; and please bear in mind -that we expect answers from both books of -Euclid.”</p> - -<p>Then he resumed his newspaper and adopted a -more dignified attitude.</p> - -<p>Frank looked at his questions. Eleven in all; -some definitions, six propositions from the first -book, and four from the second. He wrote his -name at the head of his paper, and made a great -blot in doing so. His hand grew hot. He dashed -at the first definition,—</p> - -<p>“<i>A circle is a plane figure contained in one -straight line.</i>”</p> - -<p>His pen spluttered warningly at the word -<i>straight</i>. A blot fell, and fell luckily on the fatal -word. He tore up the paper and commenced -again.</p> - -<p>Making a good start, his hands grew cool, his -head calm; and with the old portraits beaming -upon him, away he wrote. He completed the -six propositions of the first book; then, pausing -for breath, saw that almost everybody else had -his watch on the table. Frank pulled out his. -<i>A quarter to twelve!</i> He had blundered, he knew. -He ought to have timed himself, and left more -time for the second book. However, his success -had put him at his ease, for he knew all the propositions -well so far; and he buckled-to vigorously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -By hard writing he managed to do three propositions. -The last was the thirteenth. He knew -he could not do it in five minutes, and he must -allow himself time to read over his work. He -had barely done even this when the papers were -collected, and they were dismissed, with instructions -to appear again at two.</p> - -<p>Frank went out with his friend, discussing the -Euclid paper.</p> - -<p>They lunched together at the “Clarendon,” -wisely confining themselves to a little cold meat -and sherry, and at two o’clock were again hard -at work at Latin prose. It was a piece from -“Pilgrim’s Progress”—something about Giant -Despair, his wife, and her bed. And judging -from the various unhappy faces, an observer might -have thought that the choice of the giant was -somewhat prophetical. Frank, however, had -done, not the identical piece, but several pieces in -the same style before, and accordingly did not -find so much difficulty.</p> - -<p>Out at four o’clock, they strolled down Oriel -Street, past Corpus, by Merton Church, and into -Christ-Church Broad Walk; and meeting three -friends, also up for matriculation at some other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -college, took a boat from Salter’s and rowed to -Iffley, Frank steering.</p> - -<p>Luckily the river was not crowded, as in full -term, or the erratic course which Frank steered -would have brought down upon him the shrill -abuse of some eight-oar’s coxswain, even if not -a quiet spill into the water.</p> - -<p>Thursday passed much in the same way: Frank, -on the whole, satisfied with his work; Monkton, -his friend, somewhat desponding. The hours -after work would have been dull had there not -been so much to see. The friends mooned about -till half-past six, and then had meat-tea at Monkton’s -lodgings in Ship Street; and with “Verdant -Green” and the “Mysteries of the Isis” beguiled -the evening till they turned into bed. What a -relief it was when Friday morning came, and with -it the last paper! At two that afternoon they -were met in the Lodge by the Porter, who had an -important-looking paper in his hands.</p> - -<p>“Please to wait a moment, gentlemen,” he said, -as all the candidates were hurrying off across the -quadrangle to the hall; “these are the gentlemen -that are to go for <i>vivâ voce</i>.” And he proceeded -to read out six names, among which Frank and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -Monkton, to their great delight, heard their own. -They hardly thought of the disconsolate nine who, -hearing the last name on the list, hopelessly -oozed one by one out at the Lodge-gates.</p> - -<p>Reaching the hall, the chosen six found the -Master and six of the Fellows, all attired in cap, -gown, and dignity, seated at the High table. -They were told to sit down at one side of the hall, -and then, one by one, were summoned to that -awful table and examined. Monkton’s ordeal -came first, and it was a trying one. He was first -questioned (very sharply, as it seemed to Frank) -on some of his papers, and then given some written -questions and sent to a side table. Frank was -not aware, then, that this process—familiarly -known as “second paper”—meant that Monkton’s -success hung by a thread on the result of -his work this afternoon. His own turn came -next. The Fellow who examined him saw he was -nervous, and, as usual with almost every examiner, -spoke pleasantly and reassuringly to him.</p> - -<p>“Take your Greek Testament, Mr. Ross,” he -said, “and turn to the fifth chapter of St. Matthew, -and translate the first six verses.”</p> - -<p>Frank turned to the passage indicated. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -knew it at a glance, and that reassured him; and -when he was next told to open a “Cicero” that -was lying on the table he felt comparatively at -his ease. He got through about six lines of the -Second Philippic, and was then asked a few disconnected -questions.</p> - -<p>“Do you know what circumstances led to the -delivery of this speech?”</p> - -<p>He did know, but words failed him, and he -bungled.</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” answered the examiner. “Who -was Hannibal? and what battles did he fight?”</p> - -<p>Frank answered, naming them.</p> - -<p>“What is the construction after verbs of commanding -in Latin?”</p> - -<p>“Can you mention any of our Lord’s parables -which teach the duty of watchfulness?” and so -forth.</p> - -<p>Then came the pleasant dismissal,—</p> - -<p>“That will do, thank you. You need not -wait.”</p> - -<p>Frank departed, and, making friends with the -Porter, told him all that had passed.</p> - -<p>“Ah! you’re all right, sir,” said George; and -George’s statement proved true.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> - -<p>In about three-quarters of an hour the Master -and Fellows came out of the hall and dispersed -to their respective rooms, and presently George -appeared with a piece of blue paper, which he -nailed on the gate. Five names—Frank’s second, -and Monkton’s absent.</p> - -<p>“Those gentlemen that mean to reside this -term,” said George, “are to call on the Dean -between five and six this evening, and bring their -fees. Those that don’t are to leave Oxford at -once, and notice will be sent to them in the Long -Vacation before next term begins.”</p> - -<p>Frank meant to reside, and was one of the -first to call on the Dean. That gentleman received -him courteously; told him he had done very -fairly in the examination; hoped he would read -hard and be steady; asked him his name, age, -father’s name, residence, and profession, and -various other particulars, all of which he entered -in a book; received his caution-money (30<i>l.</i>), and -told him to ask the Porter the staircase and -number of the rooms allotted to him.</p> - -<p>“Be here,” he added, as Frank was leaving,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -“at a quarter to ten to-morrow morning, that I -may take you before the Vice-Chancellor.”</p> - -<p>At the Porter’s advice, Frank took a cab and -drove to the “Clarendon,” paid his bill, got his -luggage together, and drove back to college. -By this time the Porter had the list of the newly-allotted -rooms.</p> - -<p>“Yours are No. 5, sir, three-pair right.”</p> - -<p>Frank stared.</p> - -<p>“No. 5 over the doorway, sir,” he then explained, -pointing across the quadrangle to a doorway, -over which Frank discerned the wished-for -number; “three flights o’ stairs; the rooms on -the right hand. No. 5, three-pair right—that’s -how we call it. You’ll find your scout there. -You’re too late for dinner. The hall-bell went -twenty minutes ago.”</p> - -<p>Frank crossed the quadrangle, climbed the -stairs, and found his rooms. They were neither -large, nor particularly clean, as regarded paper -and paint; and the carpets and coverings were -decidedly dingy. But they were <i>his</i> rooms, and -he was an Oxford man! and that was <i>his</i> scout -bustling in from the rooms opposite to welcome -him. After a little conversation, the fact of his -ownership became still more apparent, for the -scout proceeded to show him a collection of glass<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -and china and household implements, on the -merits and absolute necessity of which he enlarged. -The mere transfer of glass and china supplies a -nice little addition to the scout’s perquisites. -The articles are, in the first instance, purchased -by some undergraduate who prefers his own -choice to what his scout has ready to offer him. -He, on leaving his rooms, bequeaths them to -his scout. Custom is so tyrannical in Oxford. -The scout sells the articles to the next tenant, -who, in his turn, bequeaths them to the same -willing legatee, when again they are sold to -the new-comer. How long this goes on it is -hard to say. Sometimes the smooth course -is interrupted by some strong-minded undergraduate, -who, ignoring custom, takes his effects -with him when he leaves. The little bill was as -follows:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Frank Ross, Esq.</span>, <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">William Green</span>.</p> - -<table summary="Frank's bill from his scout"> - <tr> - <th></th><th class="tdr">£</th><th class="tdr"><i>s.</i></th><th class="tdr"><i>d.</i></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>3 Cut-glass Decanters</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Claret Jug</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>3 dozen Wine-glasses (mixed)</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>8 Tumblers</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">9</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>A Dessert Set</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">18</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>15 Dinner Plates</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">13</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>7 Cheese Plates</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Tea Set, consisting of Milk Jug, Sugar Basin, Bowl, 8 Breakfast Cups, 6 Tea Cups, 9 Plates (all mixed)</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Metal Tea-pot</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">7</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Broom</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">8</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Dustpan and Brush</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">3</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>6 Dusters</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">6</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>6 Tea-cloths</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">6</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td><td class="tdr total">£9</td><td class="tdr total">19</td><td class="tdr total">6</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>Shortly afterwards, as Frank was unpacking, a -youth of most obsequious manners arrived, carrying -a cap and gown for the Freshman, who received -them with a murmur of gratified pleasure, -making no inquiries about the cost or who had -given the order; considering that, of course, what -was thus sent must be <i>en règle</i>. The bill arrived -within a week, with a polite intimation that payment -was not requested, and an invitation to -inspect the stock of the obliging tailors.</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Frank Ross, Esq.</span>, <i>to</i> Cutter and Co.</p> - -<table summary="Frank's bill at the tailors" class="small"> - <tr> - <th></th><th></th><th class="tdr"><i>s.</i></th><th class="tdr"><i>d.</i></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>A College Cap</td><td></td><td class="tdr">7</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>A Commoner’s Gown</td><td></td><td class="tdr">15</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td><td class="tdr total">£1</td><td class="tdr total">2</td><td class="tdr total">6</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - -<p>Three years later, when pressed by duns and -threatened with proceedings in the Vice-Chancellor’s -Court, Frank remembered these gentle -disclaimers of any wish for payment.</p> - -<p>What with talking to his scout and unpacking, -nine o’clock soon arrived: the hour when the -kitchen and buttery were opened for supper. -William suggested that his master would like some -supper, and in a short time supper was brought.</p> - -<p>“I shan’t eat all that,” expostulated Frank, -when he saw the plateful of meat and lumps of -bread and butter.</p> - -<p>“Only one ‘commons,’ sir,” replied William.</p> - -<p>Frank said nothing, but saw distinctly that the -standard called “one commons,” for which his -father would have to pay daily through his three -or four years, was based on the principle that -“what is ordered for one should be enough for -two.” However, he enjoyed his supper; and so -did the scout, who carried home his share, with -similar portions from the other six rooms on the -staircase to which it was his duty to attend.</p> - -<p>The following morning, duly attired in cap and -gown, with white tie and black coat at William’s -suggestion, Frank betook himself to the Dean’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -rooms. There he met the four other Freshmen -who had “passed” with him, was asked if he had -his fee ready, and then conducted in a sheepish, -silent procession, headed by the Dean, to the -Vice-Chancellor. There were several groups of -Freshmen standing with their respective Deans, -Vice-Principals, or other college officials. Then -they were all told to write their names in a book -in Latin—a novel though not difficult feat, which -Frank, with the assistance of his Dean, accomplished.</p> - -<p>“Ross, Franciscus, filius Armigeri, è collegio -S. Pauli.”</p> - -<p>He then handed in his fee, 2<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i>, and received -in return a little piece of blue paper, the certificate -of matriculation, together with a copy of the -University statutes. The Vice-Chancellor addressed -them all in a short Latin formula; and -when this was over, Frank had time to read the -document, which ran thus:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right">“Term. Pasch.<br /> -“Oxoniæ, die Ap. 27mo, Anno Domini 187—.</p> - -<p>“Quo die comparuit coram me Franciscus Ross, è Coll. -S. Pauli, Arm. Fil. et admonitus est de observandis statutis -hujus Universitatis et in matriculam Universitatis relatus est.</p> - -<p class="right">“——, Vice-Can.”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<p>He was now fully matriculated, and amenable -to all the details of University discipline. At -six o’clock he dined in Hall—his first dinner—not -without the usual blunder of seating himself -at a table appropriated to undergraduates at least -two years his seniors; and at eight went to chapel—the -hour being changed on first nights in term -from half-past five to eight, to enable men from -distant homes to put in an appearance. The -chapel was very much crowded, Paul’s having -considerably outgrown its accommodation; but it -was only on first nights that the inconvenience -was felt, for as it was not necessary to attend -service more than four times in the week, all the -men were never there together.</p> - -<p>Coming out, he met several old school-fellows, -and the senior of them carried them all off to -his lodgings in Holywell Street, where over wine -and pipes they sat chatting till past ten o’clock; -Frank, for the most part, listening without saying -much, for he was but a Freshman, and this his -first pipe.</p> - -<p>When he got back to Paul’s he found the gates -locked; but as he had read “Verdant Green” -very carefully, he did not think it necessary to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -apologize to George for giving him the trouble of -opening. He knew that “knocking in” before -eleven o’clock only meant twopence in his weekly -“battels.”<a name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> - -<p>That night, when he got into bed, though he -did not feel quite a “man,” he felt conscious of -having undergone some considerable change since -he left home on Tuesday morning.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /> -<span class="smaller">AN OXFORD SUNDAY.</span></h2> - -<p>On Sunday morning he woke to the words that, -without the slightest variation in time or tone of -delivery, called him daily for the three years that -he resided in college—“Half-past seven, sir! -Do you breakfast in?”</p> - -<p>This was the scout’s gentle hint that chapel -service was within half an hour, and his form of -inquiry whether his young master intended breakfasting -in his own rooms or was going elsewhere -for the meal.</p> - -<p>Frank, when he fully realized the meaning, -answered “Yes,” and with a freshman’s energy -jumped out of bed, and was dressed before the -chapel bell began to ring. Hurrying down-stairs, -in fear of being late, he was stopped by William, -with the suggestion that there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> “no call to -go yet, till the bell began to swear!”</p> - -<p>This elegant expression, Frank learnt, is -applied to the quickened and louder ringing of -the bell for the five minutes immediately preceding -service. He found, not many days after, -that it was quite possible, by the aid of an -Ulster, and postponement of ablutions, to get -to chapel in time if he slept till the “swearing” -began.</p> - -<p>There were not so many men present as on the -previous evening. The Master and Fellows wore -surplices and hoods; the Scholars, being undergraduates, -surplices and no hoods; the commoners, -black gowns. The few—apparently -senior men—who wore black gowns of longer and -ampler make than the commoners, were the -Bachelors and Masters of Arts, still “in residence,” -but not on the foundation—<i>i.e.</i>, neither -Fellows nor Scholars, and therefore not entitled -to wear surplices. This was the strict order for -Sundays, and other high days; on other days -every one wore the black gown of his respective -degree, with the single exception of the Fellow -who did chaplain’s duty for the week; for at -Paul’s there was no permanent chaplain. The -first lesson was read by one of the Scholars, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -second by one of the Fellows, the prayers by the -chaplain, the Communion Service by the Master. -There was no sermon; the intention being that -each undergraduate should attend “prayers” in -his own particular college-chapel, and afterwards -hear a sermon preached in the University-church -to the members of the University in common. -The list of those who attend chapel is kept at -Paul’s by the Bible-clerk, at some colleges by the -chapel-porter. The Bible-clerk’s further duties -are to find the lessons, to read them in the possible -absence of the proper person, and to say grace in -Hall.</p> - -<p>A man may lose caste by becoming a Bible-clerk, -but it is by no means necessary that he -should. A cad (and there are many at Oxford) -distinctly degrades the post, and makes it -shunned. A man wavering between good sets -and bad sets may possibly lose what little footing -he has in the former. But a thorough gentleman -(it seems hardly necessary to say so, except to -disabuse many of their prejudices) need not, and -does not in the slightest degree, lower himself by -holding such a position. The emoluments -amount (in money and allowances) often to 80<i>l.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -per annum; at Paul’s, 75<i>l.</i>; but what makes the -post so especially valuable, from a pecuniary -point of view, is that it can be held with a -Scholarship and an Exhibition. The Bible-clerk -at Paul’s during Frank’s first two years was -holding a Scholarship of the value of 60<i>l.</i>, an -Exhibition from his school of the value of 50<i>l.</i>; -so that, with his clerkship of 75<i>l.</i>, his income -amounted to 185<i>l.</i>, for the academical year of six -months. And he was one of the most popular men -in the college.</p> - -<p>From him Frank learnt that he would have to -read the first lesson in chapel for six consecutive -days in his turn; but that, being a freshman, -his turn would not come for some time yet.</p> - -<p>On returning to his rooms he found his breakfast -laid, the kettle simmering, and letters lying -on the table; one from home; the rest, the -circulars that flatter the freshman’s dignity, and -coax him into becoming a customer.</p> - -<p>The foundation breakfast consists of bread, -butter, and milk, and in some colleges two eggs. -These articles are brought by the scouts from the -buttery, and entered by the buttery-clerk to the -respective undergraduates. The bread, butter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -and milk are distributed in “commons,” the rate -charged being above that of tradesmen outside -college, and the quantity being, in the case of -most men, certainly too much for one meal. The -remains belong to the scout.</p> - -<p>Fish, poultry, meat (and for luncheon, pastry), -are supplied from the kitchen. For some items -the charges are reasonable, for others exorbitant. -Naturally, therefore, it is in “kitchen-orders” -that the careful student can economize, if only he -can stand against the Oxford custom, fostered by -the scouts, of ordering too much. For at least -three days in the week the two customary eggs, -with bread and butter, are surely enough for -breakfast, a kitchen-order being thereby avoided. -The too common habit, however, is to discard the -eggs (paid for, it must be remembered, whether -eaten or not), and eat meat. It is quite conceivable -that, after one breakfast on one staircase -where eight men live, the scout may put into his -basket sixteen eggs.</p> - -<p>Tea, coffee, chocolate, cocoa, sugar, and so on, -are in some colleges procurable from the Common-room-stores, -an establishment resembling an -Italian warehouse and wine-and-spirit-vault combined.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -Custom, if not college regulations, will -compel the undergraduate to deal with the -Common-room-man.</p> - -<p>At Paul’s there is no such establishment, but -William very kindly supplied the deficiency by -ordering in, from one of the nearest—and dearest—grocers, -a good stock of tea (at 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> per -pound, of course), coffee, candles, matches, -scented soap, biscuits, jam, marmalade, till Frank -was quite bewildered at the thought of the room -necessary for storing these delicacies. However, -they did not last long.</p> - -<p>One of the most iniquitous and yet plausible -practices is that pursued at some colleges—Paul’s -among the number—of compelling undergraduates -to deal at certain shops.</p> - -<p>Anything in the way of paper, paint, or furniture, -has to be procured at one of the shops -attached to the college. These are invariably the -dearest, charging for their goods 25 and 30 per -cent. more than the many other establishments -which struggle against these monopolies.</p> - -<p>The reason given by the college authorities for -this system is that they are obliged to exercise -some principle of selection of the workmen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -allowed within the college walls, indiscriminate -admission being open to risk. The reason is -plausible enough, but it is based entirely on the -supposition that the workmen employed by expensive -firms alone are honest. Further, what -risk could there be in the conveyance of a piece -of furniture to the college gates, when its removal -to the rooms of the purchaser would be the work -of the college servants?</p> - -<p>The only method of avoiding the tyranny of the -system is to employ one of the railway carriers. -The college porter, on the presumption that the -article has come by rail from the undergraduate’s -home, is obliged to admit it.</p> - -<p>Anything like opposition to the regulation -appears at present to be useless. One daring -undergraduate at Paul’s, who ventured to remonstrate -with his college dean (the authority -in such matters), was met with this characteristic -answer:—“It is our system. If you don’t like -it, the college gates are open. You can remove -your name from the college books. We won’t -detain you.”—an answer perfectly admissible -from the proprietor of any establishment, but -insolent and unwarrantable from one who, after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -all, is but an administrator in a corporate institution.