-.
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 \
 
 GREAT TOM OF OXFORD. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 GREAT TOM 
 
 OF 
 
 OXFORD. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 PETER PRIGGINS," &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, 
 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1846.
 
 Frederick Sboberl, Jutsior, Printer to His Royal Highness Prince Albert, 
 51, Roriert Street, Haymarket, London.
 
 "PTf 
 
 ¥784 
 
 GREAT TOM OF OXFORD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Voce summa resonans. 
 
 Horace. 
 
 It was on a cold winter's night, about the 
 middle of January, in the year 1 8 — , that I, 
 Mr. Suum Cuique, found myself and my lug- 
 gage (one portmanteau and a box of books) 
 lifted off the roof of the Oxford fly-coach, 
 and deposited at Tom gateway. I was about 
 to enter the University, Christchurch College, 
 and my rooms at one and the same time. I 
 had already been matriculated, and paid my 
 fees and my respects to the Vice-chancellor. 
 I found the latter proceeding, I must confess, 
 much easier and far less expensive than the 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 824 232
 
 2 GREAT TOM 
 
 former ; though I had not so heavy a sum to 
 pay as many who were matriculated with me, 
 because I was about to enter on my college 
 career as a servitor — they call them sizars at 
 Cambridge — whereas those around me were 
 some noblemen, some gentlemen commoners, 
 and others commoners. I did not, of coarse, 
 then know the exact distinction between these 
 ranks ; but, having been educated at a coun- 
 try grammar-school, and consequently imbued 
 with some learning, I gathered enough from 
 the various phases of the Vice-chancellor's 
 face, and from the varied amount of fees paid 
 at the table of the Apodyterium, to convince 
 me that there was a distinction, and that the 
 study of the red-book had interfered with, if 
 not superseded, that of the black-letter vo- 
 lumes in the University. 
 
 I remember well that both the coachman 
 and the guard, when they had deposited me 
 and my luggage, and kicked at the gate to let 
 the porter know some one craved admittance, 
 made me a sort of demi-bow, and touched the 
 brim of their hats. I returned the salute as 
 gracefully as I could, and turned into college
 
 OF OXFORD. 3 
 
 through the small portal in the huge gates, 
 which the college Cerberus had opened for 
 my admission. 
 
 I was gazing, by the solemn light of a 
 January moon, on the solemn scene before 
 me, and wondering why a leaden statue of 
 Mercury in the middle of the Quadrangle 
 should be throwing cold water on the air on 
 such a cold night, when I heard my driver say 
 to the porter, 
 
 " That ere's a downright shabby." 
 
 " Not so much of a screw as a dead nail," 
 added the guard, as he dropped the deal box 
 containing my classics, with an evident inten- 
 tion of smashing its uncorded sides. 
 
 "What! ain't he stood handsome?" in- 
 quired the porter, in tones betokening the 
 height of amazement. 
 
 " Handsome?" cried both coachman and 
 guard ; " vy, he ain't stood nuffin at all !" 
 
 " Not tipped ?" shouted Cerberus in still 
 more energetic tones. 
 
 " No; not even a tanner, though we 
 tipped him the usual signs," said the 
 guard. 
 
 b 2
 
 4 GREAT TOM 
 
 " And I've had the care of his precious 
 carcase for up'ards of fifty mile," said the 
 coachman. 
 
 " And I of his luggidge over the worst 
 ground in the kingdom," added the guard. 
 
 " Let's see who he is," cried the porter, as 
 he rushed into his lodge, and brought out a 
 candle and lantern. He turned the box up 
 so as to get a glimpse of the name upon it ; 
 and, in a tone which vacillated between con- 
 tempt and pity, said, " He's only a servitor, 
 poor devil !" 
 
 " What, a sort of charity-boy, like, eh ?" 
 said the driver. 
 
 " Exactly," said the porter; " carries in 
 the first dish, and eats what's left of the last ; 
 but I'll make him tip for the honour of our 
 house." 
 
 So saying, he advanced towards me ; and, 
 in a more respectful manner than I could 
 reckon upon, he suggested to me — " the ser- 
 vitor, poor devil " — that it was customary to 
 present to the driver and guard of a coach a 
 gratuity in addition to the amount of the 
 fare.
 
 OF OXFORD. 5 
 
 I returned to the gates, and by the light of 
 his lantern contrived, though my hands were 
 benumbed by the cold, to extract from my 
 pockets all the silver I had, which consisted 
 of three bright shillings new from the Mint 
 of King George the Third. I was about to 
 bestow one of them on each of the applicants, 
 when, to my great surprise, the driver said, 
 
 " No, thank ye, sir ; the vill's as good as 
 the deed. Come along, Villiam, ve isn't so 
 bad off in the world as to deprive a poor 
 young chap of a few 'ogs as was evidently 
 given to 'im by 'is poor mother at partin'." 
 
 " Not upon no consideration whatsomdever, 
 Tom," replied the guard. " I'd be pison'd 
 fust." 
 
 So, with a respectful good night, and wish- 
 ing me good luck, they returned to their 
 coach, leaving me not a little surprised at 
 their unexpected considerateness, and humbled 
 at the thought that my poverty should thus 
 be made known on the first day of my appear- 
 ance in college. The porter, too, held his 
 lantern to my face, and I felt he was exa- 
 mining my looks. He doubtless saw the blush
 
 6 GREAT TOM 
 
 of shame that mantled over my cheeks, and 
 it seemed to have a due effect upon him; for, 
 as he turned the key in the lock, he said, in 
 kindly tones that went to my heart, 
 
 " You would be glad to go to bed, sir ? 
 The servants are all gone out of college, but 
 I will light you to your rooms, and bring your 
 luggage up for you." 
 
 I thanked him ; for though I was hungry 
 I was cold and sleepy, and wanted warmth and 
 repose more than I did a supper, for which 
 I was afraid to ask. 
 
 He took up my portmanteau, and, turning 
 to the left, preceded me up the first staircase, 
 observing, as he mounted the stairs, " The 
 rooms are comfortable enough, sir, but rather 
 noisy until you get used to them." 
 