</p> - -<p>And so it would be possible to go on and -enumerate many instances in which not only -custom among his companions, but college regulations -compel the undergraduate to be extravagant -and wasteful. Homes are crippled, younger -brothers and sisters deprived of the education -which is their due, and the much-vaunted -University extension limited by the very administration -of the bodies that ought, and do profess, -to foster it. Questions of domestic economy are -ignored by the various commissions, though they -lie at the very root of University extension. Let -additional Scholarships be founded to enable more -students to come to the University; let additional -teaching power be endowed with professorships, -lectureships, and readerships, by all means; but -let perquisites be pruned down; let the enormous -profits of catering cooks and butlers be decreased; -let room-rent be lowered; let “servants’ dues” -pay the servants, and not need to be supplemented -by charges which never appear in the college -accounts; let trade be free in the town; let every -man buy where he pleases; that is the way to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -extend the benefits of University education—that -is the way to enable those to profit by it who are -at present debarred—that is the way to enable -families, which now struggle to send one son to -the University, to send two for an equivalent outlay. -There can be no doubt of the unnecessary -waste and extravagance in the domestic economy -of the colleges when it is remembered -that though collegiate life, based as it is on communistic -principles, ought to be cheaper than any -other form of student life, as a matter of fact it -is considerably more expensive.</p> - -<p>To return to Frank’s breakfast. He found -some difficulty in boiling his eggs and making -his tea. But he concealed his ignorance and ate -the eggs, and drank his tea like dish-water.</p> - -<p>About a quarter to ten some one banged at his -door, and entered with the bang. The visitor -was Crawford, of Brasenose, an old school-fellow -of Frank’s, who had gone up about three years -previously.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, young man! not finished breakfast -yet!”</p> - -<p>His cheery greeting was delightful to Frank, -who felt he had in him a true friend.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> - -<p>A man about three years senior to a freshman—what -a power, for good or evil, he has! His -seniority inspires reverence and commands imitation. -Luckily, Crawford was a thoroughly sterling -fellow. He had come to Oxford in earnest. -When he worked he worked; when he played he -played. There was the same vigour in his work -as in his “stroke” on the river or “rush” at -football. He kept chapels regularly; he said, -because morning-chapel gave him a long day. -There was a more earnest reason concealed behind -this; but he had a horror of the dangers of cant. -He knew what lectures were worth attending, and -attended them. He ridiculed and cut the worthless. -He knew who were the best “coaches,” and -said so. He abused the charlatans. In all matters -of social etiquette he was an old-fashioned Conservative; -for example, he always wore a black coat -and tall hat on Sundays, and roundly abused those -who loafed in light suits; and he never carried an -umbrella or wore gloves when attired in cap and -gown—a rather silly custom, perhaps; but its observance -in the face of innovations marks the man.</p> - -<p>After a little chat on school matters, Crawford -told Frank he was going to the University<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -sermon; and without any compunction told him—not -asked him—to accompany him.</p> - -<p>Frank, nothing loth, took his cap and gown, -and they went together.</p> - -<p>St. Mary’s does double duty: as a parish -church and as the University church; and here -the University sermons are preached at 10.30 a.m. -and 2 p.m. on each Sunday in full term, except -those of the Dean of Christ-Church, or the -Fellows of New College, Magdalen, and Merton, -which are or may be preached in the cathedral -and in the chapels of those colleges respectively.</p> - -<p>The nave—the part appropriated to the University—was -crowded when Frank and his companion -entered, for the preacher was a popular one. In -the gallery, facing that by the west window -assigned to undergraduates, the University -organist, Mr. Taylor, was already seated at the -organ, with six or eight chorister boys round him. -One of these hung a board, with the number of -the selected hymn, over the gallery, and then the -voluntary commenced.</p> - -<p>At 10.30 precisely the procession entered at -the north door: the vice-chancellor, preceded by -his mace-bearers, the esquire bedels and marshals,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -and followed by the heads of houses, the preacher, -and the proctors. Then the whole congregation -rose and, led by the choristers, sang the hymn -appointed. Afterwards came the quaint “bidding -prayer,” still used in most cathedrals, but made -especially quaint in a University city by the long -lists of founders and benefactors; and then the -sermon. At a quarter to twelve all was over, and -Frank was sitting in the window of Crawford’s -rooms in Brasenose; and as he looked out on the -sunny Radcliffe Square, with St. Mary’s graceful -spire, the black frowning “schools,” and the -pepper-box towers of All Souls, he heard with -reverent admiration (for he was, in his way, somewhat -of a poet) that these were Bishop Heber’s -rooms, that here he must have sat, and here he -must have written that famous Newdigate prize-poem, -“Palestine,” by which he will always be -remembered.</p> - -<p>Over the chimney looking-glass hung a gilded -face, with an enormous nose, the emblem of the -college. The pictures on the panelled walls -Frank soon became more intimately acquainted -with, for he found copies in most of his friends’ -rooms. There were “The Huguenots,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> “The -Black Brunswicker,” Landseer’s “Challenge,” -“Retreat,” and “Monarch of the Glen,” of course, -and many others of a more recent date. Three or -four pairs of boxing-gloves lay in one corner, -dumb-bells in another. Against the wall, in -racks, pipes of various descriptions, from the -short briar-root to the china bowl of the German -student (for Crawford had spent six months once -upon a time in Heidelberg), racket-bats, and an -oar, fondly cherished, that had helped to bring -victory to the Brasenose “four” a few years back -at Henley.</p> - -<p>At one o’clock Crawford’s scout appeared, and -almost at the same moment three invited friends, -strangers to Frank. At Oxford luncheon or -breakfast parties, etiquette does not require that -the guests should arrive late. The lunch was as -follows:—</p> - -<ul> -<li>Leg of lamb.</li> -<li>Couple of chicken.</li> -<li>Ham cut in huge slices.</li> -<li>Salad.</li> -<li>Lumps of bread.</li> -<li>Lumps of butter.</li> -<li>Lumps of cheese.</li> -<li>Celery.</li> -<li>Three pots of jam.</li> -<li>“French pastry” (in reality, English tarts).</li> -<li>Cyder cup.</li> -<li>Sherry and claret.</li> -</ul> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> - -<p>Fish, meat, and marmalade at nine that morning, -and a prospective dinner in Hall at six that evening, -did not prevent Frank’s four companions -from doing ample justice to the fare. He himself -was as yet unused to these meals, by which -circumstance Crawford’s scout profited.</p> - -<p>After lunch, pipes. At three the guests -dropped off; and the two school-fellows walked -to Cumnor—as a result of which Frank wasted -three hours on Monday evening, writing a poem -about Amy Robsart’s tomb.</p> - -<p>At five they got back to Oxford, and the freshman -was introduced to the reading and writing -rooms of the Union Society, Crawford entering -his name as a probationary member, and telling -him to call on Monday to pay the fee—25<i>s.</i> There -was hardly time to do more than glance at the -telegrams in the hall, and just look in at the -numerous readers and writers in the different -rooms; but the view was quite enough to enchant -Frank. And then the friends parted for their -respective chapels.</p> - -<p>At dinner that evening he made friends with -some freshmen, with one of whom he proposed -to go to St. Philip’s and St. James’ Church,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -for evening service. Dinner being prolonged -rather beyond the usual time, they had to run -pretty sharp, and even then were too late to get -a seat. They accordingly began to retrace their -steps, determining on future occasions, when -they meant to go to either of the parish churches, -to make their dinner at lunch-time, and “take -their names off Hall”—<i>i.e.</i> remove their names -from the list of those for whom dinner in Hall was -provided—and have supper in their rooms on their -return from service.</p> - -<p>As they were walking on, they were suddenly -stopped by a man having the appearance of a -policeman in plain clothes, who said,—</p> - -<p>“The Proctor wants to speak to you, gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>The next moment they saw a gentleman in -black gown and large velvet sleeves, who with -formal politeness raised his cap and said,—</p> - -<p>“Are you members of this University?”</p> - -<p>Frank and his friend murmured that they were.</p> - -<p>“Your names and colleges, if you please.”</p> - -<p>“Ross, of Paul’s.”</p> - -<p>“Mordaunt, of Paul’s.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> -<p>“Call on me to-morrow morning at nine, if you -please.”</p> - -<p>And the Proctor walked on, leaving Frank and -Mordaunt rather bewildered, and totally ignorant -where they were to call in the morning—for -though they knew they had been “proctorized,” -they did not know either the Proctor’s name -or his college.</p> - -<p>The marshal (the Proctor’s head attendant; the -rest being called “bull-dogs”), seeing them -standing in the road in evident uncertainty, said -to them,—</p> - -<p>“You’d best go back to college, gentlemen;” -and then, instinctively gathering that they were -freshmen, added,—</p> - -<p>“Where’s your caps and gowns? You’ll find -the Proctor at Christ-Church, gentlemen,” and -vanished with his bull-dogs after other unwary -undergraduates.</p> - -<p>The interview somewhat damped their spirits: -not that any fearful punishment was hanging over -their heads. Even the statutable fine of five -shillings for being without cap and gown would, -they believed, be remitted in consideration of their -being freshmen. But Frank had hoped to keep -out of the way of the Proctors; and this was indeed -an early beginning.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE FRESHMAN’S TERM.</span></h2> - -<p>Strolling towards the Lodge on Monday morning—because -everybody seemed to be strolling -in that direction—Frank had his attention called -to various notices posted in the gates. One was -to the effect that “the Master would see the gentlemen -that morning between 10 a.m. and noon, -the freshmen on Tuesday, between the same -hours.” Another that “the Dean would be glad -to see the freshmen at ten, the other gentlemen -after.” There was also a list of places in Hall; -announcements of the meetings of the College -Debating Society, Boat Club, Cricket Club; -Greek Testament Lecture, <i>sine ulla solemnitate</i> -(<i>i.e.</i> without cap and gown), at Mr. Wood’s house -every Sunday evening at nine. He was one of the -married Fellows—a hard-working, energetic man.</p> - -<p>Without quite knowing what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> “seeing the -freshmen” meant, Frank got his gown, and as it -was five minutes to ten, made his way to the Dean’s -rooms. In the passage outside he found about -twenty freshmen cooling their heels, and engaged, -some more and some less, in questions or chaff -with George, the Dean’s scout. George usually -had the best of it. In fact, the freshman who -dared to argue with him on matters of custom or -local politics, and especially local politics, found -himself considerably “shut up.”</p> - -<p>A door opened, and a sort of snort from within indicated -to George that the Dean was ready to see -the freshmen. One by one they filed in, and were -greeted by the Dean with a smile that was naturally -faint but tried to be sweet, and a grasp of the -hand that was meant to be cordial but was unmistakably -flabby. There were seats for all, but -it took some minutes to get into them. The interview -did not last long: just long enough, in -fact, to enable the Dean to make one remark to -each of the freshmen. To one, without waiting -for an answer, “How is your father?” To another, -“Does Mr. St. Leger intend coming forward -for Slowcombe?” To another, “Have you -been in Devonshire this vacation, Mr. Jones?”—Jones<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -being, of course, a Yorkshireman who has -never travelled further south than Oxford, when -he matriculated in February last. To one or two -a faint question as to their intentions. “Were -they going to read for Honours, or for a Pass?” -On the whole, Frank left the room depressed and -disheartened as to his work. He had expected -to be questioned as to what he had done at school: -what form he was in: what books he had read; -to be advised as to the turn his reading should -now take; whether he should read for Honours -in one examination or in more than one; or -whether, in short, reading for Honours would be -beyond him, and therefore waste of time. The -only piece of practical information he gained was -that Mr. Wood was his tutor, and to him he must -apply for all particulars as to Lectures and Examinations.</p> - -<p>The plan at Paul’s is similar to that at most -colleges. The undergraduates are distributed -among the tutors, a certain number being apportioned -to each. They are not necessarily to attend -their lectures, but they are to go to them for advice -and private assistance in their work. In many -colleges, battels are paid by the undergraduate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -to his own tutor. The tutors together draw up -a scheme of lectures, which the undergraduates -attend simply according to the necessities of the -examination for which they are reading, and not -according to the particular tutor to whom they -are assigned. Frank was assigned to Mr. Wood, -but did not attend his Lectures in his first term, -as they were for more advanced men. He learnt -all this when he went to him at the Dean’s direction. -What he failed to find in the Dean he found -in Mr. Wood, who met him cordially, took him -into his inner room, made him sit comfortably -on a sofa in the large bay window, and then -chatted with him for half an hour. The result -of the conversation was that Frank was to -work for Responsions,<a name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> which would come -on at the end of the current term; not to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a><br /><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -think about Moderations<a name="FNanchor_7" id="FNanchor_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> till he was safe through -this first ordeal; and to come on Sunday -evenings to Mr. Wood’s Greek Testament Lectures. -The hours and subjects of the other -lectures, he told Frank, he would find posted -on the Lodge-gate on the following day. He -asked him a few questions about his father -and the Vicar of Porchester, who was an old -friend; about his school and college friends; -asked him whether he boated or played cricket; -whether he meant to join the Union; told him if -he wanted any books out of the college library -to come to him; concluding hurriedly, as another -freshman, seeking advice, knocked timorously and -entered.</p> - -<p>The visit next morning to the Master was not -unlike that to the Dean—a purely formal one. -The Master’s questions chiefly related to cricket -and boating, indicating an anxiety to discover the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -promising men for the Eleven or the Boats. -Frank, as he sat in the Master’s arm-chair, while -the old gentleman warmed his coat-tails by an -imaginary fire, could not help falling to making -doggerel—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘D’ stands for Discipline, Duty, and Dean;</div> -<div class="verse">‘M’ must the Master and Merriment mean.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But there he stopped by lack of rhymes and a -general stampede of the Freshmen, to the great -relief of the much-enduring Master.</p> - -<p>Frank selected for Responsions the books he -had offered for Matriculation, the usual and -natural course; and with the assistance of Crawford -to interpret the Lecture-List on the college -gates, he made out his own lecture-card as follows:—</p> - -<table summary="Frank's lecture-card"> - <tr> - <th class="bdr bdt"></th> - <th class="tdc bdr bdt bdb">9.</th> - <th class="tdc bdr bdt bdb">10.</th> - <th class="tdc bdr bdt bdb">11.</th> - <th class="tdc bdt bdb">12.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="bdr">Monday</td><td class="bdr"></td><td class="bdr"></td><td class="bdr">Greek Plays—Mr. Lang</td><td>Latin Prose in Hall.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="bdr">Tuesday</td><td class="bdr"></td><td class="bdr">Cicero—Mr. Henderson</td><td class="bdr"></td><td>Grammar Paper.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="bdr">Wednesday</td><td class="bdr"></td><td class="bdr"></td><td class="bdr">Greek Plays—Mr. Lang</td><td>Latin Prose in Hall.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="bdr">Thursday</td><td class="bdr">Prose to Mr. Wood</td><td class="bdr">Cicero—Mr. Henderson</td><td class="bdr"></td><td>Grammar Paper.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="bdr">Friday</td><td class="bdr"></td><td class="bdr"></td><td class="bdr">Greek Plays—Mr. Lang</td><td>Latin Prose in Hall.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="bdr bdb">Saturday</td><td class="bdr bdb"></td><td class="bdr bdb">Cicero—Mr. Henderson</td><td class="bdr bdb"></td><td class="bdb">Grammar Paper.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> - -<p>The lectures in his books were much the same -as at school, except that the undergraduates -were treated with more respect than school-boys. -A certain quantity was set: the men were put -on in turn to translate; and general questions -asked. Sometimes, if time permitted, the lecturer -would translate the lesson himself when the men -had finished.</p> - -<p>The grammar and prose in Hall were in the -form of examination. The men were called up -one by one to be shown the mistakes in the -papers done on previous days, so that, with this -interruption, not much more than forty minutes -were left for actual writing. The prose on -Thursday morning was the only tutorial link -that bound Mr. Wood to his pupil, and that was, -as often as not, severed by a note to the effect -that Mr. Wood would be “unable to see Mr. -Ross on Thursday morning.”</p> - -<p>To Frank the work seemed as nothing after the -long hours of school. It never occurred to him -to look ahead, and to think of Moderations; in -fact, he had been told not to do so. And so he -commenced, energetically it is true, going over -work he already knew well enough to satisfy the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -examiners, listening to the marvellous mistakes -of his fellow-freshmen and of those senior men -who had been degraded because of failure in -previous terms. He soon learnt to think nothing -of hearing mistakes that would disgrace school-boys -of fifteen; and to fancy that, because he -regularly prepared his work and attended his -lectures, he was working to the utmost extent -that he could, or that was required of him. And -that is how so many first terms are wasted, and -boys with energy enough for eight or ten hours’ -daily study drift into two or three, and often -into none at all. Failure sometimes rouses them; -but it is a questionable remedy, and more often -demoralizes than benefits.</p> - -<p>There is not much work done in the summer -term; an outsider might say, none at all. But -then he would be judging from the external -appearance of the place: the quads crowded with -lounging men, waiting for drags to go to the -cricket-ground; the wide-open windows with -their gay flowers, whence issue sounds and scents -of the heavy luncheons of the more languidly -inclined; the river swarming with boats of all -sorts and sizes; the Union rooms full of readers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -leisurely scanning the papers or dipping into -the magazines, with ices or cigars to soothe or -sweeten the summer afternoons; the roads busy -with rattling pony-carriages bound for Woodstock -or Abingdon, Witney or Thame; even the -shops themselves are full, whose windows from -without and wares within tempt the passing -“loafer.” “Where are the reading men?” the -stranger may well ask.</p> - -<p>There are plenty of them if you know where -to find them. But it is just because the stranger -is a stranger that he won’t find them. What -can he know of the hours of heavy work got -through in the quiet of those bright summer -afternoons; of the one close-shut room on this -deserted staircase of open, idle doors; of that -back-quad attic, with its sported oak; of the -“coach’s” crowded chambers, where, unheeding -the charms of river or cricket-field, of Union-garden -or leafy roads, he and his hourly pupils -sit, “grinding for the schools”?</p> - -<p>Besides, the surprised and maybe shocked -stranger must remember that a large number of -men who come to Oxford do not come there -merely for the sake of the degree. They take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -one if they can; the sooner they can, so much -the better are they pleased. They come to be -made men and gentlemen. A degree is only -one of the many means to that end. It is only -because some make it their all-absorbing motive -that the University sends forth into the world -so many prigs.</p> - -<p>Within the first week Frank had made many -friends, most of them friends of Crawford’s, who -had called at his suggestion. The secretaries of -the Boat and Cricket Clubs had looked him up, -to whom Frank, with much pleasure, had paid -his entrance fee and annual subscriptions.</p> - -<p>The captain of the Paul’s company in the Rifle -Corps had come to work upon his military ardour; -the president of the College Debating Society, -to arouse his ambition for oratory; the collector -for the various Church Societies, to test his -impartiality and charity. Frank was enabled, by -his father’s wish and the means he had placed -at his disposal, to join the various societies, and -pay the subscriptions. But it was not this -pecuniary willingness alone that gained for our -freshman so much popularity. The pecuniary -outlay was as follows:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> - -<table summary="Frank's subscriptions" class="small"> - <tr> - <th></th><th class="tdr">£</th><th class="tdr"><i>s.</i></th><th class="tdr"><i>d.</i></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Boat Club</td><td class="tdr">3</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Cricket Club</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Paul’s Debating Society</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Union Society</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Rifle Corps, including Band-Subscriptions and Uniform</td><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>There is no need to enter into Frank’s charitable -subscriptions. They were neither large -nor small, but what they were, were given with -pleasure. About this time also came in the -valuation of his rooms, amounting to 30<i>l.</i> Our -freshman is now, therefore, fairly started on his -career.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE EIGHTS.</span></h2> - -<p>April slipped away, and it was the evening of -the 30th. Frank had dined in Hall; he had been -to all his lectures that morning. He knew the -work for the next day. There was no need, therefore, -he thought, for further work. Turning out -of the Lodge-gates, hardly knowing where he -was going, he strolled into the High; and just by -Spiers’ he met a new acquaintance—Morton, of -Magdalen.</p> - -<p>“Where are you off, Ross?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Don’t know,” answered Frank; “nowhere -particular.”</p> - -<p>The fact is, Frank had been drifting of late into -these evening rambles to “nowhere particular.” -And a good deal of time they occupied too.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> -<p>“You’d better come down to my rooms. I’ve -got one or two fellows coming in for a hand at -whist.”</p> - -<p>Frank, not being the impossible model young -man of the story-books, did not resist the invitation, -but, linking his arm into Morton’s, went off to -Magdalen. The April night was not so warm that -a fire was not pleasant. Morton’s rooms were in -the old quad, looking out towards the new -buildings and the deer-park. The curtains were -drawn and the lights burning. Several little -tables were laid with dessert, and one cleared -in the centre of the room, with packs of -cards upon it. There were about a dozen men -present.</p> - -<p>Dessert over, cards began; but it was not -whist. Everybody voted that slow. Frank himself -thought that he never had played so enticing -a game as loo. When he knocked in that night -at five minutes to twelve, he fancied the porter -eyed him suspiciously and knew that he had returned -<i>minus</i> a few pounds and <i>plus</i> a racking -headache. His suspicions were right. Few read -more rightly or more quickly the character and -career of the undergraduates than the porters -who open to them nightly.</p> - -<p>But, in spite of his headache, Frank managed -to be up at four o’clock next morning. He had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -accepted Morton’s invitation to breakfast at six, -after hearing the choir sing the May-Morning -Hymn on the college tower. George, the porter, -as he opened the Lodge-gates to Frank and -others, thought, in spite of his pale face, that he -at least could not have been up to much mischief -last night, or he would not have been up so early -after it. And George, usually infallible, began to -retract his last night’s opinion.</p> - -<p>As he stood on the leads and looked down -through the grey battlements on the faint fresh -green that was brightening the trees in the Botanical -Gardens; on the distant spires and towers; -and on the less fortunate crowds in the street below; -and as the sweet voices of the choir rose and blended -through the soft morning air, a feeling, whether -it was regret or remorse he hardly knew, came -over him. Anyhow he felt that this was a -sweeter, purer pleasure than the gambling of last -night, and confessed to himself that he had been -“an utter fool for his pains.”</p> - -<p>It was a blazing afternoon about the end of -May. The river—meaning thereby the Isis, the -main river, to distinguish it from its tributary the -Cherwell—was deserted save for a few energetic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -men in outrigged skiffs practising for sculling -races, and the boatmen, in charge of the various -college barges, sweltering in the sun, and, as fast -as the heat would allow them, making preparations -for the work of the evening. The Cherwell, -with its slow, shady stream, its winding banks and -drooping trees, was the favourite resort, but even -here all was quiet. Every now and then a canoe -flashed by lazily, or a punt plunged up in search -of some cool nook. There was a momentary disturbance, -perhaps, as it bumped against one -already moored; and pairs of sleepy eyes would -look up to scowl at the new-comer, if a stranger; -or greet him lazily if a friend.</p> - -<p>Just in one of the pleasantest corners, Frank -and Monkton had fixed their craft, and were lying -face upwards on a couple of enormous cushions—Monkton -smoking or pretending to smoke; -Frank reading or pretending to read.</p> - -<p>“Are you going to stay for the Eights?” asked -Monkton.</p> - -<p>“Rather,” answered Frank. “Why? aren’t -you?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> -<p>“No, not I! In the first place, I don’t care -about them; and in the second place, I’ve promised -Morton to drive to Abingdon at seven. -It’ll be getting cool then.”</p> - -<p>“It seems to me you’re rather fond of going -to Abingdon,” answered Frank. “What’s the -attraction?”</p> - -<p>“My dear boy, ask no questions and I’ll tell -you no lies”—and at that moment a punt ran -right into them.</p> - -<p>“Now then, sir, look ahead!” spluttered Monkton -as their punt was nearly upset, and his cigar -falling from his mouth burnt a small hole in his -flannel trousers. The intruder apologized and -plunged on again to disturb the rest of other unlucky -beings.</p> - -<p>“Well,” went on Frank, “I’m glad I’ve not to -pay your bill for pony-traps, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, as far as that goes,” retorted Monkton, -waking up a little, “that don’t trouble me. -I patronize the trustful Traces, and I’m sure the -trustful one would be quite embarrassed if I -offered to pay him; so I don’t. That’s all.”</p> - -<p>“Does your governor give you an allowance?” -asked Frank.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> -<p>“Not he. He told me not to get into debt, and -to send in the bills. And a fellow can’t live like -a hermit. I’ve always had a horse at home, so I -don’t see why I shouldn’t have one here. But -I’m not proud, and so I hire a pony instead, and -I’m sure the old man ought not to mind.”</p> - -<p>“Come out of that, you lazy young beggar!” -called a voice in Frank’s ears, and looking up he -saw Crawford in one of those little cockle-shells -in which Mr. Verdant Green so highly distinguished -himself—“Aren’t you coming down to -see the Eights?”</p> - -<p>Monkton looked at Crawford with that expression -of half insolence, half fear, which characterizes -so many freshmen, and drawled out,—</p> - -<p>“Yes; Ross is going. He’s so energetic, you -know.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a blessing, at all events,” answered -Crawford, “as long as there are fellows like you, -about.”</p> - -<p>“By Jove!” said Frank, pulling out his watch, -“it’s getting late. If you’re going to Abingdon -at seven, Monkton, you’ll have to look sharp.”</p> - -<p>“Going to Abingdon?” asked Crawford, half -to himself, and getting no answer from Monkton.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> -<p>“Look here! I say, you fellows! can’t you -manage to get this punt back to the barges, and -let me cut up through the meadows?” said -Monkton. “I promised to be in Morton’s rooms -at half-past six, and it’s just on six now.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Frank, “Crawford will help -me back with the punt”—really glad to get rid -of him, for his younger and his older friend did -not hit it off exactly.</p> - -<p>“It strikes me that young man is beginning -rather early,” said Crawford paternally, as he -lashed his boat to the punt and got in, much to -Frank’s relief, for it was his first day in a -punt.</p> - -<p>The latter did not say much, for he had himself -commenced various extensive dealings with the -trustful tradesmen—trustful, that is, for two years, -but most distrustful afterwards—and he feared -questioning and an inevitable lecture from Crawford.</p> - -<p>By the time they reached the barges, the river -and banks were getting crowded. The band was -assembling on the ’Varsity barge (that belonging -to the University Boat Club); and all the other -college barges were in a bustle of excitement. -It was “the first night of the Eights,” and many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -were the attempts to explain that somewhat elliptical -phrase to the uninitiated matrons and -maidens who were flocking from every quarter of -the town.</p> - -<p>Just at the mouth of the Cherwell, Crawford -and Frank met a party of ladies and escorted -them to the Paul’s barge; and the latter, though -he fancied he was clear as to the meaning of -“Eights” and “Torpids,” was really not sorry -to overhear his friend’s explanation.</p> - -<p>“You see,” Crawford was saying to a pretty -girl with bright blue eyes, that certainly did not -seem to be reminded that they could see—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>“You -see, every college, that is athletic enough, has a -Boat Club; the best eight oars, rowers I mean, constitute -‘<i>the</i> Eight;’ the second best eight are ‘the -Torpid.’ The Torpid-races, or as we call them, -‘the Torpids,’ take place in the Lent term; every -college that has an Eight and a Torpid enters the -latter for the Torpid-races; and then they all row -to see which is best. Then in the Summer term -‘the Eights’ are on; that is the races of the college -Eight-oars; to-night is the first night, you -know. All the Eights are going to row to see -which is best.”</p> - -<p>“Yes; but,” said Blue-eyes, “why do they -have more than one race?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you see”—Crawford could not help the -phrase—“that is—er—it’s rather difficult to explain.”</p> - -<p>But after a moment he took courage, and -plunged into his explanation, which was to this -effect, and which may assist the uninitiated -reader.</p> - -<p>The river is too narrow to admit of boats -racing abreast. They are therefore arranged one -behind the other, there being 120 feet from the -nose of one to the stern of the other. All start -simultaneously, the object of each being to -“bump”—<i>i.e.</i> run into and touch the one in -front of it. When a “bump” has taken place, -both the “bumper” and the “bumped” row to -the bank to let the others pass. There is a post -opposite the barges, where most of the spectators -sit, and when once a boat has passed this it cannot -be bumped. The following night—called -“night,” but really meaning seven o’clock—the -boats all start, with this exception, that if, for -example, on Monday Balliol has bumped Christ-Church, -on Tuesday Balliol will start ahead of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -Christ-Church. The latter then has the chance -of regaining its position by bumping Balliol, but -it is also exposed to the danger of being bumped -by the next boat. This goes on, in the case of -the “Torpid,” for six days; of the “Eights,” for -eight “nights.” At the end, the boat that -finishes with all the others behind it, holds the -proud position of “Head of the River” for the -year. It may have gained this by making -“bumps,” or by avoiding being “bumped.” -How the order was, in the origin of the races, -settled, it is impossible to say; but it is the rule -that any college club which “puts on”—<i>i.e.</i> enters -a boat for the races—for the first time shall -start at the bottom. Perhaps, after this explanation, -any remaining difficulty will be cleared -up by suggesting, as an illustration, a school-class, -in which a place is gained for a successful -answer. The boats, by “bumping” and being -“bumped,” respectively gain and lose places.</p> - -<p>Crawford was rowing in the Brasenose Eight. -So, after seeing his lady friends to seats on the -top of the college barge, he ran down-stairs to -dress for the race. The men who rowed in the -Brasenose Eight and Torpid were unlike the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -majority of men of other colleges, in that they -walked to the river in <i>mufti</i>, and put on their -boating-clothes in their barge. Frank, pleading -an excuse that he wanted to go down the Berkshire -bank to see the start, but chiefly because -he was rather shy, left Crawford’s party to the -attention of some other men, and, crossing in old -George West’s punt, was soon lost in the crowd.</p> - -<p>One by one the boats paddled down to the -start, cheered by their own men as they passed. -The crowd thickened. A great surging mass -pressed up against the rails that enclosed the -barges, and gazed enviously at the lucky ones -within the enclosure. A black line went coiling -down the pathway towards Iffley. Those were -the men who would see the start, and run back -with the boats to cheer them on. Presently there -was a great silence. Everybody was looking -right away to the Iffley Willows, or at watches. -Then the first gun went. Conversation flowed -again for four minutes. Then the one-minute -gun—and then utter silence, till with the third -boom a roar of voices began, that came nearer -and louder as the great black line began coiling -home again, as fast as it could.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> - -<p>Brasenose was Head of the River; and Blue-eyes -was wearing the Brasenose colours; and -Blue-eyes’ heart, though she would not have confessed -it, was in a flutter of excitement. On came -the boats. Balliol was close behind Brasenose. -The Brasenose men on bank and barge shouted. -The Balliol men shouted more loudly. They must -catch them. Blue-eyes hated the Balliol men; -but, for all that, the nose of the Balliol boat was -within a foot of the Brasenose rudder. Now it -overlapped it, but failed to touch it, for the Brasenose -coxswain, by a sharp pull of the rudder-string, -turned a rush of water against their nose -and washed them off.</p> - -<p>The Brasenose men yelled till Blue-eyes felt -the drums of her little ears were nigh to cracking. -And then Crawford, who was rowing stroke, -seemed to pull himself together for a final effort, -and laying himself well out, gave his men a longer -stroke. Now they were clear—now there was a -foot between them—now two—now three. Then -he quickened: his men answered bravely. Foot -by foot they drew ahead, and when they were on -the post, Balliol was a good length behind. Blue-eyes -had often heard,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> “See, the Conquering Hero -comes,” but she could not make out why the -sound of it now gave her a choking feeling in the -throat. Certainly she saw no more of the races, -though boat by boat came by, each in as keen -pursuit of the one just in advance of it as Balliol -had been to catch Brasenose.</p> - -<p>There was a merry party that night in Crawford’s -rooms, and Blue-eyes sat by the host, and -was highly amused at the plain fare he was obliged -to eat in the midst of the dainties of the supper-table; -and she was half inclined to be cross when -at a quarter to ten the captain of the Boat Club, -who was present, firmly but politely suggested -the breaking up of the party—“unless,” he explained, -“you want to see Brasenose go down to-morrow -night.”</p> - -<p>But men must work, or at any rate go in for -examinations, whatever the women may do. So -the “Eights” passed away, and Blue-eyes returned -to her home, taking with her, from many, -the sunshine she had brought. The Proctor’s -notices recalled Frank and several hundred other -unfortunates to the stern realities of University -life. Parted for a while in the all-too-brief days -of Blue-eyes’ supremacy, Monkton and Frank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -drifted together again by the force of kindred -obligations. Together they went to the Junior -Proctor, and entered their names for Responsions -(commonly called “Smalls,” “because such a -werry small number on ’em gets through,” as the -guides will tell you); together they parted with -the statutable guinea, fondly hoping that in due -time they would get a tangible result in the shape -of a testamur. Together they gazed admiringly, -nor yet without awe, at their names when they -appeared in the Gazette; and together, in white -ties and “garments of a subfusc hue,” as prescribed -by the statutes, they proceeded one bright -morning in June to the Schools. There for two -days, from nine to twelve, and from half-past one -to half-past three, they were examined by papers. -Then, after waiting a few days, Monkton’s <i>vivâ -voce</i> came on, the order of this being alphabetical. -But when at two o’clock the same day the Clerk -of the Schools read out a list of those who had -passed, and for the gladly-paid shilling handed -over a small piece of blue paper, testifying the -fact in the handwriting of the much-enduring -Examiners, Monkton’s testamur was, alas! not -forthcoming. Frank did not pass as easily as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -might have passed. The last few weeks had taken -the polish off his work. He got his testamur, it -is true, but he was rather ashamed of feeling -relieved, for he knew that he ought never to have -had any fears of failing in such a school-boy -examination.</p> - -<p>He called on his tutor to consult him as to his -future work. The First Public Examination -(commonly called Moderations) is, like Responsions, -obligatory on all; but here the student -may offer either the minimum amount of work, -called “a Pass,” or go in for Honours either in -Classics or Mathematics. The Honours Examination -is to chiefly test style of translation from -Latin and Greek authors into English, and <i>vice -versâ</i>, together with grammatical and critical -questions bearing on the contents, style, and -literary history of the books offered. Papers are -also set in the Elements of Comparative Philology; -the History of the Greek Drama, with Aristotle’s -Poetics; and the Elements of Deductive Logic, -with either selections from the Organon, or from -Mill’s “Inductive Logic.” The four Gospels in -Greek, together with questions on the subject-matter, -are compulsory on all,—Passmen and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -Classmen alike. After the examination is over, -the examiners (in this instance called Moderators) -distribute the names of those whom they judge -to have shown sufficient merit into three classes, -the names in each class being arranged alphabetically. -If a candidate is not good enough to be -placed in a class, but has yet shown as much -knowledge as is required of the ordinary Passmen, -he receives a testamur to that effect. This is -called a “gulf.” The subjects for Pass Moderations -are Latin Prose (rather more difficult than -for Responsions); the elements of Logic, or -Arithmetic and Algebra to Quadratic Equations; -unseen passages of Greek and Latin; and three -authors, of whom one must be Greek, and one -must be either an Orator, Philosopher, or Historian.</p> - -<p>After a little questioning, Mr. Wood’s advice -to Frank was to go in for a Pass, and, that over, -to read for Honours in one of the Final Schools, -such as Modern History or Law. The advice -was wise, for his classical reading was not very -much advanced; and even if he could have -got through the bare reading of the necessary -text-books, he would not have acquired the style<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -of translation and elegance in composition needed -for the highest honours.</p> - -<p>He chose Logic in preference to Mathematics, -by Mr. Wood’s advice; and for his -authors, Herodotus (Books V. and VI.); Livy -(Books V., VI., and VII.), and Juvenal, certain -Satires being omitted. Having purchased these -books, and laid in a good store of industrious -intentions, he left Oxford and his freshman’s term -behind him, not at all sorry to be going home.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE LONG VACATION.</span></h2> - -<p>There was a good deal of the school-boy’s pleasure -in the commencement of the holidays, mixed -with the pride that he felt in his new condition. -There were only a few passengers for -Porchester, and only a few people on the platform -when he alighted; but the few there were knew -him, and Oxford made the chief matter of their -inquiries, and a pleasant topic for him to dilate -upon. But he was soon hurried off by two of his -admiring younger brothers, and seated at the -side of old John, the factotum, in the pony-carriage, -talking hard, now to him, now to his -brothers, who sat behind. How familiar the road -was! Did green hedges ever look so green as -those? or was summer twilight ever so sweet as -this that lay so peacefully about little Porchester? -The old church-tower rose like a soft shadow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -from the close trees. There, beside it, peeped -the vicarage gables and chimneys. There was -old Sally, the laundress, resting at her gateway, -rubbing her wrinkled fingers as though she would -smooth away the signs of so much soap and -water. There was the postmaster putting up the -shutters of his little grocery-shop; the tailor in -his garden, tending his standard roses; the -blacksmith at his silent smithy; there were the -carrier’s horses just being unharnessed from the -van that in these primitive parts was no mean -rival of the railway. A few children here; a knot -of women there, chattering, scolding, laughing, -staring, questioning; there a group of men -outside the “Anchor;” here some boys playing -marbles.</p> - -<p>How unchanged it all was! The term at -Oxford seemed like a dream. Frank could -scarcely believe he had been away more than two -months.</p> - -<p>Now they are passing the vicarage garden. -The gate is open, and Frank, much to the amusement -of Tom and Will in the hind-seat of the -pony-carriage, stares hard through the white posts -and up the lawn. Whatever his thoughts or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -hopes may have been, they are rudely interrupted -(and most probably shattered) by a couple of -voices from behind, which seem to be bubbling -over with amusement, and to be jostling each -other for the first and loudest place.</p> - -<p>“She’s away!”</p> - -<p>“Who’s away?” asked Frank quietly, with -assumed indifference.</p> - -<p>“Who’s away?” repeat the two behind. -“Why, who’re you looking for, eh?”</p> - -<p>“<i>Are</i> the vicarage people away, then?” said -Frank.</p> - -<p>“Rose is,” again comes from the bubbling -voices.</p> - -<p>But before the subject can be pursued further, -old John, pointing with his whip, says,—</p> - -<p>“There’s the master, sir.”</p> - -<p>And Frank, looking straight away up the road, -discerns his father coming towards them, and -jumps out of the carriage.</p> - -<p>“Why, Frank, my boy, I declare you’ve -grown!”</p> - -<p>Nor did his dignity decline the honour. He -took his father’s arm, and, letting the younger -ones drive home with John and the luggage,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -walked and talked with his father till they reached -the house. His mother and sisters were at the -door to welcome him. Never had there been -such a pleasant, proud home-coming yet. The -servants peeped from the upper windows to see -“Master Frank,” whom they doubtless expected -to find completely transformed, and John, taking -the luggage from the carriage, again took stock -of him, and told the servants with an air that, as -always, carried weight,—</p> - -<p>“Arter all, there’s no place like college to make -a man of a young gentleman.”</p> - -<p>One scene more to complete the first act of our -freshman’s life.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ross was, as became a lawyer, a man of -sound business-like habits. Directly after breakfast -on the following morning he called Frank -into his study, and they went together through -all the bills.</p> - -<p>The result of their investigation was as -follows:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> - -<table summary="Frank's bills"> - <tr> - <th></th><th class="tdr">£</th><th class="tdr"><i>s.</i></th><th class="tdr"><i>d.</i></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Travelling and Hotel Expenses at Matriculation</td><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Caution Money (to Paul’s)</td><td class="tdr">30</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Matriculation Fee (to the University)</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Glass and China (to the scout)</td><td class="tdr">9</td><td class="tdr">19</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Cap and Gown</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Entrance Fee (Union Society)</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Boat Club Subscription</td><td class="tdr">3</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Cricket Club</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Paul’s Debating Society</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Rifle Corps</td><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Valuation of Furniture</td><td class="tdr">30</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Battels for Summer Term</td><td class="tdr">35</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Fee for Responsions</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Books, Sundries, and Travelling Expenses</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>The summer passed. Frank had been to the -Henley Regatta at Crawford’s invitation, and had -stayed with him at the old “Red Lion” with -various crews; had run down the bank at his -side when he was practising for the Diamond -Sculls in the sweet June mornings, and had -shouted with the shouting crowd when he won the -race, beating the London man and the Cantab -who had been training “dark.” Then he had -gone to Crawford’s home for a pleasant week; -then back to little Porchester, where, with garden-parties -and cricket, with boating on the river that -seemed so deserted after the crowded Isis, and -lawn-tennis, the time had passed away happily -enough. Of work for the “Schools” Frank had -done little or nought; but when in August the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -vicar’s daughter left Porchester for six weeks, -work somehow seemed easier, and he managed to -get through a fair amount; and again, when the -boys went back to school about the middle of -September, and he was left alone with his parents -and sisters, there seemed fresh opportunities for -study. But then—but then back came the vicar’s -daughter, and books were again forgotten. The -village seemed to have gained fresh beauties. -Every old gate and stile seemed no longer made -of common wood, every hedge no longer clad with -common green. The organ-loft where she practised -in the week was no longer a dusty, dark, -break-neck place, but the place for breaking -something which, whatever lovers may say, is -often easily mended by</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Time and the change the old man brings.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And what a poet Frank was in those days! -How he idealized, and in his own fashion glorified, -every little winding woodland path, every glimpse -of wold seen through the fading autumn leaves, -every stretch of quiet river, the old boats, the -crumbling bridge, the dark weir, the church-tower—that -useful part of a young poet’s stock-in-trade.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>In fact, when he returned to Oxford one Friday -evening in October, he quite agreed with the old -woman’s and the sailor’s superstition that Friday -was an unlucky day; he wrapped himself in his -rug, and felt that if his heart was not breaking, -he was at least deeply in love. Silence was his -consolation. He rejected the invitation of a friend -whom he met <i>en route</i> to transfer himself and his -goods to the atmosphere of a smoking compartment. -He stared gloomily at the persistent -bookstall-boys; rejected even the offer of a Banbury -cake at Didcot. In his condition, there was -something positively comforting in that most -cheerless and wretched of all stations. The wind -that moaned in the telegraph-wires seemed to -murmur “Rose.” The bell that rang violently -in the platform-porter’s hand seemed like the -little single bell in Porchester Church—of course -much louder and harsher to Frank’s imagination, -but it was a bell, and it recalled Rose, and that -was enough.