 Of course I could not tell what he meant, 
 as everything was as still as death then ; and 
 when I had entered my rooms, which were 
 close to the tower over the gateway, I found 
 them snugly furnished, and a fire burning in 
 the grate, which, under the skilful pokering 
 of my guide, quickly sent forth a cheerful 
 blaze. Candles were speedily lighted; and,
 
 OF OXFORD. 7 
 
 to my great joy, I found some cold meat and 
 bread put out for me ; a kettle placed on the 
 hob ; and a bottle of something which my 
 guide told me was gin, which my provident 
 scout had procured upon the chance of my 
 being in want of something cheering after my 
 cheerless journey. 
 
 When he had shown me my bedroom — 
 which was a mere closet under the tower — 
 the porter left me to myself. I felt as if 1 
 was alone in the world ; and when I gazed 
 round me and missed the faces of my mother 
 and sisters, my father and brothers, from 
 whom I had never before been separated for 
 any length of time, I burst out into tears 
 which I could not control, and wished that I 
 had not been so successful a scholar as to draw 
 upon me the attention of the gentleman who 
 had solicited and procured for me the small 
 pittance which was to enable me to receive a 
 university education. I was very wretched ; 
 but the brightness of the fire, the tempting 
 appearance of the little supper, and the sing- 
 ing of the kettle on the hob, reminded me 
 that I was master of everything around me,
 
 8 GREAT TOM 
 
 and hungry withal. I fell-to with an appetite 
 that an alderman would envy ; and, after 
 clearing the decks of all the solids, proceeded 
 to do — what I had never done before — make 
 myself a glass of grog. Whether I was or 
 was not a judge of the proportions used in 
 compounding gin-toddy, I cannot say, but I 
 certainly succeeded in manufacturing a goblet 
 of half spirit and half water, with a conside- 
 rable quantity of sugar in it, which seemed to 
 send the blood thrilling to the extremities of 
 my body, and drove out all thoughts of a 
 gloomy nature as to my future career. 
 
 After gazing at the fire for some ten mi- 
 nutes, and seeing in the bright coals bright 
 forms of faces at home, and bright prospects 
 of academic honours, I felt a degree of som- 
 nolency come over me which I had never ex- 
 perienced before. I managed to undress 
 myself and creep into bed somehow or another, 
 but how I cannot even now say. The effect 
 of my long journey, through the cold open 
 air, upon the top of a heavy -jolting vehicle, 
 and the unwonted stimulus of a strong tumbler 
 of spirits and water, combined to send me off
 
 OF OXFORD. 9 
 
 instantaneously into a deep and half-apo- 
 plectic sleep. I am not at all aware how long 
 I had slept before I was awakened by a noise 
 like the grating movement of some large ill- 
 oiled machinery, and the sound of something 
 that seemed like a giant hammer falling on 
 the ceiling of my room, which appeared to be 
 formed of some deeply-sonorous, metallic sub- 
 stance. " Bom, bom, bom !" — the very air 
 seemed to vibrate with the sound ; my bed 
 shook under me ; and the very walls, and the 
 chairs and tables, seemed to be suffering from 
 an incipient earthquake ! 
 
 I sprang out of bed, and rushed into my 
 sitting-room. After tumbling over the chairs, 
 and running against the table and sofa, I con- 
 trived to find my way to the outer door. I 
 opened it with some little difficulty, for I was 
 unacquainted with the management of an oak- 
 door lock, and listened at the top of my stair- 
 case : all was still as death ; and, as the pas- 
 sage lamp was out, and I was not certain of 
 the geography of the place, and, moreover, in 
 my night-dress only, I thought it more pru- 
 dent to return to my bed, and risk another 
 
 b 5
 
 10 GREAT TOM 
 
 attack of earthquake than a certain cold and 
 a probable tumble down the steep staircase. 
 
 I managed to find my way into my bed 
 again, and into another deep slumber, from 
 which I was roused by the same awful sounds 
 as before, attended with the same results — a 
 spring out of bed and into my sitting-room. 
 It was then, however, beginning to get light; 
 so, as soon as the " Bom, bom, bomming" 
 had ceased, and the furniture and walls no 
 longer shook and shivered, I dressed myself 
 as quickly as I could, and rushed down to the 
 porter's lodge to seek an explanation of the 
 causes which had alarmed me so much. 
 
 " Lord love ye !" said Cerberus, with a 
 look made up with pity for my ignorance 
 and sorrow for my fright; " it was only 
 Great Tom." 
 
 "Great Tom!" said I. "Is he mad and 
 confined up above ?" for I had suddenly con- 
 ceived a notion that the clanking of machinery 
 which I heard was the clanking of the chains 
 and fetters of one " Poor Tom of Bedlam," of 
 whom I had read in my youth, and that the 
 " Bom, bom, bom," which had so alarmed
 
 OF OXFORD. 11 
 
 me, was the result of a violent attempt to 
 escape by bursting open his door with a sledge- 
 hammer. 
 
 "Mad? Confined? What do you mean ? 
 Why, Great Tom's a bell, and one of my 
 principal perkisites. He's just over your head, 
 and holds communication with the great 
 clock, and hits every hour. You'll soon get 
 used to him, though he is a little noisy at 
 first. I never knowed a gentleman as had 
 your rooms, as didn't say he missed him un- 
 common when he changed for another set." 
 
 With this explanation, my alarm at earth- 
 quakes and madmen ceased ; and I doubted 
 not that I should soon get used to the incon- 
 venience, although it was not a slight one, as 
 I was not given to nervous head-aches, and 
 had a decided tendency to sleeping soundly. 
 
 I confined myself to my rooms during the 
 next day, arranging my books and papers ; 
 and, after the clock had struck some half 
 dozen hours, contrived to bear the noise with- 
 out leaping out of my chair. In the evening 
 I had got used to it, and sat down to my 
 supper after it had hit nine, as the porter
 
 12 GREAT TOM 
 
 phrased it, with a full determination to trouble 
 myself no further about a mere clock and a 
 great bell. I cut a slice of the grilled chicken 
 before me, and was preparing to insert the 
 first mouthful, when such a din arose as I had 
 never heard before. " Bom, bom, bom !" 
 forty times as loud as the clock-striking, was 
 struck up and continued until my glasses, 
 plates, dishes, knives and forks, fairly danced 
 upon, and some of them off, the table. The 
 books fell from my shelves, the poker, tongs, 
 and shovel joined in the uproar; and the 
 tables, chairs, and looking-glasses played their 
 parts in a horrible accompaniment obligato. 
 I stood, like a suddenly-aroused sleeper, amidst 
 the ruins of Lisbon, wondering at the destruc- 
 tion around me, and expecting to be immo- 
 lated every moment with the falling sub- 
 stances. 
 