</p> - -<p>Having passed safely through the turmoil of -the Oxford platform, and the loneliness of -Friday night, on Saturday morning he rushed -precipitously to Davis’s picture-shop in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> “the -Turl,”<a name="FNanchor_8" id="FNanchor_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> and having purchased a photograph of -the Huguenot picture by Millais, hung it in a -corner by his chimney looking-glass. In that -corner his friends noticed he now was constantly -to be found sitting. They, of course, did not know -that in that picture Frank saw Rose and himself -under the vicarage wall. He was at a loss, it is -true, to account even to himself for the pocket-handkerchief -which is being bound round the reluctant -arm. But what mattered to him such a -paltry detail, even though it made the whole gist -of the picture?</p> - -<p>Term began with the usual routine. Chapel at -half-past eight on Saturday evening, at which all -assembled except a few who were detained by -those convenient “tidal trains,” which always -seem to be late when one is coming back from a -Long-Vacation scamper on the Continent, or -from the injured Emerald Isle, but never when -one is thither bound.</p> - -<p>And then comes Sunday morning, with the -many good-intentioned ones hurrying to their -seats past the much-enduring Bible-clerk, whose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -labours would, however, very soon lessen with the -growth of term;—Sunday, with the heavy -luncheon;—Sunday, with the long constitutional -in the bright October sunlight—was a first -Sunday in Michaelmas Term ever other than a -bright one? Dinner in Hall at six, with the endless -greetings that the confusion of Chapel had -prevented. Monday morning, with its formal -calls on Master and Dean, Tutor and Lecturer; and -Monday evening, with its posted list of lectures, -club-meetings, and subscriptions; till Tuesday -morning comes, with the greater or less obedience -of the victims of those various calls, shows -that term has begun in very earnest, no matter -whether the earnestness be the earnestness of industry -or of that which flourishes as abundantly—idleness.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">“THE FLYING TERMS.”</span></h2> - -<p>It was a Thursday night; and the rooms of the -“Union” were crowded, for the debate was to be -opened by a popular member. A few men were -in the reading-rooms, indifferent to the subject -and its mover; a few were in the writing-room, -hurrying over their letters, in order to be in time -for the “private business,” which is usually the -most amusing part of the evening’s proceedings. -There were several important telegrams posted in -the Hall, and the stopping of members to read -them considerably added to the general confusion. -Ladies were hurrying upstairs to the little uncomfortable -gallery,<a name="FNanchor_9" id="FNanchor_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> with amused looks of curiosity, -or the calm equanimity of accustomed visitors.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -No one to-night waited to read, either for -edification or for amusement, the endless notices -of those private tutors, to whom advertisement -seems a dire necessity—those manifestos of all -shades, pleading, peremptory, apologetic, confidential, -and confident, which suggest the question:—“Where -are the pupils, to be instructed -by these willing and anxious instructors?”</p> - -<p>The steward’s room is in possession of two -attendants only, for the steward and his indefatigable -son are upstairs in the committee-room, -in attendance upon the committee.</p> - -<p>It is eight o’clock, and the debating-room is -crammed. Every seat is filled; but those for -whom there are not seats are quite content to -stand. The gallery is fringed with women’s faces, -looking down upon the mass of men below. There -is a murmur of suppressed conversation, which -suddenly ceases on the cry of “Order.” The -president enters, followed by the treasurer, -librarian, and most of the members of the committee. -He is in evening dress—the exception and -not the rule; in his case it is the sign of honour. -He has been dining, for the first time, at the -High table of the college which has just elected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -him Fellow. To-night is his first public appearance -since his election, and, being a popular man -and officer, he is loudly cheered. The officers -seat themselves, and in a moment the president -rises and proclaims “Order,” and the business of -the evening commences. He first reads a list of -those members of the University proposed for -election, and those already elected, and then calls -upon the librarian to bring forth his list of books. -That officer, a big-headed, ungainly man, with a -squint, hurries through a list, to which prices and -particulars are appended, and then asks any, who -wish, to challenge any book or books. If any are -challenged, they are temporarily withdrawn from -the list, and the rest are put to the vote and -carried; after which the objections are made to -the particular books before challenged, and are -met by the librarian with considerable ability, and -the books, with one exception, carried. He then -rises to propose “That ‘The Gorgon Head’ (much -laughter), by Mr. Tennyson Jones, presented by -the author to the library, be accepted by the -society, and that a vote of thanks be given to the -honourable member for his present.”</p> - -<p>No one wishing to challenge this proposition,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -it is formally put and carried, with faint cheering.</p> - -<p>The president then rises: “Does any honourable -member wish to put any question to the -officers of this society relative to their official -duties?”</p> - -<p>At least a dozen members rise in different parts -of the room—we beg pardon—the House.</p> - -<p>A red-headed young gentleman, with spectacles, -catches first the president’s eye, and is put in -possession of the House. His voice is high and -shrill.</p> - -<p>“Sir—”</p> - -<p>“Hear! hear!” from several facetious members -encouragingly.</p> - -<p>“Sir—I wish to ask the honourable treasurer—(loud -cries of ‘Speak up, sir’)—I wish to ask -the honourable treasurer—”</p> - -<p>“Hear! hear!” from a stentorian voice in one -corner.</p> - -<p>“Order! order!”</p> - -<p>“Sir,” again resumes the luckless red-headed -inquirer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> “I—I—have lost my umbrella. I—I—put -it in the stand on Wednesday evening—(‘Hear! -hear!’)—on my way to—to—the smoking-room, -and—and—and—it was not there when -I came back.” And the speaker drops into his -seat.</p> - -<p>The treasurer takes no notice, but the president -rises and says:—“I must remind the -honourable member that any statement he may -have to make must be introduced or followed by -a question.”</p> - -<p>The owner of the lost umbrella rises, and -before he has opened his mouth is told to “speak -up.” This time he does speak up, in very shrillness: -“I wish to ask the honourable treasurer -whether he will take some steps for the recovery -of my umbrella.”</p> - -<p>The treasurer is a stout youth, short of speech -and of stature. He clips his sentences: “I must -remind the honourable member that this society -is not a police institution. I regret the loss of -his umbrella. I regret still more that there are -members in this society so careless or so dishonest -as to remove umbrellas not belonging to -them.”</p> - -<p>“Sir”—from another corner—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>“I consider the -answer of the honourable treasurer most unsatisfactory. -I now beg to ask him whether he will -take steps to prevent the robbery—(‘Oh! oh!’)—yes—robbery -of the property of members of -this society.”</p> - -<p>The treasurer is again on his legs: “In answer -to the last honourable member, I beg to say that -as far as I know anything of the funds of this -society, it is not in a position to pay for policemen -to guard the umbrellas of honourable -members. If honourable members value their -umbrellas, I should recommend them to leave -them in the steward’s room, or carry them with -them into whichever of the society’s rooms they -may go.”</p> - -<p>“Sir”—from another quarter—“will you move -for a committee of inquiry into the loss of -umbrellas and other property?” (Loud cheers.)</p> - -<p>By this time the treasurer is white-hot:—“No, -sir!” and he flumps into his chair—(loud cheers -from the treasurer’s partisans and from the -admirers of his doggedness). He is not, however, -yet done with.</p> - -<p>“I beg to ask the honourable treasurer,” -says a grimy-looking youth, “why there are so -few nail-brushes in the lavatory?” (Roars of -laughter.)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> - -<p>“In answer to the honourable member,” says -the treasurer, “I beg to state that I have -already given orders for a fresh and—as they -seem so much in request—a still larger supply.” -(Cheers.)</p> - -<p>Then there is a brief space of silence.</p> - -<p>“Does any other honourable member wish to -put any questions to the officers of this society -relative to their official duties?”</p> - -<p>No one rising, the president says—</p> - -<p>“The House will now proceed to public business;” -and after waiting a few seconds, to give -those who wish the chance to leave, he reads from -a notice-board,—</p> - -<p>“The motion before the House is, ‘That the -present Ministry is unworthy of the confidence of -this House and of the nation,’ moved by Mr. -Dubber, of Trinity.”</p> - -<p>There is a perfect uproar as Mr. Dubber rises -and moves towards the table—cheers from his -supporters, groans from his opponents; but he is -too accustomed to the temper of his audience to -take any notice. He pours out a glass of water -and leisurely drinks half the contents, and waits -confidently. His confidence commands attention;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -and in a clear, ringing voice, he proceeds to -rattle away a clever <i>résumé</i> of the stump speeches -of his political party. There is no lack to-night -of speakers. No less than six rise directly he sits -down.</p> - -<p>And so the debate goes on unflaggingly until -half-past ten, when, there being no more speakers, -the mover replies; and then the president reads -the motion once more, and says,—</p> - -<p>“Those who are in favour of this motion will -say ‘Aye;’ those who are against it will say -‘No.’”</p> - -<p>There are nearly 500 members present, and the -noise may be imagined.</p> - -<p>“The ‘Noes’ have it,” is the president’s -ruling.</p> - -<p>“Divide! divide!” from the “Ayes;” and the -president accordingly gives the order,—</p> - -<p>“Those who are in favour of this motion will -go to the right of the chair; those who are against -it to the left.”</p> - -<p>Then follows a scene of indescribable confusion. -In about ten minutes’ time the numerous -tellers have agreed, and the president reads the -numbers,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Those who are in favour of this motion, 179; -those who are against it, 290. The motion is -therefore lost.”</p> - -<p>Loud cheers, and the House separates.</p> - -<p>Within a few days of the commencement of -term, Frank had found his name posted for rowing—that -is, for rowing under the direction of -the senior men who were coaching the likely -freshmen for the Torpid races, which would come -off in the ensuing Lent Term; and he took so -kindly to the work that he was soon regularly -among the recognized set from which the crew -would eventually be picked. In fact, his performances -had attracted the notice of the president -of the University Boat Club, and he had -been “down” with the men who were being -coached with a view to rowing against Cambridge. -This was indeed an honour; and he strained -every energy to get chosen for one of the Trial -Eights that were to race at the end of term, -and from which the University Eight (commonly -called “the ’Varsity”) would be selected.</p> - -<p>His wishes were fulfilled, and he was put No. -6 in what was supposed to be the better of the -two boats. This, of course, insured his rowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -in his College Torpid next term, and in his College -Eight in the summer term, and it might have led -to a seat in “the ’Varsity.”</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, it did not; but Frank was -well content with the honour of merely rowing in -the “Trials,” and more especially as the Eight in -which he was rowing won the race in November. -Towards the close of term he was made a Freemason, -and very proud he was to tell his father, -himself a Mason of some distinction, the various -gossip of his lodge, “The Apollo,” which claims -among its members some of England’s best-known -brethren.</p> - -<p>One other little distinction Frank had to relate -on going down for the Christmas vacation, and -that was the flattering notice, in the <i>Undergraduate’s -Journal</i>, of a poem of his which had -appeared in the University magazine, <i>College -Rhymes</i>;<a name="FNanchor_10" id="FNanchor_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> and it may safely be asserted that -no one in Porchester was prouder of the poet -than the vicar’s daughter, who saw herself reflected -in the mirror of his verse.</p> - -<p>The Christmas vacation passed. Lent Term -came, and with it the Torpids. Paul’s made five<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -bumps, and Frank duly posted copies of the -<i>Undergraduate’s Journal</i>, which recorded the -fact, to the vicarage and to his home. But with -this proud event he abandoned for the present -most of his amusements, confined himself to the -practice for the Eights which were coming off in -May, and to his work for Moderations, which -was fixed for about the same date. The college -lectures not being sufficient, he found himself -obliged to “put on a coach”—<i>i.e.</i> employ a -private tutor—during the summer term; but -when he got his “testamur” in June, just a week -before Commemoration, he and his father both -felt that the ten guineas<a name="FNanchor_11" id="FNanchor_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> had been profitably -expended.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">A READING PARTY.</span></h2> - -<p>Moderations being thus thrown behind, the next -step was the choice of subjects in which to take -a degree. For the Second Public or Final Examination -for the degree of B.A. there is yet -further scope of subject allowed. Here, again, a -student has the option of taking a Pass or an -Honour Degree; and here also both Passmen -and Classmen alike have to pass an examination -in the Rudiments of Faith and Religion, the subjects -of which are:—</p> - -<p>(1) The Books of the Old and New Testament.</p> - -<p>(2) The Holy Gospels and Acts of the Apostles in the -original Greek.</p> - -<p>(3) The Thirty-nine Articles.</p> - -<p>But any candidate may for himself, or his parents -or guardians for him, object on religious grounds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -to this examination, and in this case he is allowed -to offer some books or subjects appointed for -this purpose by the Board of Studies.</p> - -<p>The subjects for the Pass Degree are arranged -in three groups, as follows, the books specified -being those which may now be offered till further -notice:—</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Group A.</span></p> - -<p>(1) Two books, either both Greek, or one Greek and one -Latin; one being a Greek philosophical work, and the -other a Greek or Latin historian.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p><i>e.g.</i> Aristotle’s Ethics, Books i.-iv., together with -chapters 6-10 of Book x.</p> - -<p>Aristotle’s Politics, Books i., iii., vii.</p> - -<p>Plato—Republic, Books i.-iv.</p> - -<p>Herodotus—Books vii.-ix.</p> - -<p>Livy, Books xxi.-xxiv.</p> - -<p>Tacitus—Annals, Books i.-iv.</p> - -<p>With questions on the subject-matter of the books -offered.</p> - -</div> - -<p>(2) The outlines of Greek and Roman History, with a special -period of one or the other, and English Composition.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p><i>e.g.</i> Greek—from the Legislation of Solon to the -death of Alexander the Great.</p> - -<p>Roman—from the establishment of the Republic -to the death of Domitian.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Special periods.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>Greek—the Persian war; the Peloponnesian war.</p> - -<p>Roman—the second Punic war; the reign of -Tiberius.</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Group B.</span></p> - -<p>(1) Either English History and a period or subject of English -Literature, or a period of modern European History, -with Political and Descriptive Geography, with -English Composition in each case.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p><i>e.g.</i> English History to 1815, with one of the -following:—</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) Piers Ploughman—the Prologue, Passus -i.-vii.; Chaucer—the Prologue, the -Knightes Tale, the Nonne Prestes -Tale.</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) Shakespeare—The Tempest, King Lear, -Richard II., Hamlet.</p> - -<p>(<i>c</i>) Dryden—Selections; Pope—Essay on -Man, Epistles and Satires.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<p>(2) French or German, including Composition and a period -of Literature.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p><i>e.g.</i> Molière, Le Tartuffe; Corneille, Les Horaces, -<i>or</i> Racine, Athalie; Voltaire, Siècle de -Louis XIV., Chapters i.-xxiv., with a -general acquaintance with the History and -Literature of the Age of Louis XIV.; unseen -passages of French: <i>or</i>, Schiller, the Maid of -Orleans; Goethe, Hermann and Dorothea, -<i>or</i> Lessing, Nathan der Weise; Goethe, -Wahrheit und Dichtung, Books i.-iv., with -a general acquaintance with the History of -the Classical period of German Literature -(from Klopstock to Goethe); unseen passages -of German.</p> - -</div> - -<p>(3) The Elements of Political Economy, to be read in Fawcett’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -Manual, and Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Nations,” -Books i. and ii.</p> - -<p>(4) Either Stephen’s “Blackstone,” Book ii., <i>or</i> Justinian’s -“Institutes,” omitting from Book ii., tit. 11, to Book -iii., tit. 12.</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Group C.</span></p> - -<p>(1) The Elements of Geometry, including Geometrical -Trigonometry.</p> - -<p>(2) The Elements of Mechanics, solid and fluid, treated -mathematically.</p> - -<p>(3) The Elements of Chemistry, with a practical examination.</p> - -<p>(4) The Elements of Physics, not necessarily treated mathematically.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Of the above subjects in the three groups each -candidate is examined in three, of which not more -than two can be taken from any one of the three -groups, and of which one must be either A (1) or -B (2). The examinations in the three subjects -may be passed in separate terms.</p> - -<p>The commonest selections made are as follows:—</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Group A</span> (1).</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Group B</span> (3) and (4).</p> - -<p>Those men who prefer History will naturally -offer the outlines of Ancient History, as it works -well with the text-books in Group A (1). Those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -who are going to the Bar or to be admitted as -solicitors will naturally offer one of the branches -of Law, the Roman Law being especially the -favourite with Bar-students, as the Roman Law -Bar Examination may be studied for and passed -almost simultaneously. The choice for the Classman -lies among the following:—</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>1. <span class="smcap">Literæ Humaniores</span>, including—</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(1) The Greek and Latin Languages.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) Specified books and books not specially -offered.</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) Translations into Greek and Latin Prose.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(2) The Histories of Ancient Greece and Rome.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) Specified periods.</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) General knowledge of Classical Geography -and Antiquities.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(3) Philosophy.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) Logic.</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) The outlines of Moral Philosophy.</p> - -<p>(<i>c</i>) The outlines of Political Philosophy.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<p>3. <span class="smcap">Mathematics.</span></p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) Elementary Pure Mathematics.</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) Elementary Mechanics of Solid and Fluid -Bodies.</p> - -<p>(<i>c</i>) Pure Mathematics.</p> - -<p>(<i>d</i>) Mechanics of Solid and Fluid Bodies.</p> - -<p>(<i>e</i>) Optics, Geometrical and Physical.</p> - -<p>(<i>f</i>) Newton’s Principia and Astronomy.</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> - -<p>4. <span class="smcap">Natural Science.</span></p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<table summary="Natural Science" class="small"> - <tr> - <td>Preliminary:</td><td>Mechanics.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td><td>Physics.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td><td>Chemistry.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Final:</td><td>Physics.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td><td>Chemistry.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td><td>Biology.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -</div> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>And the following special subjects:—</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) Crystallography and Mineralogy.</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) Geology and Palæontology.</p> - -<p>(<i>c</i>) Zoology.</p> - -<p>(<i>d</i>) Botany.</p> - -</div> - -<p>—taken respectively as supplementary to the general subjects.</p> - -</div> - -<p>5. <span class="smcap">Jurisprudence.</span></p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(1) General Jurisprudence.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>The principles of Jurisprudence, the theory -of Legislation, and the early history of -Legal Institutions. Special reference to -Austin’s Lectures, Bentham’s Principles -of Morals and Legislation, and the works -of Sir Henry Maine.</p> - -</div> - -<p>(2) History of English Law.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) Constitutional Law.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>The leading principles and the following -topics:—Legislative power of Parliament, -the modes in which it is exercised, -and its extent as to territory and persons.</p> - -<p>The prerogatives of the Crown, the privileges -of the Houses of Parliament.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> - -<p>The constitutional position of the Privy -Council, the Ministers of the Crown, -the Established Church, the Courts of -Law, and the Armed Forces.</p> - -<p>Reference to Blackstone or Stephens’ -“Commentaries,” Stubbs’ “Documents -Illustrative of English History,” Hallam’s -“Constitutional History,” and Sir -T. E. May’s “Constitutional History.”</p> - -<p>The following statutes must be carefully -read: Constitutions of Clarendon. Magna -Charta, Stat. Westminster II. 13 Ed. 1, -Stat. 1, c. 24. Petition of Right. Habeas -Corpus Act, 31 Car. II. c. 2. Bill of -Rights, 1 W. and M. Sess. 2, 2. Act of -Settlement, 12 and 13 Will. III. c. 2.</p> - -</div> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) History of the Law of Real Property.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>Reference to Blackstone or Stephens’ -“Commentaries,” Digby’s “Introduction -to the History of Real Property.” -Principal statutes referred to in the latter -must be mastered, and reference may -with advantage be made to Williams’ -“Treatise on the Law of Real Property.”</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<p>(3) Roman Law.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>The Institutes of Gaius.</p> - -<p>The Institutes of Justinian.</p> - -</div> - -<p>(4) English Law.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>The principles of the Law of Contracts.</p> - -</div> - -<p>(5) International Law.</p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) The outlines of International Law as a -system.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) The history of the law relating to seas, ships, -and navigable rivers in time of peace.</p> - -<p>Reference to Woolsey’s “Introduction,” and -Heffter’s “Europäisches Völkerrecht,” -Wheaton’s “Elements,” or “Law of Nations,” -by Sir Travers Twiss. On subject -(<i>b</i>) Ortolan’s “Diplomatie de la Mer,” -livre deuxième.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<p>6. <span class="smcap">Modern History.</span></p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(1) The continuous History of England.</p> - -<p>(2) General History during some selected period.</p> - -<p>(3) A special portion of History or a special Historical -subject, carefully studied with reference to -original authorities.</p> - -<p>(4) Political Economy, Constitutional Law, and Political -and Descriptive Geography.</p> - -<p>(5) A subject or period of Literature (optional).</p> - -</div> - -<p>7. <span class="smcap">Theology.</span></p> - -<div class="subjects"> - -<p>(1) The Holy Scriptures (the New Testament in the -Greek).</p> - -<p>(2) Dogmatic and Symbolic Theology.</p> - -<p>(3) Ecclesiastical History and the Fathers.</p> - -<p>(4) The Evidences of Religion.</p> - -<p>(5) Liturgies.</p> - -<p>(6) Sacred Criticism and the Archæology of the Old -and New Testaments.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Knowledge of Hebrew has great weight in the distribution -of Honours.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Frank had always intended to go in for one of -the Honour Schools, but agreed with his father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -that there was no necessity to avail himself of -the longest allowance of time granted. He need -not present himself for three years, but his father -decided that two years was quite long enough, in -addition to the year he had already spent. He -must do what he could in the two years.</p> - -<p>There was no dispute between father and son. -Their views corresponded. Frank was to be called -to the Bar, and the Honour School of Law was -chosen for the degree. The subjects for this -would, in a great measure, answer the further -purpose of the Bar Call Examination. Mr. Ross -proposed to enter Frank’s name at the Inner -Temple in the ensuing Michaelmas Term. He -should then “eat dinners” during the two years -in which he was reading for his Oxford degree; -that taken, he should have one year’s reading in a -barrister’s chambers. This, he considered, ought -to qualify him not only in book-work, but practically -for a call. Moreover, it would give him -just the necessary time to complete the statutable -number of terms.</p> - -<p>Frank was anxious to enter at once, before the -Trinity Term was over, but on this point his -father was firm. There was no need for such immediate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -hurry. As it was, he would be qualified -for a call, at an age considerably below the -average. Mr. Ross had noticed that the first -Long Vacation had been, comparatively speaking, -wasted. He had said nothing, but had resolved -that the second and third should not be a repetition -of the first. He therefore directed Frank to -write to his college tutor, Mr. Woods, for particulars -of the subjects for the Honour Law School, -and for advice as to a “coach” for part of the -Long Vacation; and he himself wrote to his -old friend, Mr. Wodehouse, on the latter point.</p> - -<p>Frank’s letter from Mr. Woods was as follows:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right">“Paul’s.</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Ross</span>,—I am very glad to hear that you have -so soon made up your mind as to the subjects in which you -propose to take your degree; and I have no doubt your -father’s plan of entering you at the Inner Temple next -Michaelmas Term is a wise one.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Edwards, of University College, is, I have every -reason to believe, a most advisable Law ‘coach.’ He is just -now arranging a reading party to Switzerland, and I should -hope your father will consent to your joining. Tell him -from me that reading parties are not what they were in my -undergraduate days—mere pleasure-trips, in which work -forms the very last consideration. The few men now who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -go with a reading party really go to read. You may mention -my name in writing to Mr. Edwards. He will, of course, -furnish you with all particulars.</p> - -<p class="sig">“Believe me, yours sincerely,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">J. Woods</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The letter from Mr. Wodehouse was characteristic:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Ross</span>,—Law is not my line, or I would take -your boy myself; but I know an excellent coach, Edwards -of University, who is now settling a reading party, for -Switzerland, I believe. Send your boy with him; you can’t -do better. I send by this post a copy of the Examination -Regulations, revised to this date. Details, of course, you -will get from Edwards.</p> - -<p class="sig">“I am yours truly,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Philip Wodehouse</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>After the letters, there was not much difficulty -in deciding that Edwards was the coach to be -secured. But the Swiss tour! Frank said nothing, -nor did Mr. Ross—the former because he -knew his father’s disposition, the latter because -he would not promise what he might not be able, -with justice to the rest of his family, to afford.</p> - -<p>However, after a suspense of three days, Frank -was summoned after breakfast to the study. His -father had received a letter from the coach, telling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -him the probable cost of the tour, and he had -decided to send Frank. The party would leave -London on the 1st of July. They were to meet -for dinner at the Grosvenor Hotel at six o’clock, -and go from Victoria by the mail that catches the -night-boat from Dover to Calais. Mr. Edwards -added a few particulars as to books, and, rightly -conjecturing this to be Frank’s first journey -abroad, some suggestions as to clothes and necessaries -generally.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ross winced a little when he heard the -route that was chosen. But when he had made -up his mind to an expense, he was not a man to -worry over the inevitable extras.</p> - -<p>The few days of June that remained passed -quickly enough. Frank, somehow, was not at -home as much as his brothers and sisters could -have wished. At meals there were sundry questions -as to his doings, amused looks at his evident -confusion, till even Mr. Ross, usually oblivious to -the jokes that passed between the young folks, -questioned his wife as to their meaning.</p> - -<p>When he heard the suggestion, he at first -laughed at it as ridiculous, then said the whole -affair was “out of the question,” not from any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -dislike to Rose, for he was indeed very fond of her, -and finally saying he would speak to Frank, said -nothing after all.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was a soft, sweet evening, that of June 30th, -and Frank, having finished his packing, slipped -out unnoticed after dinner. It was a difficult -matter to avoid the prying eyes of his brothers, -but the dessert that evening was unusually absorbing, -and long after Mr. and Mrs. Ross had -left the table, the boys were diligently making -themselves ill. Seizing the opportunity, he -was three fields beyond the paddock before his -absence was even mentioned.</p> - -<p>He was sad, down-hearted, romantically melancholy. -And yet he had a delightful tour through -Switzerland in store. Porchester had never -seemed such a lovely little place. No Swiss -mountains could ever have such beauty as those -soft hills yonder; no glaciers the charm of the -gently flowing river; no Alpine forests the sweetness -of these English meadows, now silvering -with the evening dew, and softening in the falling -mist. He stopped by a gate. He found his -initials cut there, just in one corner out of sight;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -and near them one other letter. Three years ago -he had broken his best knife, and cut his finger, -over that little work. And there it was still—lichened -over now, but still legible. He would -not touch it. He wondered if it would still be -there when he came back. When he came back! -Was the boy going to India for twenty years, or -to the North Pole? Who would touch the letters? -Who would even read them? Who that -came by this way would be likely to stop by that -uninteresting gate, and draw aside those great -dock-leaves merely to see F. R. and R. clumsily -carved? And who, if they saw them, would -trouble to deface them?</p> - -<p>But Frank was in love and was proportionately -melancholy. And lo! as in answer to his -thoughts, softly over the new-cut grass comes the -vicar’s daughter.</p> - -<p>It should be clearly understood that the pathway -along which Rose came so opportunely was -public, though seldom frequented. It led from -the village of Porchester to a ferry, and this carried -you to a hamlet, Wood Green, that lay within -the vicar’s ministrations. Just now there was -illness in the hamlet, and Rose used daily to visit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -the sick. Frank, on no such journeys bent, -passed many hours of those last days of June -about the fields, and crossing and re-crossing in -the ferry-boat. Luckily this was worked by a -marvellous contrivance of wheels, ropes, and poles, -and there was no observant Charon to wonder at, -and then report, the strange and repeated passages -of the lawyer’s son. Last evening, at the -same time and place, he had met Rose: had -told her he was leaving for Switzerland: had gone -so far as to ask her if she was going to Wood -Green the next evening; and she, because she -was Rose, told him yes. Perhaps there was -another reason, the cause of which lay in him. -But she never speculated. He had asked her, -and she had told him. She was going to Wood -Green, and why not say so?</p> - -<p>They walked slowly, oh! so slowly, across the -misty meadows. They crossed, as lazily as the -stream would suffer them, the little ferry. They -reached Wood Green. It was only a basket and -a message that Rose had to deliver to-night, and -Frank had not long to wait at the little white -wicket at Vowles’s cottage. Then back again, -across the ferry, and up the fields; and then, just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -by the gateway where they had met, they stopped, -and he showed her something, pulling aside the -gigantic dock-leaves—three letters, rudely cut, -and covered with lichen.</p> - -<p>“I cut them three years ago,” he said. “Was -it very silly?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” she answered.</p> - -<p>“I loved you then, Rose,” he said softly, taking -her hand, “but I love you a thousand times more -now, darling.”</p> - -<p>And Rose has told him something that makes -him utterly happy—something they have known -these many weeks, but neither has dared to express. -They are but children, but why should they -not be happy? Only boy and girl, but is that any -reason why their love should not be true? And -so they walk back through the deepening summer -night, he as proud as knight of old, and she as -happy as any “fair ladye.” And then by the -vicarage garden-gate they say good-bye. They -have not thought of the future. The present is -theirs, and that is enough. She is a simple little -village girl, and he an undergraduate; that is -all. But “all” is a great deal to them.</p> - -<p>At six o’clock in the evening of July 1st,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -Edwards and his six pupils dined at the Grosvenor, -wisely and not too well, in view of the passage -that night. The party consisted of Hoskins of -Brasenose, reading for Honours in Law; Lang -and Kingdon of Christ Church, Maude of John’s, -and Royds of Exeter, reading for the Final Pass -Schools; and Frank, who had thus one companion -only in work. Edwards was quite a young man. -He had been married about two years, but left -his wife and child at home. He was just of an -age not to be “donnish,” and yet old enough to -command a certain amount of necessary respect.</p> - -<p>The pecuniary arrangements were as usual. -Each was to pay his own personal expenses, and -tuition-fee to Edwards at the rate of 10<i>l.</i> per -month. But for the sake of convenience he would -make the actual payments, and divide the amounts -weekly.</p> - -<p>At Victoria they broke up, for most of the men -wanted to smoke. Edwards was not a smoker, -and would have travelled to Dover alone had not -Frank got into his compartment. The coach’s -weakness in this respect was the one little difficulty -on the tour, and afforded a fund of amusement -to the rest, who were young enough to regard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -a non-smoker with feelings of surprise. -With the exception of Royds, none of the seven -had ever been abroad. He spoke French slightly, -and had a smattering of German. Edwards -could not speak a word of the former, but knew -enough of the latter for comfort in travelling. -No one else spoke either. Royds plumed himself -on his position of superiority, not without offence -to the rest of the party, who one and all joined in -snubbing him whenever he forgot his relation to -Edwards. He was just a source of a little -“pleasant acidity.”</p> - -<p>“I should advise you to lie down, if you’re inclined -to be sea-sick,” said Royds, for the benefit -of the party generally, when they were on board. -“I never am.”</p> - -<p>Edwards retired to the centre of the boat; -Frank rolled himself in a rug on a bench near the -central deck cabins. The rest again consoled -themselves with cigars. The passage was long, -for the night was foggy; but the water was calm -as a duck-pond. Nevertheless, Royds looked -very pale as he landed at Calais.</p> - -<p>They reached Paris in the early sweetness of -the morning. And what a charm the great city<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -has at that hour, and to first-comers! The -brightness, the laughter, the sunshine of the -town in its life! What a contrast to the death -and dirt of London at such an hour!</p> - -<p>They rushed across to an hotel near the Lyons -Station, and after a hasty breakfast, breaking into -three parties, drove all over the place, seeing, -not “doing,” as much as time allowed. In the -evening they left for Geneva. Here they stayed -two nights, and then went on to Chamounix by -<i>diligence</i>. From Chamounix they ascended the -Montanvert to cross the Mer de Glace.</p> - -<p>This was their first climb. Royds, of course, -had been before; and with quite a paternal air he -selected a guide one evening, and marshalled the -party the following morning. Going up the -pine-woods, their weary eyes were refreshed by the -sight of three female figures. Without confessing -as much to one another, they one and all quickened. -But still those much-wished-for forms retreated, -nor did they stop till the little hut on the -top was reached. And then!—But we draw a -veil. They were charming ladies, and delighted -to see these gay young Englishmen. But, dear -ladies! they were not young. However, they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -were very pleasant, and the sound of the -English tongue has a marvellous charm among -foreigners.</p> - -<p>The following morning, at ten o’clock, the -corner by the Hôtel de l’Union was the centre of -interest for the good folks of Chamounix. There -at the hotel door stood seven sturdy mules and -two guides. And presently, to the infinite delight -of the bystanders, seven young Englishmen, -followed by many packages, emerged and -mounted. They were bound for Martigny, over -the Col de Balme.</p> - -<p>Poor guides! Unaccustomed to such riders, -they started on their journey in happy ignorance. -That evening, at seven o’clock, after -a game struggle to keep within sight of their -charges, they gave it up. And the cavalcade, -headed by Edwards, putting their mules to their -utmost speed (no contemptible pace considering -their day’s work), raced wildly by the wondering -villagers into Martigny. Knapsacks banged and -flapped over the mules’ backs; tutor and pupils -were boys once more, and simply shouted with -delight as they clattered through the quiet streets. -Much to his disgust the great Royds did not come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -in first. His was the worst mule, he explained at -<i>table-d’hôte</i>.</p> - -<p>All slept soundly that night at Martigny.</p> - -<p>There they again fell in with the ladies of -the hut on Montanvert, and talked, with all the -energy of comrades in danger, of the crossing of -the Mer de Glace and the descent of the Mauvais -Pas, to the not-unreasonable amusement of Royds. -Next morning they left for Brieg, going by rail -to Sierre, not without missing the first train, and -imprecating maledictions on the head of the landlord -who, his hotel being somewhat empty, was -constrained to adopt some measures for detaining -his profitable guests. Arrived at Sierre, they -were told the <i>diligence</i> for Brieg had started, and -were offered carriages. A little patience, however, -proved this to be one of the usual misrepresentations, -and in due course, after a hearty <i>déjeûner</i> in -the pretty old inn, they started in the company of -a very fat ecclesiastic and a young and happy -couple of Americans. From Brieg, which they -reached at eight, after heavy rain, they were to -ascend the Bel-alp, where Edwards intended to -stay for a clear fortnight or three weeks for -work.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> - -<p>There was no <i>diligence</i> to the Bel-alp; that -they knew; but they had fondly hoped there was -a carriage-road. They were quickly undeceived. -There was only a bridle-path, and it was now -late and getting dark. But Edwards had resolved -to push on without further delay, and, seeing he -was firm, the landlord of “La Poste” raised no -objections. The heavier luggage was to be carried -up, on the following day. The absolute necessaries -were packed on the sturdy shoulders of two -guides; and at half-past eight the party started. -The rain, which had been falling heavily all the -afternoon, fortunately ceased, but there was no -moon, and the clouds hung thickly. The darkness -intensified the grandeur of the hills and -made the climb seem harder. Once, as they -passed between a cluster of <i>châlets</i>, all dark and -still, the moon struggled into view, and far below -they saw a great white sea; but it was only the -mist that lay along the valley. At half-past ten -they reached the first halting-place, a little <i>châlet</i> -perched on a level plateau. There was no light, -and only the sound of the bells on the cows whose -slumbers they had disturbed. But presently, after -some patient knocking, the door was opened by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -young giant of seven feet, with a sturdy girl at -his side.</p> - -<p>Royds, the officious, the experienced, the polite -traveller, advanced, took off his hat, and made -some remarks in French; but neither host nor -hostess understood him, and the guide’s <i>patois</i> -was necessary to explain. In they all trooped to -the rough, low, wooden room, glad enough to rest. -The wine was sour, but it was the landlord’s best; -and they all made merry. Then one of the guides -sang a Tyrolese ditty, of which the following is a -paraphrase:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“With rifle aye ready,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">A dog of sharp scent,</div> -<div class="verse">And a maiden to love him,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">A lad is content.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“What needs hath the hunter?</div> -<div class="verse indent2">The hunter hath none</div> -<div class="verse">But a nut-brown-eyed maiden,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">A dog, and a gun.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“On Sunday, the church-day,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">To dance we are gone;</div> -<div class="verse">Andrew leads Peggy,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Janet leads John.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And then the guides, the landlord, and his wife<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -all sang together; the young giant representing -the love-sick tenor in such a way as to make -every one shout with laughter:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent5"><i>Tenor.</i> “Out of the Tyrol I come, a long, long way,</div> -<div class="verse indent9">To look for my sweetheart, my little May.</div> -<div class="verse indent3"><i>Bass.</i> What does he say?</div> -<div class="verse"><i>Soprano.</i> Ah, poor lover!</div> -<div class="verse indent4"><i>All.</i> So long, so long he has not seen his love,</div> -<div class="verse indent9">So long he has not seen his love!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent5"><i>Tenor.</i> “As any bright penny was my little Jenny!</div> -<div class="verse indent9">And a dimple was in</div> -<div class="verse indent9">My Jenny’s sweet chin!</div> -<div class="verse indent3"><i>Bass.</i> What does he say?</div> -<div class="verse indent4"><i>All.</i> So long, so long he has not seen his love!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent5"><i>Tenor.</i> “’Tis two long years agone</div> -<div class="verse indent9">Since I left my love alone;</div> -<div class="verse indent9">I’d give my true love’s weight in gold</div> -<div class="verse indent9">Could I her face behold.</div> -<div class="verse indent3"><i>Bass.</i> Hark what he says!</div> -<div class="verse"><i>Soprano.</i> O what a fond lover!</div> -<div class="verse indent4"><i>All.</i> So long, so long he has not seen his love!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And then Edwards sang an English song, the -rest joining in the chorus, to the infinite delight -of the Switzers. After which the guide suggested -moving on.</p> - -<p>At half-past one they reached the Bel-alp, and -found, somewhat to their surprise, that there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -no village, not even a <i>châlet</i>, but only a great inn, -half wooden, half stone. The landlord, a little, -fat, hoarse-speaking man, with a thick black -moustache, and two cow-girls, called chambermaids, -with their faces swathed in flannel, met -them; and presently they slept soundly in their -little bare rooms, with their wooden walls and -ceilings, that made them feel for all the world as -though they were dolls put to bed in boxes.</p> - -<p>But what a view next morning! Down there -in the valley, as they stand at the inn door, they -can just make out where Brieg lies. Beyond, the -entrance to the Simplon Pass; and, over all, the -Matterhorn, Weisshorn, Monte Leone, Mischabel, -and the Fletschhorn. Up behind them towers -the great white Sparrenhorn. Down on the left -crawls the broad Aletsh Glacier, with its huge, -rough, pale-blue waves moving and melting, and -foaming at the “snout” in torrents of stormy -water.</p> - -<p>The inn was full, and three weeks went pleasantly -enough. People came and went, for the -most part bound to or from the Eggisch-horn. -Every now and then there was a brief excitement -caused by the arrival of some friend whom chance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -had brought. Some of the visitors were regularly -settled, and with these the men soon formed -acquaintance: notably, Professor Tyndall, who -was there on one of his usual summer visits, -measuring the motion of the glaciers, and who, as -“Father of the Table-d’hôte,” made the meals -doubly pleasant with his genial talk and merry -laugh. Then there was another, well known in -the public-school world, with his wife—a jolly -pair—and a young couple from Ireland, who, -oddly enough, turned out to be distant connexions -of Lang. The husband fraternized with the men -in their climbs. The wife spent most of her -time rambling along the mountain paths within -easy distance, in which she was not unfrequently -accompanied by Royds, who flattered himself on -being eminently a “ladies’ man.” There were -several old ladies who, each evening, used -to entice the men to whist. Frank usually -was one of those caught. Lang and Maude, -the two lazy ones of the party, always retired -to the smoking-room, whence they never -emerged till midnight. The others, for the most -part, read in the common sitting-room. Edwards -devoted four hours in the morning to his pupils<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>’ -work, from 8 to 12, and one hour before dinner. -Out of respect for Lang and Maude, their -hour was fixed at 11. But, as often as not, -when that hour arrived, on looking out of the -window to call them in, their coach would hear -that they were not down yet, or would see -them strolling casually down the hill to meet the -mules which brought the letters or the day’s provisions -from Brieg.</p> - -<p>“Haven’t got any work ready yet,” would be -Lang’s answer, if Edwards managed to overtake -them.</p> - -<p>“Do you mind taking me after dinner?” from -Maude.</p> - -<p>But in spite of the idleness of these two, the -average amount of work achieved by the party -was very creditable, and Edwards was satisfied.