 What could it mean ? " Bom, bom, bom !" 
 Was the clock gone mad ? Did they count 
 the hours differently in Oxford ? or had the 
 bell, in mercy to me, agreed to concentrate 
 all its nightly doings into one continued 
 strike ? — to get rid of its work at once, and
 
 OF OXFORD. 1 3 
 
 be quiet for the rest of the night. I could 
 not answer these queries ; so I dashed down 
 my fork, seized my trencher cap, and fled as 
 fast as I could to the lodge, to seek an expla- 
 nation of my friend the porter. 
 
 He was not at his post ; but the under- 
 porter told me that I should find him in the 
 room above mine, which was used as a belfry. 
 I did not choose to expose my ignorance of 
 College matters, and my fears of being over- 
 whelmed by my own furniture and apart- 
 ments, to an under-strapper, nor did I feel 
 disposed to venture up the staircase again 
 until my doubts of its stability were resolved ; 
 so I walked round the square until I saw the 
 porter descend, after the bell had ceased 
 " Bom, bom, bomming," with a very much 
 overgrown lantern in his hand. 
 
 " Is it you, Mr. Cuique?" he inquired, as I 
 ran to meet him. 
 
 "I am not certain," said I, "for, to use an 
 old joke, I feel like a double Cuique — a man 
 beside himself. I have been frightfully alarmed . 
 Great Tom — " 
 
 " Ah — ah — I twig — all my fault — I ought
 
 14 GREAT TOM 
 
 to have warned you that, at ten minutes past 
 nine every night, I have to pull this enormous 
 clapper 101 times, as a hint to our 101 stu- 
 dents to come into College and save their 
 pennies. He does shake your room shocking ; 
 but you'll be up to him after a bit." 
 
 I thanked him for his information ; and, 
 heartily wishing him and Great Tom some 
 hundreds of miles off, returned to my rooms ; 
 and, after I had set my things a little in their 
 pristine order, finished my broil, and prepared 
 for a quiet hour or two's reading. 
 
 I got on very well until the clock struck 
 ten. The grating of the machinery, and the 
 heavy blows on the bell, excited me and made 
 me so nervous, that I felt convinced I should 
 not be able to sleep at all for fear of the 
 hourly attacks upon the tympanum of my 
 ears. I had almost made up my mind to sit 
 up all night, and go to bed in the morning, 
 when a knock was given upon my oak. I 
 sprung from my chair, and nervously hesitated 
 to say " Come in," for fear that Great Tom 
 himself might respond to my invitation. The 
 absurdity of the supposition that such a heavy
 
 OF OXFORD. 15 
 
 fellow could have come down stairs without 
 my hearing him descend, gave me courage to 
 invite the knocker to enter. 
 
 It was my friend, the porter, who, with 
 more consideration than my scout (who I 
 suppose, from habit, thought nothing of the 
 annoyances attached to Tom Staircase), had 
 come up to give me his advice how to defeat 
 the dangers of the nightly attack. 
 
 "Sir," said he, "I knows as gentlemen as 
 sleeps here for the fust term seldom gits any 
 sleep unless they takes my remedy and puts 
 on a double nightcap." 
 
 " A woollen one, perhaps," said I ; " but 
 I assure you, I never wore a nightcap in my 
 life. Won't a Welsh wig do as well? I 
 have one that I bought to wear outside the 
 coach." 
 
 " Bless your innocence !" cried Cerberus, 
 laughing. " I never had the least notion of 
 meaning a literal nightcap — a bag with a 
 tassel to it— I alludes to a metty/wrical 
 one." 
 
 " A sealskin travelling-cap, eh?" 
 
 " Worse and worse. In Oxford, a night-
 
 1 6 GREAT TOM 
 
 cap is Greek or Latin for a strong glass of 
 something warm. Try it on, sir, and, if one 
 don't make you sleepy, try two." 
 
 Now, I had never been addicted to in- 
 dulgence in nightly draughts ; indeed, my 
 poverty, if not my will, had made me a 
 stranger to any thing stronger than a little 
 mild ale, or a modicum of elder wine at 
 Christmas time. I thanked the porter, how- 
 ever, for his advice, and resolved to follow it. 
 I put on my kettle, and brewed myself a very 
 stiff glass of gin-and-water, which certainly 
 made me feel a little less nervous. The 
 clock, however, struck eleven, and its strokes 
 came so painfully distinct to my ears, that I 
 tried a second, and then a third. This last 
 dose had the desired effect; for, before I 
 could make up my mind to undress and get 
 into bed, I fell asleep in my reading-chair. 
 
 I was roused from a delicious dream of 
 home and its comforts by something — I pre- 
 sume the clock striking twelve. " This will 
 never do," said I. " If I drink any more, I 
 shall be ill. I feel rather queer now — the 
 candles seem to me to have umbrella-tops to
 
 OF OXFORD. 17 
 
 their wicks, and there are four of them burn- 
 ing ; though I am convinced I only put up a 
 pair. That horrid bell! — a capital idea 
 strikes me ; ' face your enemy, and he'll fly,' 
 so the copy-books say. I'll go up and face 
 Great Tom, and crack his head with the 
 poker. Splendid notion !" 
 