</p> - -<p>At the end of the fixed three weeks, to the great -regret of the landlord (for he found the young -Oxonians thirsty to a degree) and of most of the -guests, the party departed. They went as they -came, on foot, with a couple of horses to carry -their luggage, and a couple of guides to carry -Lang, who had contrived to strain his ankle. -They slept one night in Brieg—a short, restless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -night, with the <i>diligences</i> rolling through the -streets and clattering into the courtyards, with -jingling bells and cracking whips, the shouts of -the drivers, and the agonized voices of weary and -confused travellers. At six, in the fresh clear -dawn, they took the <i>diligence</i> for the Rhone Glacier, -and thence over the Furka to Andermatt. -There, also, they slept one night—in fact, slept -so soundly that when the <i>diligence</i> started next -morning for Flüelen by the St. Gothard Pass, -Edwards, Frank, and Royds alone were in time -for breakfast and for choice of seats; Hoskins -and Kingdon only saved their seats by chasing -the <i>diligence</i> after it had started; while the first -that Lang and Maude saw of the morning was the -sight of the <i>diligence</i> turning a corner, with three -of their companions seated outside, and two running -frantically after it. But they consoled themselves -with the reflection that this delay would -furnish them with an excellent excuse for “cutting” -the next day’s lesson with Edwards. Frank -was separated from the rest of the party, having -for his companion a little soldier who spoke neither -French nor German, but an unintelligible <i>patois</i> -which made conversation impossible.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> - -<p>About ten o’clock they passed Altdorf. The -little town looked so bright and gay, full of -reverence for its William Tell, and ignorant of, or -despising, the knowledge that makes his story a -myth. Thence to Flüelen, and thence over the -clear waters of the Vierwaldstätter See to Lucerne. -What a change from the Bel-alp! Here -all is softened—grown Italian almost. Just in -the distance a few snowy peaks; but the frowning -heights have melted to soft wooded hills—running -down to look at themselves in the glassy -mirror. Lucerne was reached about one o’clock; -and here, at the Englischer Hof, right on the -quay, a hospitable welcome met them.</p> - -<p>Lang and Maude revelled in the change. For -them the Bel-alp was too cold, too dull; but here -they had the lake, the shops, the <i>cafés</i>, the band -at night, and all those countless charms which no -English town seems to possess. Here even Frank -relaxed a little. They made excursions every day, -for the most part in the comfortable little steamers. -They went up the Rigi luxuriously in the train. -Edwards, Royds, and Frank climbed Pilatus; the -rest were content with the Rigi. They bought -presents, useless as well as useful; they strummed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -on the <i>salon</i> piano, and sang in broken German, -to the intense delight of the waiters. They spent -the evenings invariably in a little <i>café</i> round the -corner, where Gretchen’s merry black eyes flashed -from one to another, hardly divining the relationship -of the party; or, if not there, on the <i>boulevard</i>, -listening to the band; and sometimes on -the lake; and it was on one of these occasions -that Edwards astonished them by his vocal as -well as his poetical powers.</p> - -<p>He called his song, “The Lay of the Vice-Chancellor,” -and it ran as follows:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“I’ve sung you many a ditty, some stupid and some witty,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">In our snug and cosy common-rooms after dinner many a day;</div> -<div class="verse">But there’s one I have omitted, of a blunder I committed,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">That may serve you as a warning, and may while an hour away.</div> -<div class="verse">When I was young and hearty, I took a reading party</div> -<div class="verse right">(“Hear, hear!” from the audience)</div> -<div class="verse indent2">To study in America one summer long ago;</div> -<div class="verse">And while out there we tarried, I went—and—I got married,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And what that is, my bachelors, you very little know.</div> -<div class="verse">But upon that little portion of my most unhappy tale,</div> -<div class="verse">Will you kindly, will you kindly draw a veil, draw a veil?</div> -<div class="verse indent4"><i>Chorus.</i>—Draw a veil! draw a veil!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>“But oh! when I reflected that I should be expected</div> -<div class="verse indent2">To forfeit either Fellowship or wife,</div> -<div class="verse">I thought ’twould be a pity she should leave her native city</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And be tied to an old tutor all her life.</div> -<div class="verse">When I pictured you all cosy, at your port wine old and rosy,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And I was at cold mutton, and romance was growing cool—</div> -<div class="verse">When I thought of you so gaily dining gloriously daily,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">I took a <i>single</i> cabin in a ship for Liverpool.</div> -<div class="verse">But upon the mix’d emotions of my hurried homeward sail,</div> -<div class="verse">Will you kindly, will you kindly draw a veil, draw a veil?</div> -<div class="verse indent4"><i>Chorus</i> (<i>very gently</i>).—Draw a veil! draw a veil!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Since then, by her unhamper’d, up fame’s ladder I have scamper’d,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And run through all our snug berths in a trice;</div> -<div class="verse">I’ve been Bursar, Dean, Professor, Public Orator, Assessor,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And sat on a commission once or twice.</div> -<div class="verse">I’ve told quite different stories to the Liberals and Tories;</div> -<div class="verse indent2">I’ve snarl’d among the Radicals, “Retrench!”</div> -<div class="verse">But I really should not wonder if my friend Lord Blood-and-Thunder,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">On the very next occasion, should transfer me to the Bench.</div> -<div class="verse">So really let me beg you on <i>that</i> portion of my tale,</div> -<div class="verse">Will you kindly, will you kindly draw a veil, draw a veil?</div> -<div class="verse indent4"><i>Chorus.</i>—Draw a veil! draw a veil!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>When they were all back again in Oxford, even -many terms afterwards, “Draw a veil” was always -a sort of pass-word between them.</p> - -<p>A fortnight soon passed, and they travelled together -to Paris. Here they parted, Frank going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -straight to Porchester, Edwards to Oxford. Frank -had made a good start with his law reading, and, -thanks to Edwards’ style of teaching, had -thoroughly grasped all that he had touched, and -what is more, liked his subjects. One practical -point before passing to other scenes: his expenses -were 50<i>l.</i>;—35<i>l.</i> for railway fares, hotel -bills, &c., 15<i>l.</i> to Edwards for tuition.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">IN THE THICK OF IT.</span></h2> - -<p>Paul’s had no Law Lecturers, and Frank was -therefore compelled to “put on a coach.” He accordingly -wrote to Edwards, a week before term -commenced, to arrange with him. Much to his -surprise, the College offered to pay half the fee -on his behalf, which after all was but fair, considering -that he had to pay his College tuition -fees, although there were no lectures for him. -By Edwards’ advice he attended certain of the -Law Professors’ Lectures, which were open to the -University at large—in some cases on payment of -1<i>l.</i>, in others free. Six hours in each week were -spent at these, and three hours with Edwards; -and with a daily average of four hours’ private -reading he considered he was industrious. His -degree seemed so far off. He would work more -when the time was drawing nearer. So he -consoled himself, and so the time went by.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> - -<p>Of Crawford he saw little, for it was his -last term, and he was in for Honours in the Final -Classical Schools in November. But on Sunday -they used to lunch together—alternately in one -another’s rooms—and go for a long constitutional -afterwards. To Crawford alone of his many friends -he confided his hopes. To him alone he told -his dreams of Rose, of their engagement, and -even of the marriage in the future. And Crawford -never laughed at him, or pooh-poohed the notion -as a boyish fancy; for he saw that if there was -one thing more than another which would keep -him straight, and make him stick to his work, -it was the hope of one day making a home -for Rose. But the Bar! How hopeless it -seemed! To talk of marriage, at least three -years before the wig could be worn, much less -a brief gained! Still the boy was hopeful. And -why damp his energy? Besides, Crawford had a -belief—he knew it was not a prevalent one—that -though there are so many barristers, the Bar as a -profession is not really so crowded as the world -believes; that if you eliminate the large numbers -of so-called barristers who live by their pen, by -speculating—by anything, in fact, except the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -profession they claim, the number of men left -is by no means large enough to do the work that -offers. Again, he knew that he came of a -family of lawyers, with large firms in various -towns, and at least one of considerable eminence -in London. So that altogether he by no -means considered the boy’s ambitions and dreams -as baseless or silly. As for himself, he hardly -cared to confess his hopes. But Frank had always -placed him, in anticipation, in the position Crawford -secretly desired. He seemed fitted in every -way for a Fellowship and Tutorship. To begin -with, he was a gentleman in birth and in heart. -He would therefore know how to feel with, and -for, all the various grades of men with whom -he would come in contact: unlike the many -who, with neither the breeding nor the feelings -of gentlemen, have nothing but their intellectual -supremacy to recommend them.</p> - -<p>As to Crawford’s intellectual powers, he had -already given ample proof. He had taken a first -class in Classical Moderations. He had won -the Chancellor’s prize for Latin Verse, and had -been <i>proxime accessit</i> for the Stanhope Essay. -And then, to crown all, from the boyish undergraduate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -point of view, he had rowed in his -College Eight, and won the Diamond Sculls -at Henley. Why, he was the very <i>beau-ideal</i> of a -Fellow. A handsome, clever, athletic English gentleman. -Oxford has had many such, and, thank -God, she has them still. Men who consider a fellowship -and tutorship a sacred trust; who look -upon the undergraduates as friends to be helped, -guided, and taught, but not in mere learning for -the schools; who will draw out, not crush, the -fresh hopefulness of youth; who will cheer, not -cloud, boys’ ambitions; who will look for good -qualities, not watch and wait for errors; whose -chief thought will be what good they can do, and -not what fines they can impose.</p> - -<p>“Do you see much of Monkton now?” -Crawford asked, as they were walking to Godstow -by the upper river.</p> - -<p>“Very little,” said Frank. “I can’t think -what he does with himself.”</p> - -<p>“Not much, I fancy. I see him loafing occasionally, -and I believe that’s pretty nearly all he -does. However, I’m glad you don’t see much -of him.” And Crawford changed the subject.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -“What’s this I hear of you and the <i>Undergraduates’ -Journal</i>? You don’t mean to say you’ve taken to -write in it? I should have thought you had -work enough to do.”</p> - -<p>Frank got red and confused.</p> - -<p>“Well, the fact is—I have written a few things; -but it didn’t take much time.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! that’s just where it is,” said Crawford. -“If you do anything of that sort at all, it’s worth -doing well—just as everything is, for the matter -of that. You haven’t time to do it well, and you -square the matter by doing it hurriedly. You’d -far better stick to your Law reading.”</p> - -<p>“I say, old fellow,” remonstrated Frank, “I -didn’t come out for a lecture. You’re a regular -old school-master. I only wrote three little poems, -or ‘sets of verses’ as I suppose I ought to call ’em: -that’s the extent of my writing.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Crawford, somewhat mollified. -“Well, take my advice; get your degree first and -write afterwards.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all very well,” retorted Frank; “but -I should like to know how you expect a fellow to -be able to write without practice? Reading Law -and writing answers to papers don’t help one.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> -<p>“I don’t think we’ll discuss the question any -further,” answered Crawford. “You want to -marry Rose, I know, as quickly as possible. Well, -my opinion is that you’ll do it a great deal more -quickly by reading Law than by writing poetry.”</p> - -<p>Frank was silent. There was truth in what -Crawford said, he knew; but he could not help -writing poetry. And whether he will ever be a -known poet, ever succeed in charming the hydra-headed -public, or not, he certainly had one -requisite in a maker—spontaneity. Rose, of -course, considered him a poet in the highest -sense of the term. In fact, she cared for no -poetry but his, which speaks volumes for her -affection, but little for her powers of criticism. -But if lovers are to be critics, Love may as well go -to Mr. Critchet, and be operated on for cataract.</p> - -<p>Term, with all its activity, was passing quickly. -Every day till two o’clock Frank devoted himself -to his work. From two till five he rowed, or -practised at the butts. From five till six he -usually spent at the Union, reading the papers or -magazines. Dinner at six. He did not do much -work in the evening, for various reasons—chiefly, -because he was too lazy—excusing himself because -he thought his eyes were weak; and partly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -because of various engagements. On Tuesday -evening there was either a regular Apollo -lodge-meeting, or a lodge of instruction. Monday, -the Paul’s Debating Society. Wednesday, the -practice of the Philharmonic, a somewhat different -form of excitement from the usual undergraduate -amusements, owing to the presence of a large -number of ladies. Thursday, the debate at the -Union, in which he usually took part. Friday -and Saturday had no definite fixture; but then -there was always something in the shape of -nondescript entertainment at the “Vic.,” or -concert at the Town Hall or Corn Exchange; -or else there was a friend to be asked to dinner -in Hall, or an invitation to dinner to accept. -Altogether, his evening work never amounted to -more than one hour on the average.</p> - -<p>One evening, seeing a large poster announcing -a performance by “the great Bounce,” he turned -up the narrow little passage which leads from -Magdalen Street to the “gaff” that is dignified by -the name of theatre. Here, by permission of the -Very Reverend the Vice-Chancellor, and his -Worship the Mayor—a permission always necessary -and always publicly announced—entertainments<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -of every description, as long as they are -not stage plays, are performed. Conjurors, -mimics, ventriloquists, mesmerists, Tyrolese -singers, Japanese acrobats, music-hall singers -of every grade and degree, display themselves -before a crowded audience of undergraduates. -But anything so demoralizing as a play of -Shakespeare or other healthy author is strictly -forbidden. The authorities doubtless have their -reasons, but it is somewhat hard to imagine what -those reasons can be. An occasional concert -is given in the Town Hall or Corn Exchange, -to which of course ladies can go; but from -the entertainments in the “Vic.,” good, bad, -or indifferent, they are absolutely debarred. And -in very, very few instances do they miss anything -worth seeing.</p> - -<p>The first person whom Frank recognized on -entering was Monkton, who was sitting in a -stage-box, or at least in what does duty for a -stage-box. He was dressed in a somewhat -startling costume of ginger-colour check; a -bright crimson necktie; his hat well on the side -of his head; an enormous cigar in his mouth, -which he appeared to be sucking rather than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -smoking. Between his knees, a gigantic bull-dog, -whose efforts to plunge upon the stage or -into the orchestra he was with difficulty controlling. -Another man sat with him, dressed, if it -were possible, in louder style than he; and from -the tone of their voices they appeared not a little -pleased with themselves and with the impression -they were creating. The theatre was crammed -from floor to ceiling; the University element -decidedly predominating; the town being represented -by a gallery full of that peculiar style of -cad and cadger for which Oxford seems so -famous. The smoke from pipes and cigars was -far too thick to allow of recognition except at a -very short distance; and Frank was much -relieved to find that Monkton did not “spot” -him.</p> - -<p>We need not describe the performance. The -vulgar, strutting, swaggering comique, who -supplies in fancied wit what he lacks in voice; -the booming tenor, who yells “Tom Bowling” -to give respectability to the entertainment; the -brazen-throated “lady vocalist,” who disdains to -be called a singer, and who certainly doesn’t -deserve the title, are all too wearisome and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -sickening to merit notice, but for the lamentable -fact that they are patronized by the undergraduate -because the University authorities refuse -to sanction anything better.</p> - -<p>The entertainment had not proceeded very far -before Monkton had attracted the notice of the -“star” of the evening, who, seeing that he had -the audience on his side, commenced, in the -spoken portion of his performance, to chaff “the -gentleman in ginger.” Monkton’s position was -too prominent for him to venture to respond; -perhaps, too, he was not good at repartee. At -all events, he drew back out of sight as far as -possible, contenting himself with allowing his -dog to put his forefeet on the cushion of the box -and to growl an answer to the chaff.</p> - -<p>The next performer happened to be a young -lady not quite so much at her ease as is usual in -these persons. She was evidently frightened at -the dog; and Monkton, seeing his opportunity, -made the brute growl and spring forward as near -the singer as possible. There were loud cries of -“Turn him out!” The singer stopped in the -middle of her song, burst into tears, and ran off -at the wings. The manager came forward and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -expostulated. By this time the gallery was -infuriated. Then Monkton let the dog go, and -with a bound he cleared the orchestra and leapt -on the stage. The manager, in evident trepidation, -rushed off. The orchestra seized their -instruments, and hastily began to decamp; some -one in the confusion turned out most of the gas; -and at that moment a cry of “Proctors!” was -heard.</p> - -<p>It was by the merest chance that the Senior -Proctor happened to be passing, and hearing the -unusual disturbance, and the shouts which were -evidently not shouts of applause, came in. He -sent two of his men to one door, and he himself -with two waited at the principal exit. There -they took everybody’s “name and College,” -giving directions as to the usual call on the -following morning; and then, when the theatre -was emptied, sent for the manager, and learned -the facts of the case. Monkton had, of course, -made his way out with the rest, with no further -notice from the Proctor than they; but his time -was to come.</p> - -<p>There was a great crowd at nine the next -morning at the Senior Proctor’s rooms. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -men went as a matter of form, hardly expecting -to be fined for going to an entertainment sanctioned -by the University, and simply anticipating -an order to attend before the Vice-Chancellor for -an investigation of the <i>fracas</i> of the preceding -evening. Monkton appeared with the rest; and -from the way in which every one gave him the -cold shoulder he saw pretty clearly that no one -would screen him. At twelve o’clock he received -an official notice to answer before the Vice-Chancellor -to the charge of setting and inciting a bull-dog, -with intent to do bodily injury, and so forth.</p> - -<p>At eleven o’clock on the following day there -was such a crowd as had not been seen in the -Vice-Chancellor’s Court for many a long day. -The case was investigated as before a magistrate, -the Vice-Chancellor being <i>ex officio</i> a justice of -the peace for the city of Oxford, with, however, -far greater powers. There were plenty of undergraduates -who gave evidence in support of the -charge, and the manager and singers gladly -exonerated the rest of the audience. It was -acknowledged on all sides that neither Monkton -nor the “star” comique put in so easy and unembarrassed -an appearance before the Very Reverend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -the Vice-Chancellor and the Proctors as they did -in their respective positions on the eventful evening. -It was in vain that Monkton’s solicitor -urged provocation on the part of the “star.” There -were plenty of men ready to testify that they -too had been chaffed. The Vice-Chancellor gave -the defendant a sharp reprimand, fined him 5<i>l.</i>, -and “sent him down for a term.”</p> - -<p>The Proctor’s summons to the rest of the men -was allowed to pass, and they heard no more of -the matter.</p> - -<p>The Michaelmas Law Term commenced on the -2nd of November, and Frank obtained leave from -the Dean to go to town to enter at the Inner -Temple and eat his first three dinners. He left -at 9 a.m., with feelings somewhat akin to those -he had on starting from home for matriculation, -with the important difference, however, that there -was no examination to face. His father met him -at Paddington, and they drove straight to the -Temple. At the gate of the “Inner” they found -the two friends who had promised to be sureties -for the payment of fees. With them they went -to the Steward’s office, and there Frank presented -a paper signed by the Dean of Paul’s to the effect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -that he had passed a Public Examination at -Oxford. This exempted him from any examination -on admission as a student of the Inns of -Court. On payment of one guinea he obtained a -form of admission, to be signed by two barristers -to vouch for his respectability, with which he and -his father went to the chambers of two friends, -who gave the necessary signatures; then back -again to the Treasurer’s office, where the two -sureties entered into a bond to the amount of -50<i>l.</i>; and by a further payment of five guineas for -the privilege of attending the Public Lectures -of the Law Professors, and 35<i>l.</i> 6<i>s.</i> 5<i>d.</i> for fees -and stamp on admission, the whole business was -complete, and Frank was a student of the Honourable -Society of the Inner Temple.</p> - -<p>A little pleasant chaff about the woolsack, and -the quartet broke up, the two sureties to their -respective businesses, Frank and his father to -lunch. Then Mr. Ross took a cab to Paddington, -leaving Frank at the door of Maskelyne and -Cooke’s mysterious entertainment, where he proposed -a little mild dissipation till it was time to -go down to the Temple to dine.</p> - -<p>Hurrying through the crowd of students and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -newspaper-boys at the lodge just before six -o’clock, he met three friends, and the usual expressions -of mutual surprise were uttered. They -agreed to make up a mess together, and certainly -would not have accepted the definition of a -mess as “a party of four who eye each other -with feelings of mutual distrust and suspicion.” -Frank, as freshman, had to “stand” the orthodox -bottle of wine, and felt quite like an old fogey as -he “took wine” with the three. With the exception -of wine, and the power of sending for -various sorts of liquors, the dinner was very much -the same as the usual dinner in Hall at Oxford. -The servants were better dressed, but waited -worse. There was more order, from the fact that -everybody has to be present at grace before and -after meat, failing which, the dinner does not -count. Then the diversity of age and style of -men struck Frank. Old men and beardless boys -sitting side by side, wearing the student’s gown; -mild-looking students with pale faces and spectacles; -fast men, in whom the notion of study -seemed a ridiculous anomaly; dark faces from -the East; and even a few of the thick lips from -Africa. All the rest—the Benchers at the high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -table, the portraits overhead, the coloured -windows, the fretted roof, the carved panelling—it -was all familiar; Oxford over again, simply -transplanted to the very heart of London.</p> - -<p>After dinner they went to a theatre, and after -that Frank was initiated into the mysteries of -Evans’s.</p> - -<p>The three evenings passed all too quickly, and -he was once more in Oxford, with the sense of -having at least made one distinct step towards -winning Rose, even though it was such a -matter-of-fact affair as the eating of three -dinners.</p> - -<p>There was not much to mark the succeeding -Lent Term. There were the “Torpids” as usual, -in which Frank again rowed, and with such decided -improvement that he was considered safe -for the “Eight” in the summer term. There was -the ordinary scarlet-fever scare; a suicide of a -studious undergraduate, the annual result of the -climate, and the Lenten depression of the social -atmosphere; and there were the Christ-Church -Grinds,<a name="FNanchor_12" id="FNanchor_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> and the Brasenose Ale Festival on Shrove -Tuesday.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> - -<p>To the former Frank went, surreptitiously of -course, for the Grinds are with annual regularity -forbidden, but with equal regularity carried out. -The Proctors for the time being were not over-sharp, -and imagined that the simplest and easiest -way to catch the men coming home from Aylesbury -was to go to the station and meet the in-trains. -But, strange to relate, not a single undergraduate -was to be found! Innocently confessing -his failure on the following evening in -Common Room, the Senior Proctor drew upon -himself the ridicule of one of the older fellows, a -sporting man, and the “inextinguishable laughter” -of the rest.</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean to say you expected to find -them at the station? Why, man alive! what is -easier than to tip the guard and engine-driver -half-a-sovereign, and have the train stopped just -by the Goods-station?”</p> - -<p>The Senior Proctor mentally resolved to be -sharper in future. He was sharper—when he -caught men. But his sharpness was the sharpness -of acidity and not of acuteness.</p> - -<p>The Brasenose Ale Festival is simply ordinary -dinner in Hall, at which some special ale, brewed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -by the College and kept for high occasions, is -given in unlimited quantities to the undergraduates. -Possibly the most important feature (certainly -it is the most uncommon) is the fact of -the ale being given. Anything not paid for is a -fact so rare that of itself it deserves a festival -to commemorate it. The ale is celebrated in a -poem which is supposed to be written by the -College Butler. College Butlers being, however, -not necessarily gifted with the poetic faculty, the -honour or duty is deputed to some undergraduate. -The merits of the verses vary, apparently with -the quality of the ale, which is sometimes good, -often bad, and usually indifferent. In a collection -of the productions of the laureates of the barrel, -lately published, are verses by Bishop Heber, by -Garbett, once Professor of Poetry, and others of -less reputation. The various later authors may be -found in country rectories, doubtless endeavouring -on temperance principles to counteract the -effects of the obnoxious liquor, which in the days -of their youth they celebrated in such festive -fashion.</p> - -<p>The College bounty did not stop short, however, -at ale; cakes of ample proportions were cut up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -and distributed. But when all rose to bless the -indirect giver, and the direct benefactor, it must -of course have been indigestion or malicious -scepticism which made Frank’s host whisper to -him,—</p> - -<p>“I wonder what the difference is between the -pecuniary value of the bequest, when it was made -to the College, and its present value.”</p> - -<p>Frank, not being able to hazard a conjecture, -made the most apposite remark his state of ignorance -allowed,—</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> -<p>“You’d better ask the Bursar.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE CLOSE.</span></h2> - -<p>Frank read with Edwards in the Summer term, -the College again paying half the fee. He rowed -in the Eights, and Paul’s made four bumps, thereby -getting head of the river. To commemorate the -event a “bump-supper” was given. All the men, -with the exception of a very few, subscribed the -necessary guinea, and, as many brought guests, -the supper was emphatically a success. The exceptions -were of the three ordinary types: those -who could not afford a guinea for such a purpose, -and who were not ashamed to say so; those who -considered “bump-suppers” and such-like entertainments -as immoral orgies; and lastly, those who -both enjoyed them and who could afford to subscribe, -but who were too mean to do so, and -preferred rather to extract an invitation to another -college bump-supper in the specious manner which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -usually characterizes the tight-fingered. The -Dons readily gave permission for the use of the -hall, with certain provisos as to time of termination -of the feast. Cooks and scouts vied with one -another, in a spirit not altogether disinterested, -in supplying and laying out the best that the -College kitchen could provide. A gorgeous -dessert was ordered from a neighbouring confectioner, -and wine came in without stint or stay. -Slap’s<a name="FNanchor_13" id="FNanchor_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> excellent band was engaged, and discoursed -most sweet music from time to time -during the evening. And then, what speeches -were made! What songs were sung! How -they all cheered when the captain of the boat-club -returned thanks! And—tell it not in the Common -Room, whisper it not to the Dons (for the very -simple reason that they know by experience what -it all means)—what aching eyes, what cracking -heads, what foul and furry tongues there were -next morning! Nor did the store of College -legends fail to receive the additions usual on such -occasions; and one story even reached the -Master’s ears: how that the captain of the boat-club<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -was observed, long after the last guest had -passed the porter’s lodge, sitting in a corner of -one of the back quadrangles, rowing with all his -might at an imaginary oar, shouting every now -and then to “bow” to keep time, and telling the -“cox” not to put the rudder on so sharp.</p> - -<p>Frank did not stay up for Commemoration; -that he reserved as a pleasure for the following -year. His final examination would then be over, -and he would be able to enjoy all the fun -and gaiety in his new glory as Bachelor of -Arts. Before going down he had a consultation -with Edwards as to his work in the “Long.” -The latter was again going to take a reading -party abroad, but he advised Frank not to join; -he told him that in his present state of progress -he could do more work at home. Frank was -relieved by the advice, for he knew his father -could not afford to send him abroad again. But -he felt he might close with Edwards’ proposal to -come up a month before the Michaelmas Term -began, chiefly for the purpose of making his work -safe for the first Bar Examination in Roman Law, -which was fixed for the end of October. Edwards -wished him to go in for this on his first opportunity;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -for he felt that, apart from the direct -advantage in passing, the examination would -prove of service as a partial test for the final -Oxford Examination in the ensuing summer.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ross was not only satisfied but pleased with -the scheme for Frank’s work. He was a man -who always looked ahead and tried to map out the -future. He felt that men for the most part create -their own future, and that where the object in -view is clearly marked out, and the means to that -object carefully weighed and chosen with firm -determination, chance is but a trifling factor in -a man’s career. He loathed that comfortable -philosophy which folds its hands and leaves -“Time and the hour” to work for one. So far -his plans had been fulfilled; and if this had -made him somewhat dogmatic and obstinately -fond of insisting that “anything can be done if -only there is the will to do it,” it had, at all events, -taught his children the lesson of dogged perseverance -and the value of far-sightedness.</p> - -<p>Frank spent a pleasant “Long” vacation. He -had plenty of cricket and boating; he saw Rose -at least three times every week. There were -endless picnics and lawn-tennis parties. Above<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -all, he got through a good deal of reading. During -the three months he was at home he worked, -on an average, five hours every day; but by -judiciously arranging these he always found -plenty of time for amusements. He bathed in -the river, wet or fine, every morning at seven; -read from eight till nine; breakfasted at nine; -read from ten till one. By this plan he always had -done four hours’ work before luncheon; and he -had no difficulty in keeping up his average number -by regulating the rest of his work according to -the general plans for the day’s amusements.</p> - -<p>The month’s reading in Oxford during the -“Long” was, of course, a novelty, but he did not -find the dulness he expected. He saw a good -deal more of Edwards than in his tutorial capacity, -and soon made great friends with his wife; and -as young men are at a premium in Oxford out of -term, his social vanity was flattered by numerous -invitations.</p> - -<p>Towards the latter part of October he went to -town for the Bar Examination. He put up at the -Inns of Court Hotel, to be near Lincoln’s Inn, in -the Hall of which he duly appeared one Saturday -morning at ten o’clock. He saw plenty of familiar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -faces and several friends. One of the examiners -also was an Oxford professor. The paper—there -only was one—was not difficult, and Frank had -very nearly finished when, just on the stroke of -twelve o’clock, he was called up for <i>vivâ voce</i>. -The plan struck him as strange; and as he was -kept waiting for at least twenty minutes, he envied -the other candidates who were still writing -or looking over their papers. His <i>vivâ voce</i>, however, -did not last very long, and he had ample -time to correct his work carefully. Within a -week he received the pleasant news that he had -passed, and went up in November to eat his -dinners, with a certain amount of pride at having -achieved one more distinct step towards his -desired end.</p> - -<p>Not long after this, Crawford, who had taken a -“first” in the summer, gained a Fellowship at -Queen’s; and by an odd coincidence, another -of his friends, Monkton, was sent down about -the same time. His rustication after the escapade -in the theatre had apparently failed to inspire -him with any awe of the University authorities, -and he had scorned the notion of the Proctors -being able to track or catch him in any of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -his favourite haunts, till one night he received -palpable and painful evidence to the contrary. -The matter was promptly settled. He was -summoned before the Vice-Chancellor and the -Proctors privately; his previous offence was -proved against him; a bad report came from his -own college authorities; his name was removed -from the books, and he was told to leave Oxford -at once. The remainder of his history is neither -poetic nor uncommon. He disappeared from the -surface for a season, only to rise, however, on the -tide of a theological college. Thence, having -easily satisfied a bishop—for he was by no means -a fool—he was ordained, and, having passed a few -years as junior curate, was promoted to be his -vicar’s vicegerent, and glided into a more comfortable, -decent existence, much invited and much -beslippered by the ladies of his congregation.</p> - -<p>The spring soon passed away, and with the end -of May all the examinations began.</p> - -<p>Frank felt far more nervous when he appeared -in the Schools for Divinity than subsequently for -Law. Failure in the former would prevent him -from taking his degree that term; and failure was -quite possible even to one who had a very good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -general knowledge of the matter and teaching of -the Bible. It is not easy to see what good is -effected by an examination which induces cramming, -irreverence, and a cordial dislike of its -subject. It certainly furnishes an inexhaustible -store of amusing stories.</p> - -<p>“<i>What do you know of Gamaliel?</i>”</p> - -<p>“It is a mountain in Syria.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Who was Mary Magdalene?</i>”</p> - -<p>“The mother of our Lord.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Who was Zacchæus?</i>”</p> - -<p>“He was the man who climbed up a sycamore-tree, -exclaiming, ‘If they do these things in the -green tree, what will they do in the dry?’”</p> - -<p>“<i>Describe accurately the relations between the -Jews and Samaritans from the earliest periods.</i>”</p> - -<p>“The Jews had no dealings with the Samaritans.”</p> - -<p>“<i>What is the meaning of phylactery?</i>”</p> - -<p>“An establishment where love-philtres were -made. The Pharisees did a good business in -these; hence the expression ‘Make broad your -phylacteries,’ means, ‘Extend your business.’”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> -<p>“<i>Why was our Lord taken before the high priest -first, and not before Pilate?</i>”</p> - -<p>“Because Peter had cut off his servant’s ear.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Who was Malchus?</i>”</p> - -<p>“He was the High priest’s servant whose ear -Peter cut off, and supposed to be the author of a -treatise on population.”</p> - -<p>Frank contributed one to the stock of blunders. -Given the Greek words and asked to explain the -context of “The thorns sprang up and choked -it,” he translated them, “The thieves sprang up and -choked him;” and proceeded to give an elaborate -description of the parable of the Good Samaritan. -He did not, however, end in the legendary manner: -“He took out two pence and gave them to -the host, saying, ‘Whatsoever thou spendest -more, when I come again I will repay thee.’ This -he said, well knowing he should see his face no -more.”</p> - -<p>He answered the rest of the paper, as he -thought, fairly; and, from the short <i>vivâ voce</i> he -had a few days later, inferred that the written -part of his work was better than he imagined; -and two hours afterwards received in exchange -for the customary shilling the much-coveted piece -of blue paper from the patient Parker, clerk of -the schools. A few days elapsed, and then he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -went in for Law. We need not follow him through -all the details. As so often happens, he did -better than he expected in the subjects he feared -most, and worse in those he fancied he should -do better. But on the whole he was satisfied with -his performance. In <i>vivâ voce</i> he considerably -improved his position, and to this he attributed -the fact that when the class-list appeared he found -himself in the second instead of the third class. -A first he had never expected to get; but -Edwards learnt from the examiners that he was -considered a good second-class man, having amply -retrieved in <i>vivâ voce</i> the failure in one of his -papers which had threatened to lower him to the -third.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.<br /> -<span class="smaller">GOWN AT LAST.</span></h2> - -<p>So now it was all over—all the work and -anxiety. The taking of his degree remained, -and—Commemoration. It was Thursday when -the class-list appeared. The following Sunday -was Show Sunday, the semi-official commencement -of the festivities. He telegraphed to his -father: “Have got a second. You must come -up for Commem. I hope to put on my gown on -Thursday.” He telegraphed to Rose. He wrote -a long letter to his mother by that night’s post, -begging her to bring one of his sisters and Rose. -He wrote to Rose herself. He was in a whirl of -excitement, and to conceal his emotion he ordered -an elegant summer suit, which he did not in the -least require, at a most obliging tailor’s not a -hundred yards from St. Mary’s Church. So -obliging was he, in fact, that it is matter of history<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -that when a certain wealthy and aristocratic Irishman, -in a flow of unbounded extravagance, ordered -him to “send in his whole shop,” the tailor, -with undisturbed equanimity, replied, “Certainly, -sir! What time would you like it?”</p> - -<p>The receipt of Frank’s letter, and the request -that his mother would bring Rose, produced a -little commotion. His father still tried to pooh-pooh -the notion of an engagement; but his mother, -who had Frank’s confidence, maintained that, as -far as the two were concerned, the engagement -was a reality, and that it only waited the formal -consent of the parents and the means to marry. -So it was at last decided that Mr. and Mrs. Ross, -and Frank’s elder sister, Mary, would go. The -Vicar, glad of an excuse to visit Oxford again, -agreed to join the party and bring Rose. And -Rose herself—well, there was no need to ask her -consent. On Friday morning a telegram was -despatched to Frank, telling him they were coming -on Saturday evening, and giving him directions -to secure lodgings; and Mary and Rose were together -most of the day and evening, arranging, -selecting, altering, and making various articles of -adornment for the coming gaieties.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<p>Pembroke concert had taken place on Thursday, -Queen’s on Friday, and there was nothing -for Saturday. But that was no loss to Frank’s -party, for they were all too tired for any gaiety -after their long journey. By a fluke—for he -was late in looking for lodgings—he found some -disengaged rooms in Grove Street; and the -shady little corner, so close to the sunny, busy -High, was most pleasant and convenient. After -supper the Vicar went down to Christ-Church -to “look up” some old friends, still in residence -as Senior Students,<a name="FNanchor_14" id="FNanchor_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> and the rest strolled by Merton -to the river. Mr. and Mrs. Ross, not caring -to trust themselves to the boat which Frank had -chosen, wandered round the paths by the Cherwell, -and, after losing themselves by the Botanical -Gardens, eventually got safe to Grove Street. -Frank rowed Rose and Mary down to Sandford, -where he gave them tea in the little inn overlooking -the lock, and then took them round to see the -lasher that has been so fatal to many bright -young lives.</p> - -<p>Coming home, he pointed out to them all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -spots of interest and importance to the rowing -man. The tavern at Iffley where the last of the -Eights starts in the races; the Green Barge, at -the entrance to the “Gut;” the Gut itself, that -terror of young coxswains; the Long Bridges; -the White Willow where the boats make their final -crossing to the Berkshire bank on the journey -home. Every spot had its little history. Here, -in the first Torpids, he had nearly “caught a -crab.” There his crew had made their final -“spirt;” here they had bumped Brasenose, when -the coxswain would not acknowledge the bump. -There “bow” broke his oar, and nearly pitched -out of the boat. Yonder, strolling quietly down -the Berkshire bank, was Harvey, the Humane -Society’s man. There was old George West on -the Brasenose barge; there, just above, was -Timms, the “Father of the Crews,” leading a -quiet time of it, now that the “Eights” and the -“Sculls” and “Pairs”<a name="FNanchor_15" id="FNanchor_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> were over. Frank took -the girls into the ’Varsity barge, and showed -them the pictures of the old “oars,” who had -rowed for Oxford at Henley and Putney; and told -them what little legends had come down to him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -of Chitty and Meade-King, Arkell and Warre, -Morrison and Woodgate; and, coming to later -times, of Tinney, Willan, Yarborough, and Darbishire, -the famous four who, besides their glories -at Putney, licked the Yankees from Harvard; -and, in later times still, of Leslie and Houblon, -Edwards-Moss and Marriott. They were all heroes -to Frank—these “brutal rowing men,” as Mr. -Wilkie Collins deems them—these savages whose -only glory is their brute strength. It has been said -that English battles have been won in the Eton -playing-fields. Possibly the Isis and the Cam -have as much as anything to do with the feats of -dogged endurance and quiet pluck that have made -Alma and Inkerman, Isandula and Rorke’s Drift, -immortal names in the annals of warfare.</p> - -<p>On Sunday they all went to St. Mary’s. The -Vicar’s gown admitted the ladies to the seats -appropriated to the wives of the Masters of Arts, -and Mr. Ross to the seats of the Masters themselves. -Frank, being still <i>de jure</i> an undergraduate, -had to retire to the upstair gallery. -The church was crowded. People were even -standing in the aisles. The sermon, by a silver-haired -professor with a cherubic face, was a discourse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -on friendship, delivered, if somewhat -monotonously, with a delicate utterance and in a -delicate phraseology that was quite too charming; -and if it formed a rather strange contrast -to the anathemas thundered by rural Boanerges -to placid congregations in sweltering country -churches, the contrast was a pleasing one rather -than otherwise.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Ross as they emerged into the -High, “that’s an odd sort of sermon, eh, Vicar?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Ross was a very sound lawyer, but he had -not travelled much, nor had he heard many -sermons other than those of his friend the Vicar. -The Vicar smiled, and continued his explanations -to Mrs. Ross of certain allusions to Oxford -celebrities made by the preacher. Frank also, to -whom his father appealed, had only a commonplace -comment to make. His studies not having -been philosophical, he could not go into raptures -over every utterance of the new Plato.</p> - -<p>The church was even more crowded, if that -were possible, in the afternoon, in spite of the -awkwardness of the hour (two o’clock) and the -heat of the day. And what an assemblage of -famous men was present! Gladstone and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -Tyndall, Lord Selborne and Huxley, Forster and -Sir Stafford Northcote, Sir William Harcourt -and the Oxford Conservative member, all sitting -amicably side by side, listening to one of those -eloquent attacks on men of science which satisfy -and please those for whom they are not needed, -and only amuse those whom they are intended to -convince.</p> - -<p>After the sermon the Vicar and Mr. Ross -betook themselves to the Union, to read the -papers over a cup of coffee; and about a quarter -to five Frank started with his mother, sister, and -Rose, to Magdalen Chapel. Tickets had been, -of course, difficult to get, and with all his exertions -he had only been able to secure two for the choir, -and two for the ante-chapel. The two former -Mrs. Ross and Mary took, without any resistance, -for they knew that Rose would be happier to be -with Frank. How many husbands and wives -come back in after-years to Oxford, to go over -again all the old days, to revisit all the old spots, -to find one particular tree the same, save, like -themselves, a little older; to sit in the same -chapel, and listen perhaps to the very same -anthem they had listened to when they were boy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -and girl, sung by different voices, but for them -the same; to pass the same surly porter, whose -favour can only be purchased; to see the same -placid gardener tidying up the velvet grass under -the grey walls; to hear the same bells ringing; -and, with it all, to feel as young as ever!</p> - -<p>Frank and Rose, as they sat in the dim ante-chapel, -under the great brown window that sheds -such a strange light over all, thought neither of -the past, for that was eclipsed, nor of the future, -for that was uncertain, but just lived in the present. -And if he did hold her hand during most -of the service, nobody saw him, and therefore -nobody’s feelings were outraged.</p> - -<p>Another happy pair emerged from another dim -corner of the ante-chapel, when the service was -over—Crawford and the little lady, who doubtless -has not been forgotten, best known by the -title “Blue-eyes.” She, too, had in attendance -on her a mother and sister; and they, too, had -been sitting in the choir. So that altogether, -when the introductions took place in the cloisters, -all mentally agreed that the party was a most -symmetrical one—two mothers, two sisters, and -two pairs of lovers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> - -<p>After dinner at their respective lodgings the -two parties met in Grove Street, and went to the -Broad Walk to see and contribute to the show of -visitors. The Vicar pronounced a melancholy -eulogium on the glories of past Show Sundays, -from which the present was a sad falling-off, -caused chiefly as he explained by the indiscriminate -admission of the “Town,” and the consequent -absence of the “Gown” element. His hearers, -however, having no historic past with which to -contrast the present, though they listened submissively -to his diatribes, enjoyed themselves -immensely, stared at everybody, wondered, and -questioned.</p> - -<p>All the morning of Monday, Frank was engaged -at a committee meeting of the Masonic Fête, of -which he was a steward: and as he and one or two -others were decidedly opposed to the general plan -of disposal of tickets, the meetings were not so -peaceable as hitherto; he used to return hot, -tired, and annoyed. But Rose’s presence soon -restored him to his wonted equanimity.