 After making three unsuccessful bobs at 
 my weapon of offence, I managed to secure 
 it ; and, taking one of the four candles, which 
 I was surprised to find left only two on the 
 table, I resolutely made my meandering way 
 up the staircase, and came to a strong door 
 on my left, fastened by a padlock. A well- 
 directed, energetic blow with the poker made 
 the fastening give way ; and I found myself 
 in a huge, high, hollow dome, with a spiral 
 staircase leading to its roof, by the side of 
 which hung a thick rope, which I felt assured 
 was suspended from my enemy. Without 
 the least hesitation, I rushed up ; but, long 
 before I got to the top, from going round and 
 round with my feet, my head began to go 
 round and round as well. I seized on the 
 hand-rail, to save myself from falling, but
 
 18 GREAT TOM 
 
 dropped my candle, which went down, spin- 
 ning through the dark void like a spent 
 rocket-stick, and lighted, without a light, on 
 the floor below. I was so angry with it for 
 leaving me in the dark, that I flung the poker 
 after it and rushed on, heedless of con- 
 sequences, until I tripped over a rope and 
 fell, head first, upon a level floor, across 
 which I rolled, like a shot out of a shovel. 
 
 I was stunned by the fall ; but, when I 
 recovered myself a little, I" got up, resolved 
 to find the bell. I put out my hands to 
 grope my way ; and felt a cold, smooth, 
 metallic, concave surface, around which I 
 travelled cautiously, until I caught my foot 
 against something, which, on stooping to 
 ascertain its nature, I discovered to be a rope. 
 I passed my hand along it, and found it was 
 attached by a slip-knot to a huge mass of 
 iron, with a knot at the end, like an ex- 
 aggerated college kitchen-poker. 
 
 " What can this be?" said I to myself. 
 But, before I could reply to my own question, 
 there came over me a sudden faintness and 
 a conviction that I was in the bell — in the
 
 OF OXFORD. 1 9 
 
 very heart of my enemy — in the bowels of 
 Great Tom. 
 
 I stood and trembled. A cold sweat burst 
 out of every pore of my person. My hair 
 seemed as if some centrifugal force had been 
 applied to it, and that it was flying, or rather 
 radiating, off my head, like the wig of the 
 little men that they place on the top of an 
 electrifying-machine. I struggled, I kicked, 
 I screamed ; I performed all sorts of contor- 
 tions and gyrations in my endeavours to 
 escape — all to no purpose. I thought I 
 should go mad. My knees failed me, and 
 with a deep groan I fell flat upon the floor, 
 and knew that the knob of the clapper was 
 within one inch of my own knob. What if 
 the porter came to toll the students out of 
 college ? I must be smashed. What if the 
 beam to which the bell was suspended gave 
 way ? I must be extinguished — my life put 
 out, like the light of an inglorious mutton 
 mould-candle. Horrible, humiliating thought ! 
 
 I lay quite still, gazing up into the dark 
 concave above me, until my overcharged ima- 
 gination peopled it with all sorts of horribly-
 
 20 GREAT TOM 
 
 shaped demons, clinging to the mighty clap- 
 per, grinning upon me with distended eye- 
 balls, and jabbering at me, as if enjoying the 
 fun my terrors afforded them. I closed my 
 eyes — the perspiration issued more plentifully 
 than ever from my skin, and with a despe- 
 rate energy I shouted, " Porter !" 
 
 " What ails you ?" said a deep-toned but 
 musical voice immediately above me. " The 
 porter is gone to snooze. Lie still, and don't 
 kick up such a bobbery. I allow no triple 
 bobs, major or minor, up here ; except the 
 bobs they tip the porter for showing me." 
 
 " I want to get out !" shrieked I ; " I want 
 to go home to ray rooms." 
 
 " You won't go home till morning," chanted 
 the sonorous voice. 
 
 " Who are you f" I asked, in a perfect 
 agony. 
 
 "The mighty Tom," was the answer. 
 " Not a man will leave his can till he hears 
 the mighty Tom — no more can you." 
 
 " My dear Old Tom," said I, imploringly, 
 
 it T >> 
 
 " Don't call me ' Old Tom,' " replied the
 
 OF OXFORD. 21 
 
 voice. " It is putting me on a level with 
 Hodge's best, and reminds me of spirits — of 
 which I never keep a stock up in this lonely 
 situation — don't, old fellow." 
 
 This friendly and familiar salutation put 
 me more at my ease ; and as I could not get 
 out of him, in one sense, I resolved to get as 
 much out of him as I could in another. 
 
 " Coldish up here," said I, in that cool, 
 off-handish way that one uses to get up a 
 conversation with a stranger. 
 
 " I always take it cool," replied Tom. 
 " I object to hot with, though some people 
 don't — ahem ! I am comfortably tiled-in ; 
 I have plenty of exercise every hour of 
 the day — now don't it strike you ?" — 
 
 " Not yet," said I, " but I am afraid it will 
 soon." 
 
 " What do you mean?" 
 
 " Your clapper." 
 
 " My tongue — eh? Don't be afraid. I 
 am no wag, but a most immoveable fellow. 
 I never speak till I feel a pull upon me, and 
 then, if they give me rope enough, I can 
 talk pretty loudly. I am none of your light
 
 22 GREAT TOM 
 
 weights, I can tell you ; but what the stu- 
 dents slangishly call a ' heavy swell,' far 
 heavier than my brother of Lincoln. I lead 
 here a noisy life of single blessedness." 
 
 " Then you have never been married," said 
 I, by way of keeping up the ball of con- 
 versation. 
 
 " They have never been able to bring me 
 to a ring yet ; though they tell an absurd 
 tale that when they attempted to do so, to 
 celebrate the happy restoration of Charles 
 II., I was indignant at such a liberty, gave 
 up my situation, and fell through that dimi- 
 nutive circle of plaster ornaments that they 
 point out under the gateway that bears my 
 name. I believe it to be a vile pun on the 
 name of Doctor Fell, who gave me this ex- 
 alted situation. Great would have been my 
 fall ! — you don't fancy I am cracked, eh ?" 
 
 " Certainly not," said I — " you're as sound 
 as—" 
 
 " A bell. Good. But just wait one — " 
 
 Bang ! Such a horrible blow fell upon my 
 companion, that I sprung up and knocked my 
 head against his side.
 
 OF OXFORD. 23 
 
 a 
 
 Lie still," said lie ; " it's only the clock- 
 hammer striking one. I am a lad of metal, 
 and don't mind being knocked about. The 
 hourly blows I have received ever since Dr. 
 Fell placed me here, are only so many proofs 
 of my soundness." 
 