</p> - -<p>On Monday afternoon there was a concert given -by the Philharmonic Society in the Sheldonian -Theatre, and after a hurried tea he took his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -party to the river to see the procession of boats. -He had tickets for them for the ’Varsity barge, -and having got them good seats at the lower corner, -next to the Brasenose barge, hurried off to -his own barge to put on his boating clothes. To -Rose and Mary, who had never seen any river-boat -except the “tubs” at Porchester, the long -slender craft were objects of much wonder, -and they thoroughly enjoyed the sight of the -many “Eights” and “Torpids” rowing up and -saluting Paul’s, the head boat, which lay close -under the ’Varsity barge. The cox—a facetious -young gentleman—could not resist the pleasure -of shouting every few minutes, “Eyes in the -boat!” as he caught the eyes of his crew wandering -to the many fair faces that were looking down -at them from beneath the awning.</p> - -<p>One by one the boats rowed up—it is to be -feared not in the best style, for the crews were -for the most part mere “scratch” affairs got together -hurriedly for the procession, in the absence -of the regular men who had gone down. One by -one they rowed up to the post opposite to the -’Varsity barge, “easied,” and then, standing up, -raised their oars and saluted the head boat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> “Well -rowed, Paul’s!” to commemorate the honour of -the May races. Rose felt quite flattered, and took -to herself half the honour at least that was being -given to Frank’s boat. The proceeding repeated -by some forty boats was growing somewhat monotonous, -when, to the intense delight and half-terror -of the ladies, one Eight upset—on purpose, -of course; and there was much merriment over -the intentionally assumed danger and frantic -efforts to get out of the crowded water. When -all the boats had saluted, they turned at Folly -Bridge (with what difficulty coxswains know to -their cost), and dropped down the stream to their -respective barges.</p> - -<p>Those who embark on the festivities of Commemoration -have not much time to spend in -dreaming. Rose would fain have gone down the -river quietly in the cool of the evening; and yet—and -yet—the thoughts of dancing were perhaps -sweeter.</p> - -<p>Back to the town streamed the crowds: some -to the Wadham concert; some to rest before -dressing for the University ball; many to summon -up their strength and energy for both. -Among the latter were Mrs. Ross and Mary, Rose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -and Frank. The fathers dined at Christ-Church, -and spent a cosy evening in the Common Room—the -Vicar chatting away unceasingly with old -friends, and Mr. Ross making a very pleasant and -amused listener.</p> - -<p>It was a lovely evening, and most of the people -walked to Wadham—one of the many things that -struck the country folks as strange and yet pleasant. -The concert was held in the College Hall, -beautifully decorated for the purpose. After the -first part, every one adjourned to the gardens, -where refreshments were served in a large tent, -and then wandered about, enjoying the cool air till -the second part began. Frank and his party did -not return to the Hall, but went to the Corn Exchange, -to the University ball. And what a -night they had! He and Rose forgot to count -how many times they danced together. Mary -had partners in abundance, for Frank’s friends -were there in great force; and they were all longing -for a dance with Rose, but had chiefly to console -themselves with Mary, for Frank could not -spare many dances. However, from Mary’s happy -face, as they walked down the High in the sweet -early morning air, Frank inferred that the consoling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -process had been not unpleasant for all -parties concerned.</p> - -<p>Tuesday morning brought the much-needed -rest, taken by some in chairs at home, by others -in punts on the river (Frank and Rose preferred -the latter). Tuesday afternoon—the flower-show -held in the gardens of New College. A Commemoration -flower-show is more than a flower-show. -In fact, the flowers are almost the last -thing regarded. Tuesday evening—New College -concert, always one of the best, and the Masonic -ball. Rose and Mary again in much request, but -the former too deeply engaged to Frank to be -able to spare many dances. To this ball Mr. -Ross, being a Mason, went as a matter of course, -and he even succeeded in enticing the Vicar. -The latter had a lurking love of vestments, but -Porchester gave him no encouragement; here, -however, seeing the aprons and scarves, and the -cloaks of the Templars, he thought he might satisfy -his love. He would be a Mason, and though unable -to disport himself in picturesque attire to his -congregation in church, he might do so to his -heart’s content to his brethren in the secrecy of -lodge-meetings, or the publicity of such a ball as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -this. So strongly was he enamoured of the notion, -that over supper, in a quiet corner with Mr. and -Mrs. Ross, he asked that gentleman to propose -him for election at a lodge in a town not far from -Porchester, of which he was Worshipful Master.</p> - -<p>Then came Wednesday, the day of Encænia, or -Commemoration of the Founders and Benefactors. -Who that has ever been present in the crowded -Sheldonian Theatre can forget the scene? The -jostling, pushing, squeezing that begins before -ten o’clock, though the proceedings themselves -seldom begin before noon; the pause and quiet, -till the boldest undergraduate starts the chaff; -the grave faces of the officials as they hand the -ladies to their seats, half amused, half angry, -when told by some wag in the gallery “not to -squeeze her hand;” the cheers for everybody -and everything that the occasion suggests—“the -ladies in pink,” “the ladies in blue,” “the ladies -who are engaged;” the groans for this statesman, -the cheers for the other, for the ’Varsity Boat -Club, the ’Varsity Eleven, the popular Proctors. -Then the chaff becomes more personal. “When -is the Vice-Chancellor coming?” “Poor old -man, he’s nervous.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> “Has the Senior Proctor -gone to Aylesbury?” (alluding to the Christ-Church -grinds and the Senior Proctor’s failure). -“<i>Dissolvimus hanc Convocationem</i>,” uttered in -imitation of the Vice-Chancellor, and causing -much amusement among the Masters of Arts and -others familiar with the phrase. Just then a -very white-headed gentleman enters the area, and -is met with shouts of “White hat!” “Turn -him out!” For a long time the object of the -shouts is perfectly oblivious. At length he puts -on his hat, and is of course greeted with “Hats -off!” How long the uproar would have continued -is hard to say, had not a huge paper fool’s-cap, -with D.C.L. written on it, been let down from -the gallery. The white-headed gentleman blessed -the circumstance. The cap fluttering downwards -paused, either by accident or design, exactly -opposite one of the galleries where a Master of -Arts on duty as Proproctor for the occasion was -standing, and was waved gently within a few -feet of his face. “Put it on, sir!” now came -from all sides of the upper gallery; and somebody -leaning from above the Vice-Chancellor’s chair, -seizing the opportunity of a second’s lull, said in -a sedate voice,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> “<i>Admitto te ad gradum Doctoris -in jure civili</i>.” All this time the intended recipient -of this most dubious honour was making -frantic clutches at the cap, which it is needless to -state was bobbed up and down in front of him, -while “Let him have it!” “He knows what fits -him!” greeted his indignation, which now scarcely -knew bounds. He dashed upstairs to find the -offender; but, just as his head appeared, the cap -dropped into the area, and his efforts to discover the -author of the offence were fruitless. The entry of -the Vice-Chancellor, followed by the Doctors and -Proctors and various distinguished visitors, and -the pealing of the organ, turned the thoughts of -the undergraduates, and under cover of the music -and applause the irate Proproctor beat an ignominious -retreat. His conduct was not only unpopular -among the undergraduates, but was condemned -by senior and junior graduates alike.</p> - -<p>The Vice-Chancellor, having taken his seat, -opened Convocation with the usual Latin speech. -Dr. Bryce, Regius Professor of Civil Law, then -presented a number of distinguished men—bishops, -judges, statesmen, soldiers, poets, and -historians—and in introducing each alluded in -brief Latin speeches to the peculiar merits that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -had called for the honorary degree of D.C.L.—the -highest honour which the University can -confer. After this the Creweian oration was -delivered by the Public Orator; but as he spoke -in an indistinct voice, and in Latin, the interesting -allusions he made to past and present were -scarcely even heard, much less understood. He -took the chaff hurled at him with profound good -humour, and ignoring the various injunctions to -“Speak up,” and “That will do, sir—now translate!” -hurried bravely on, and finished amid -cheers of satisfaction. Then came the various -prize poems and essays, to none of which, except -to the Newdigate, was the slightest attention -paid. But the Newdigate, though an exceptionally -good poem, was badly read, and most of the -cheers were ironical—all sorts of absurd constructions -being at once fixed upon various lines.</p> - -<p>The Masonic Fête on Wednesday afternoon -was very delightful, but they were getting tired -of the incessant gaiety; and so was the Magdalen -concert and Christ-Church ball on Wednesday -night; but they had had enough of concerts and -enough of dancing, and all their energies and -interest were centred in Thursday morning, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -Frank was to take his degree—a far important -event to Rose than the conferring of honorary -D.C.L. on all the bishops, judges, statesmen, and -soldiers put together.</p> - -<p>It may be convenient here to enumerate -roughly Frank’s expenses during his three years’ -academical career. It will be remembered that -his life has been that of an ordinary undergraduate. -Its cost is therefore considerably in excess of that -of a great many. It is also considerably below the -level of comfort and luxury which in some cases -folly induces, and in others is justified by adequate -means. He came to Oxford not for intellectual -advantages only, nor for social advantages only, -but for both. He wished to be neither a spendthrift -nor a “smug,” and he has been neither.</p> - -<table summary="Frank's expenses"> - <tr> - <td colspan="8" class="tdc"><span class="smcap">College Expenses.</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="8">(<i>a</i>) First outlay</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <th></th><th class="tdr">£</th><th class="tdr"><i>s.</i></th><th class="tdr"><i>d.</i></th><th></th><th class="tdr">£</th><th class="tdr"><i>s.</i></th><th class="tdr"><i>d.</i></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Caution money</td><td class="tdr">30</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Furniture at a valuation</td><td class="tdr">30</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Glass, china, &c.</td><td class="tdr">9</td><td class="tdr">19</td><td class="tdr">6</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Cap and gown</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">6</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Books, sundries, and travelling expenses</td><td class="tdr total1">10</td><td class="tdr total1">0</td><td class="tdr total1">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td><td class="tdr total1">£81</td><td class="tdr total1">2</td><td class="tdr total1">0</td><td></td><td class="tdr">81</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="8"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>(<i>b</i>) Terminal</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Tuition</td><td class="tdr">7</td><td class="tdr">7</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Establishment charges</td><td class="tdr">6</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Room rent</td><td class="tdr">3</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Battels, eight weeks, say at £2</td><td class="tdr">16</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Coals, taking term with term</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Laundress</td><td class="tdr total1">1</td><td class="tdr total1">1</td><td class="tdr total1">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td><td class="tdr">£35</td><td class="tdr">18</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Gratuities to servants</td><td class="tdr total1">2</td><td class="tdr total1">0</td><td class="tdr total1">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td><td class="tdr total1">£37</td><td class="tdr total1">18</td><td class="tdr total1">0</td><td class="tdr">×9<a name="FNanchor_16" id="FNanchor_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> =</td><td class="tdr">341</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>(<i>c</i>) On taking degree of B.A.</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="8" class="tdc"><span class="smcap">University Fees.</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>(<i>a</i>) Matriculation</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="4">(<i>b</i>) Examination Fees</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Responsions</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Moderations</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Rudiments of Faith and Religion</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Honour School of Jurisprudence</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>(<i>c</i>) On taking degree of B.A.</td><td class="tdr">7</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td class="tdr">15</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="8" class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Extra Tuition.</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“Coach” for Moderations</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Reading party to Switzerland</td><td class="tdr">50</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“Coach” for Jurisprudence, six terms, the College paying half, 60 gs.—30 gs.</td><td class="tdr">31</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td class="tdr">92</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="8" class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Personal Expenses.</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Wines and groceries</td><td rowspan="4" style="vertical-align: middle;">70</td><td rowspan="4" style="vertical-align: middle;">0</td><td rowspan="4" style="vertical-align: middle;">0</td><td colspan="4" rowspan="3" class="tdr" style="vertical-align: middle;">For three years</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Clothes and travelling expenses</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Books and stationery</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Subscriptions to clubs and societies</td><td></td><td class="tdr">210</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="8" class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Extra Academical.</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="4">Inner Temple</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Entrance form</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Stamps</td><td class="tdr">25</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">3</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Fees</td><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="indent">Lecture fees</td><td class="tdr total1">5</td><td class="tdr total1">5</td><td class="tdr total1">0</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td><td class="tdr total1">£41</td><td class="tdr total1">12</td><td class="tdr total1">5</td><td></td><td class="tdr">41</td><td class="tdr">12</td><td class="tdr">5</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Annual fees, four terms at</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdr">6</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td></td><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdr">4</td><td class="tdr">4</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>On Thursday morning, having paid to the Dean -the necessary College fee, and from him obtained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -a certificate of twelve terms’ residence, Frank, -duly attired in cap and gown, white tie, and the -statutable garments “of a subfusc hue,” proceeded -to the Apodyterium of the Convocation -House. There he paid the University fee, and -showed to the Registrar the testamurs gained in -Moderations and the Rudiments of Faith and -Religion, and a certificate of his having been -placed in the second class in the Honour School -of Jurisprudence.</p> - -<p>These preliminaries over, he met his party and -took them into the Convocation House. There, -having waited for half an hour, in a crowd that -made moving impossible, and speaking almost a -difficulty, the impatient spectators were informed -that Convocation was removed to the Sheldonian -Theatre, a piece of information certainly welcome, -but one which they thought might have been -given them before.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it need not be said that four hearts at -least were filled to overflowing as Frank went up -with several other Paul’s men to be presented by -the Dean to the Vice-Chancellor, and at least one -pair of bright eyes shone the brighter for the -tears that would rise up in them. And then with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -what pride Frank slipped on his gown and tipped -his scout, William, the customary sovereign, and -what a happy party sat down to lunch in Paul’s! -Crawford was there, the new Fellow of Queen’s, -not yet grown donnish and distant; and little -Blue-eyes too was there, who had made firm -friends with Rose, with whom she talked with -pride of their two lovers.</p> - -<p>In the evening the young people went to Nuneham, -Rose and Mary sitting in the stern, Blue-eyes -in the bows, where she paddled in the water -like a very child; Crawford and Frank rowing. -Mary had brought her sketching-book, and when -they had had tea in the Moss Cottage, and a stroll -was proposed, nothing could induce her to accompany -the others. She wanted to sketch the -rustic bridge and the river, and plenty of time -she found for the purpose. For surely never were -folks so long as Rose and Frank, Blue-eyes and -Crawford, in walking through the lovely Nuneham -woods. Like the bright June leaves that hung -over them, life was young, and fresh, and bright; -sobered, not saddened, by the twilight of earnest -thoughts of the work that lay before them. -Oxford had done her best for these two sons of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -hers; had not soured them; had not robbed -them of their early faith; had not taught them -to posture as the disciples of creeds as meaningless -as they are cold and dead; had not inflated them -with the notion that Oxford thought leads England -and therefore the world; had not elated them -with their academical success; but was sending -them forth full of energy and full of hope, with -the belief that life, that stern hard battle, was -beginning and not ending with the winning of a -degree.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">THE END.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON:<br /> -GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS,<br /> -ST. JOHN’S SQUARE.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The subjects at other colleges are much the same, but -the standard of excellence required varies. No. 2 is usually -omitted.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> At most colleges a reduction is made for scholars and -exhibitioners.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> At some colleges quarterly.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The titles given to the different Heads of Colleges vary. -There is the Warden of New College, the Provost of Oriel, -the President of Trinity, the Master of Balliol, the Principal -of Brasenose, and the Rector of Exeter.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> College bills.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Responsions are obligatory on all except those who have -passed either the Previous Examination at Cambridge, or -the Oxford and Cambridge Schools’ Examination. There -are five separate subjects of examination, in each of which -a candidate must satisfy the Examiners (who, in this case, are -called “Masters of the Schools”). The principle of compensation -is not recognized; failure in any one subject rendering -a candidate liable to a “pluck” (commonly called “plough”). -Subjects:—(1) Algebra: Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication, -Division, Greatest Common Measure, Least Common -Multiple, Fractions, Extraction of Square Root, Simple -Equations containing one or two unknown quantities, and -problems producing such Equations; or Geometry—such an -amount as shall be equivalent to that which is contained in -Euclid I., II. (2) Arithmetic—the whole. (3) Latin and -Greek Grammar. (4) Translation from English into Latin -prose; it is sufficient if the Latin be grammatically written, -without being elegant in style; three or four violations of -the simple rules of Latin Syntax (commonly called “howlers”) -will “plough” a candidate. (5) One Greek and one Latin -Author; candidates are free to offer any standard classical -authors, but the selection is usually made from the following -list:—Homer: any five consecutive books; Æschylus: -any two of the following plays—Agamemnon, Choephoræ, -Eumenides, Prometheus Vinctus, Septem contra Thebas. -Sophocles: any two plays. Euripides: any two of the following—Hecuba, -Medea, Alcestis, Orestes, Phœnissæ, Hippolytus, -Bacchæ. Aristophanes: any two of the following—Nubes, -Ranæ, Acharnenses. Thucydides: any two consecutive -books. Xenophon: Anabasis, any four consecutive -hooks. Æschines: In Ctesiphontem. Virgil: (1) the -Bucolics, with any three consecutive books of the Æneid; -or (2) the Georgics; or (3) any five consecutive books of the -Æneid. Horace: (1) any three books of the Odes, together -with a book of the Satires, or of the Epistles, or the Ars -Poetica; or (2) the Satires with the Ars Poetica; or (3) the -Epistles with the Ars Poetica. Juvenal: the whole except -Satires II., VI., IX. Livy: any two consecutive books, -taken either from Books I.-V., or Books XXI.-XXV. -Cæsar: De Bello Gallico, any four consecutive books. Sallust: -Bellum Catilinarium, and Jugurthinum. Cicero: (1) the -first three Philippics; or (2) De Senectute and De Amicitia; -or (3) four Catiline orations, with the oration Pro Archia. -The books most commonly chosen are Euripides,—Hecuba, -and Alcestis; and one of the combinations in Virgil or -Horace.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Moderations or First Public Examination will be explained -in due course.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Turl Street. High Street is “the High;” Broad Street, -“the Broad,” in Oxford vernacular.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The new Debating Hall, now (October) almost complete, -will provide ample accommodation for visitors.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Now—<i>O tempora! O mores!</i>—defunct.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11" id="Footnote_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> The customary fee for a term’s private tuition, consisting -of three lessons weekly, of one hour each.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12" id="Footnote_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Steeplechases.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13" id="Footnote_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Affectionate abbreviation for Slapoffski, unrivalled in -Oxford, and not unknown outside.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_14" id="Footnote_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Senior Students at Christ-Church correspond to Fellows -at other Colleges.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_15" id="Footnote_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> <i>I.e.</i> races for sculling-boats and pair-oars.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_16" id="Footnote_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Three years contain twelve legal terms, but only nine of -payment, the Easter and Act terms being virtually one in -matter of residence.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Oxford Days, by Frederic Edward Weatherly - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OXFORD DAYS *** - -***** This file should be named 50618-h.htm or 50618-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/6/1/50618/ - -Produced by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet -Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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