 " Then you have not lived here all your 
 life ?" I inquired. 
 
 " How could I when this part of my house 
 was not built till the middle of the seven- 
 teenth century ? but I'll tell you a little of 
 my origin ; it may amuse you. My family, 
 and a very old family it is, came, if we can 
 believe one Polydore Virgil, from Nola, in 
 Campania, and were all originally * in the 
 church.' I was cast upon the world about 
 the year seven hundred, and baptized — " 
 
 "What!" said I, "baptized? you don't 
 mean to say — " 
 
 " I do though ; baptized and anointed too, 
 like the kings of England — not greased, as 
 my clapper is now — ay, and exorcised too by 
 a bishop, to enable me to drive away spirits 
 from mankind — like another Father Mathew. 
 I was educated in Osney Abbey, just outside 
 the University, with my brothers — "
 
 24 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Oh, you were not an only child then ? — 
 I should have thought, from your size, that all 
 your family had been concentrated into one 
 of immoderate bulk," said I. 
 
 "I was certainly a very large specimen of my 
 species, but I had six brothers, nevertheless. 
 They baptized them Douce, Clement, Haut- 
 cleri, Austin, Gabriel, and John. Why they 
 should not have called him Jack as well as 
 calling me Tom, I can't think — my godfathers 
 and godmothers could have had no taste." 
 
 " They meant it for a term of endearment 
 — they never could have dreamt of calling 
 you * little Tommy.' " 
 
 " Too ridiculous, certainly. Well, as I 
 was saying, when you interrupted me, I was 
 rather too comfortable at Osney, for Harry, 
 the six-wife-power king, sent all my hearers 
 to the right-about, seized their lands, pulled 
 down their houses, and mine with it, and 
 transferred me to St. Frideswide's, which is 
 now called the Cathedral. They must have 
 had some little difficulty in bearing away the 
 bell, though I could offer no resistance to 
 their efforts. A scaffold was prepared for 
 me, and I was hanged for the second time :
 
 OF OXFORD. 25 
 
 but I always felt in a state of suspense for 
 fear the tower should give way and let 
 me down. I was very glad when Doctor 
 Fell removed me here; it is a much more 
 respectable and roomy home ; and, though 
 dependent on a mere beam for my support, I 
 want for nothing, not even visitors. You 
 would really be astonished, my dear fellow, 
 if you knew what a number of people called 
 upon me in the course of a year. I should 
 not dislike it, but they will, all of them, pull 
 me about so — they use my rope like a lone- 
 pole, to stir me up and set me roaring." 
 
 " And your brothers ?" said I. 
 
 " Poor little fellows ! — it's very degrading to 
 the family, but I don't mind telling you" said 
 Tom, in a deep whisper. " They were melted 
 down, and are now used as pots and pans for 
 pickling and preserving in the College kitchen 
 — heigh ho ! to what base uses we may cume 
 at last !" 
 
 " What ! quote Shakspeare ?" 
 
 " And why not ?" said Tom. " Do you 
 think I have lived so many years for nothing ? 
 T tell you what ; though I do not despise, I 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 96 GREAT TOM 
 
 look down upon Oxford, and from ray win- 
 dows I have seen and heard such things as 
 would astonish your weak mind. But you'll 
 split, eh ?" 
 
 I assured him I would not. 
 
 " Well," said he, " I like what I have seen 
 of you. You have reposed in me — that is, 
 you would have done so if I had not kept 
 you awake with my chattering ; and I do not 
 mind relating to you a few anecdotes, and if 
 you are ever inclined to tell them again, and 
 are asked who told them to you, don't say 
 ' Tom toll'd'— that's all." 
 
 " I promise," said I. 
 
 " Enough," said Tom. " I like that better 
 than swearing — it's so vulgar. Now, as you 
 cannot get to your rooms before ' daylight 
 doth appear,' for you will break your neck 
 clown that confounded corkscrew staircase in 
 the dark — " 
 
 " Or dash my brains out." 
 
 " Brains ! good ! you said brains last ! — 
 pretty well that for a freshman, but — nun- 
 quam mens — never mind. I'll just tell you 
 one of my tales to while away the time.
 
 OF OXFORD. 27 
 
 Look out ! — here comes that confounded ham- 
 mer again." 
 
 The clock struck two; Great Tom re- 
 sponded to the blows, and then began. 
 
 9
 
 28 GREAT TOM 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A CASE OF ABSTRACTION. 
 
 " My dear friend Tomkisson," said the 
 Honourable Dapper Willburton — they were 
 both Christ Church men, the former a student, 
 and the latter a gentleman-commoner of some 
 three years' standing — " have you seen the 
 subject for the Newdigate ; the English prize 
 poem ?" 
 
 " I have; and think it a most excellent 
 one. ' On the consequences to the British 
 dominions of the introduction of Chinese 
 tea,' " said Tomkisson. 
 
 " Of course you mean to write for it ?" 
 inquired the Honourable. 
 
 " Why — really I — that is — you know I 
 failed last year." 
 
 " But, for the honour of Westminster, try
 
 OF OXFORD. 29 
 
 again. You may win, and then your college 
 and all your friends will be proud of you." 
 
 " Well — perhaps I may — but why do not 
 you write for it ? At Westminster you gained 
 great k v 8 0S for your Latin verses, and you know 
 what Cicero says — * omnes artes.' " 
 
 " I am not quite certain that I do — but, 
 never mind. The fact is, my tutor used to 
 tell me that, though my ideas were very 
 brilliant, and my phraseology particularly 
 poetical, he had some little doubts upon his 
 mind that they were borrowed — cribbed, I 
 suppose, he meant ; it was very impertinent 
 of him, but somehow it has made me shy of 
 doing poetry ever since," said Willburton. 
 
 " Pooh ! — nonsense ! Why the selection of 
 choice phrases from the older writers, and a 
 judicious remodelling of their ideas, consti- 
 tutes the best poetry of modern days. I know 
 that you used to get your themes and verses 
 done for you now and then at Westminster, 
 but that was sheer idleness. We all knew 
 you could do them yourself, if you chose; 
 do try for the Newdigate." 
 
 " Well, I will, if you will — no rivalry, you
 
 30 GREAT TOM 
 
 know, only a little friendly emulation ; but we 
 must not let each other see the poems until 
 after the prize is adjudged." 
 
 " Certainly not," said Tomkisson ; " I will 
 try — and do my best too — though I seriously 
 hope you may win." 
 
 " It certainly would be rather pleasant to 
 hear, when one rises in the House for the first 
 time — to propose or second the address per- 
 haps — the question : 'Is he a clever man V 
 answered by, ' Of course he is — he got the 
 Newdigate.' It starts one well on the road 
 of parliamentary life," said the Honourable 
 Dapper Willburton, looking senatorically. 
 
 Tomkisson, who cultivated his friend in the 
 hopes of using him in after-life, squeezed his 
 arm in a most affectionate manner. 
 
 " I suppose, the sooner we begin the better?" 
 said Willburton. 
 
 " There is no hurry. We are limited, you 
 know, to fifty lines," replied Tomkisson. 
 
 " Ay, there's the rub. So extensive a 
 subject will require a great deal of concen- 
 tration — will it not?" 
 
 " Certainly — you must not begin ab ovo
 
 OF OXFORD. SI 
 
 by minutely describing the planting, pruning, 
 watering, and manuring of the plant, its bud- 
 ding and the gathering of its leaves by the 
 little pig-tailed women and children; but 
 plunge at once in medias res, and suppose the 
 leaves made into tea and divided into Hyson, 
 Twankay, Bohea, and other varieties, and 
 carefully packed in lead. I think you might 
 venture to describe the voyage — " 
 
 " What — swanlike wings — meaning sails — 
 urging the ponderous bulk fraught with ad- 
 venturous mortals o'er the trackless deep — 
 walking the trottoir of the ocean like a thing 
 of life, and all that sort — eh ? that's what you 
 mean." 
 
 " Exactly — only you had better clothe the 
 ideas in newer phrases. Then you can be very 
 moral about the substitution of the innocent 
 salubrious beverage for the intoxicating and 
 unhealthy draughts — " 
 
 " Porter, ale, and cider, wine, spirits, and 
 other compounds, as licensed to be drunk on 
 the premises," said the Honourable. 
 
 " Precisely — only don't allude to them in 
 language quite so familiar to the ear. Then
 
 32 GREAT TOM 
 
 you can describe the comforts of the poor — 
 the husband abstaining from the boisterous 
 mirth of the sink of iniquity, to share his — " 
 
 " Pot of tea instead of beer — " 
 
 « Yes— only— " 
 
 " With his missus and the little kiddies, as 
 they call their wife and family," said Will- 
 burton, showing an unwonted degree of poe- 
 tical excitement. " Could not we introduce 
 the cow — dappled sides — feeding in sea-green 
 pastures — give a slight hint of the fable of 
 Europa — have a touch at the milkmaid's 
 cherry cheeks, and the lowing herd winding 
 slowly over the river Lea ?" 
 
 " Better not, I think," said Tomkisson, 
 afraid to laugh at his friend ; " but you can 
 show your abilites and your horror of slavery, 
 by venting your just indignation on the use of 
 the sweetening medium grown under a burn- 
 ing sun, amidst the shrieks and groans of a 
 fettered and lash-driven slave population." 
 
 " Yes — and recommend the substitution of 
 lump or loaf, which is more refined, you know 
 — capital idea." 
 
 Then conclude by alluding to the pale 
 
 a
 
 OF OXFORD. 33 
 
 student over a cheering cup of the Seric 
 juice and the — " 
 
 " Benefits likely to result to the order and 
 quiet of the university from the abandonment 
 of claret-cup and egg-flip. I see — I see — it 
 shall be done," said Willburton. 
 
 Tomkisson, who was really a clever fellow 
 in his way, and wished to give his honourable 
 friend such hints of the subject as he might 
 act upon, without appearing to cram him, 
 thought he had said enough, and was about to 
 leave him ; but his friend retained his arm in 
 his, and observed in a serious whisper — 
 
 " Mind, old fellow, no one must know that 
 we are writing for the Newdigate, and you 
 must not be seen in my rooms or I in yours 
 until we have finished and sent in our poems. 
 The world is a cruel world, and, should I suc- 
 ceed, my success might be attributed to 
 secondary causes. You see my meaning? 
 Sic vos non vobis — eh ?" 
 
 Tomkisson allowed that he did see his 
 friend's meaning and understand his allusion. 
 He agreed to submit to the terms proposed, 
 although he said it would give him great 
 
 c 5
 
 34 GREAT TOM 
 
 pain to interrupt, even for a short time, 
 their pleasant meetings in each other's 
 rooms. 
 
 " Never mind, old fellow, we can meet any- 
 where else, and that will do just as well," 
 said Willburton. 
 
 Tomkisson was obliged to look as if he 
 thought so, — though he did not — for, to tell 
 the truth, he was devoted to meat-pies, 
 savoury pates, saucissons, and other foreign 
 relishes ; and his friend had an unlimited tick 
 at Fortnum and Mason's. 
 
 They parted, and each went to his lodg- 
 ings, for they had no longer rooms in college. 
 Tomkisson had hired quiet apartments over 
 Magdalen Bridge ; for much depended on his 
 reading hard for a class. Willburton had 
 gay rooms in the High Street, because he 
 wished for anything but to be quiet and read. 
 Then he was sure of plenty of idlers dropping 
 in at all hours to smoke or chat, or do any- 
 thing else that idle men used to do in those 
 remote days ; he could look out of the win- 
 dow, and see the men go out hunting or 
 riding, and all the coaches that passed
 
 OF OXFORD. 35 
 
 through the town, and lift his elbow to their 
 well-known drivers. 
 
 When he arrived at his lodgings, he threw- 
 off his coat and neckcloth, put on a reading- 
 gown, and sat down to meditate on his 
 subject — for he was full of it. Presently an 
 idea occurred to him for an opening couplet ; 
 he muttered it over to himself while he un- 
 locked his writing-desk, spread out his paper, 
 and mended his pen. He was just in the act 
 of committing it to paper when a scuffling of 
 feet was heard on his stairs, and three men 
 rushed into his room with a view holloa. 
 They burst out into a loud laugh at seeing 
 the idlest man in the University sitting at his 
 desk in his reading-gown at two o'clock in 
 the day. 
 
 The laugh grated on Willburton's ears, and 
 the shout annoyed his feelings. He showed 
 it in his face. 
 
 " What, reading ! — actually reading?" said 
 one of the men. 
 
 " Writing to his lady-love," said the 
 second. 
 
 " More likely to the governor for tin, or
 
 3 6 GREAT TOM 
 
 to Fortnum and Mason for a perigord" said 
 the third. 
 
 " I am busy, as you see, or rather about to 
 be busy. I am beginning to write, and really 
 I do wish you would leave me this morning," 
 said the honourable. 
 
 " No such thing — you promised us a sau- 
 cisson and a jug of ale before you went down 
 the water with us, so sonnez le ti?igler, and 
 let us commence," said one of his callers. 
 
 " I really am going to be very busy, and 
 cannot go down the water to-day. I don't 
 mind standing lunch, if you'll promise to leave 
 me to myself afterwards. I am going 
 to write, I assure you — something very par- 
 ticular." 
 
 " Oh, of course, if that's the case — but 
 order up the consumeables," said another. 
 
 The private tiger soon had everything 
 prepared, and the three young men sat down, 
 inviting their host to do the same, but he was 
 too much excited by the couplet in his head, 
 which he was afraid would escape, to accept 
 their invitations. They stood upon no fur- 
 ther ceremony, but commenced eating, while
 
 OF OXFORD. 37 
 
 Mr. Willburton walked up and down the 
 room, repeating the verses louder and louder 
 to himself, as he thought — until these words 
 distinctly reached the ears of his friends — 
 
 " When the good ship — ' the Farquhar' — put to sea, 
 Laden with Twankay, Hyson, and Bohea — " 
 
 They laid down their knives and forks and 
 shouted, " Bravo ! Dapper turned poet ! 
 bravo ! let us drink success to his vein 
 poetic." 
 
 " Willburton and his poem — hurrah ! one 
 cheer more for the bohea." 
 
 " Really," said Willburton, " I was forget- 
 ful — I did not mean to he heard — I did not 
 wish my secret to be discovered — I — " 
 
 " Oh, then there is a secret — confess — 
 make a clean breast," said one. 
 
 " Let me see," said the second ; " I can 
 explain, I think : ' tea and bohea ! ' You 
 have seen the subject for this year's prize 
 poem? Well — depend upon it, Dapper is 
 doing a Newdigate." 
 
 Dapper could not deny it, so he owned the 
 soft impeachment, and begged them as a 
 favour not to divulge the secret to any one
 
 38 GREAT TOM 
 
 else, (which, of course, they promised,) and 
 to leave him as soon as lunch was over. 
 
 In this they obeyed him, intimating their 
 hopes that he would knock off his poem 
 quickly, and be a brick again. 
 
 " Capital opening," said one. 
 
 " Splendid," said another. 
 
 " I would not have missed it for a pony," 
 said the third ; and all three burst into so 
 loud a laugh just as they got into the street, 
 that the Poet heard it clearly, though he had 
 not the remotest idea that he caused it. He 
 ordered away the luncheon, after finishing the 
 jug of ale, and sat down and committed the 
 couplet to paper. He tried a second, but 
 could only get half another line. 
 
 " The sails were set, and — " 
 
 There he was aground. He bit his pen, 
 ran his fingers through his hair, looked down 
 on his boots and up on the ceiling ; rose, and 
 walked about the room ; sat down again, and 
 kicked his terrier that tried to jump up into 
 his lap. He had heard that Poets sometimes 
 required stimulants to bring out the ideas
 
 OF OXFORD. 39 
 
 imbedded in their brains, so he rang for his 
 servant and ordered cigars with hock and 
 Seltzer. The stimulants did their duty, and 
 ere he had finished his first cigar he was able 
 to complete the second couplet : 
 
 " The sails were set, and all the sailors ready ; 
 
 The captain cried out ' Steady boys, there, steady.' " 
 
 Beyond this, hock, Seltzer, and weeds 
 would not enable him to proceed. He had 
 almost made up his mind to resign all chance 
 of poetic fame, and generously to give his 
 opening verses to his friend Tomkisson, when 
 he fortunately recollected that his sister 
 Henrietta was a contributor to an Annual, 
 and had just done " The Undone One," to 
 the uubounded admiration of her publisher 
 who was delighted with lofty names. 
 
 To her he wrote, explaining his intentions 
 and wishes, and begging of her to send him 
 down, by return of post, her ideas upon the 
 subject, expressed in a metre, of which he 
 sent her a specimen, and not exceeding fifty 
 lines. When he had sealed it and given it to 
 his servant to post it, he dressed more quietly 
 *>nd soberly than usual, and walked down to
 
 40 GREAT TOM 
 
 Hall dinner, where it was quite clear to him 
 that his secret had not been kept by his 
 friends of the morning, as many others wished 
 him success in all his undertakings, and he 
 heard several whispered titterings about 
 " tea and Bohea." 
 
 He felt rather uncomfortable, but he looked 
 as poetical as he could, and was consoled by 
 the thought that he-should meet Tomkisson 
 at a wine-party in the evening, and could 
 communicate to him the progress he had 
 made in his verses, and the unlucky manner 
 in which his secret had transpired. He re- 
 solved to obtain his sanction for the disclosure 
 of his secret also, in order that their abstain- 
 ing from each other's society, during the pro- 
 gress of the rival poems, might be properly 
 appreciated. 
 
 Tomkisson readily assented to the proposi- 
 tion that he should be announced as a rival 
 candidate for the Newdigate. As a matter 
 of course, the announcement was received 
 with loud applause, and his success drunk in 
 " bumpers, and no taps ;" to which he mo- 
 destly replied, alluding in his speech to his
 
 OF OXFORD. 41 
 
 temerity in opposing so clever a person as his 
 honourable friend on his right, and assuring 
 the company that he should not have been 
 rash enough to do so, had it not been at his 
 honourable friend's suggestion. 
 
 Mr. Willburton, of course, thought it 
 necessary to rise and explain, and his expla- 
 nation was so satisfactory, that he was pro- 
 nounced " a regular trurnp, and no mistake." 
 
 The president proposed that, instead of 
 another bottle of claret, tea should be 
 ordered, in order to test the candidates' abi- 
 lities in handling the subject-matter of their 
 poems ; but his proposal was received with 
 such audible cries of " No — no — shame — 
 shame !" that he did not persevere, but re- 
 sumed his seat. 
 
 Tomkisson retired to his lodgings early ; 
 but Willburton spent the evening at the party, 
 where he sat late. In this he had a double 
 motive — to show his friends that he could 
 afford to waste his time, and thereby prove 
 his superiority over his rival, and to convince 
 them that they were not working together —
 
 42 GREAT TOM 
 
 in short, that there was no collusion between 
 them. 
 
 We must adhere to the honourable candi- 
 date for the present, and leave his rival to his 
 studies. 
 
 By return of post the letter from his sister 
 arrived, franked by " the governor." Dapper 
 opened it, and found within an affectionate 
 epistle, and a poem of fifty lines, neatly done 
 in crow-quill. He sat down and read the 
 verses carefully. Then he locked his door, 
 and copied them in his own horrible scrawl, 
 putting his dashes and blots here and there, 
 that it might look like an original MS. 
 Having accomplished this to his satisfaction, 
 he burnt his sister's copy, and thought himself 
 " safe to go in and win." 
 
 He very much wished to show the verses to 
 his rival, and to ask his opinion of them ; but 
 he thought it would not do — he might catch 
 an idea and convert it to his own use. He 
 locked them up carefully, and nodded and 
 winked mysteriously whenever he was asked 
 how he got on. This system he carried on
 
 OF OXFORD. 43 
 
 for nearly a week, and then put on the idle 
 man again, admitting to his friends that his 
 task was done. Tomkisson said he was fflad 
 to hear it, as he had finished his poem, and 
 meant to send it in on the following day. 
 
 This announcement, he could not tell why, 
 made Mr. Willburton very nervous. Having 
 openly set up as a rival to Tomkisson, he had 
 a great horror of being beaten by him. He 
 thought he could depend upon his sister's far- 
 spread fame as a poetess, but still he thought 
 it possible that her verses might be more 
 suited to an Album or an Annual, than to a 
 university rostrum ; so at the eleventh hour 
 he made up his mind to show them to his 
 college tutor, and ask his opinion of them. 
 
 Mr. expressed his delight to hear 
 
 from his blushing pupil, whom he looked upon 
 as a bit of a reprobate, that he had written 
 for the Newdigate. He smilingly received 
 the MS., and begged the author to be seated 
 while he perused the verses. He read them 
 carefully over, and then, leaning his pale brow 
 on his pale hand, said — " Ingenious, exceed-
 
 44 GREAT TOM 
 
 ingly ingenious; but I think I have seen 
 them, or something like them, before." 
 
 Willburton was horrified, but said not a 
 word. 
 
 " Have the kindness to give me that Anti- 
 slavery Gazette at your elbow,"" said Mr. . 
 
 " Ah !" said he, when he had received it, " I 
 thought so — here they are — all the same 
 ideas, only put into new and not so efficient 
 words. It will never do, my dear young 
 friend; I admire your ingenuity and your 
 humanity, but I cannot approve of — to use a 
 mild term — your mal-appropriation of the 
 thoughts of others. There is your MS. I 
 wish you a good morning." 
 
 Willburton snatched up the verses, tried to 
 say something apologetic, but feeling some- 
 thing like a ball of worsted in his throat, and 
 a swimming sensation about his head, he 
 merely bowed and left the room. 
 
 What was to be done ? He went to his 
 lodgings, lit up a cigar, and meditated. His 
 tutor, he felt assured, would never reveal 
 what had taken place ; it was confined to his
 
 OF OXFORD. 45 
 
 own breast, that he had meditated imposing 
 his sister's verses on the University, and that 
 she had " flung him " by imposing upon him 
 an altered-for-the-worse version of lines from 
 the Anti-slavery Gazette. Still he had an- 
 nounced himself a candidate for the Newdi- 
 gate, and a candidate he thought he must be, 
 or be laughed at by a large circle of acquaint- 
 ances. What if he resigned from pure 
 motives of friendship to Tomkisson ? Such 
 an excess of friendship would never be be- 
 lieved. What if he unbosomed himself to his 
 friend, and induced him to resign, and trans- 
 fer his verses to him — for a consideration — 
 the promise of patronage and a cheque on the 
 Governor ? It was a very ticklish point. 
 Tomkisson, though poor, was proud — proud 
 of his scholarship. The Honourable Dapper 
 Willburton was in what is too vulgarly called 
 a quandary. At last he resolved to go and 
 call upon his friend and sound him — but very 
 gingerly — so slightly, in fact, that if he saw 
 his approaches to an amicable arrangement 
 disagreeable, he might retreat immediately 
 without having given offence.
 
 46 GREAT TOM 
 
 He put on his hat jauntily, to give himself 
 a careless air, swinging one glove in his 
 hand after he had put on the other, and, 
 whistling to little Vixen, the terrier, strolled 
 down High Street, as if he was merely going 
 over Maudlen Bridge for a constitutional 
 walk. He nodded exultiogly to all the men 
 whom he knew, as much as to say, " I have 
 done it — all right." 
 
 He walked up into Tomkisson's lodgings, 
 but found he was not at home. He felt a 
 little angry as well as disappointed; he 
 thought Tomkisson ought to have been at 
 home to him ; he must have known he wanted 
 to consult with him. He resolved to write a 
 note and tell him so ; he went to his writing- 
 desk, selected a pen, dipped it in ink, and 
 lifted the lower partition for a piece of paper. 
 What meets his eyes? What makes the 
 honourable gentleman tremble ? What causes 
 the beaver, so jauntily put on, to be lifted, 
 as it were, from his head ? — merely a small 
 parcel, resembling an overgrown letter, di- 
 rected to the Professor of Poetry, and bear- 
 ing the motto, tulit alter honores.
 
 OF OXFORD. 47 
 
 Some writer upon criminalities says, " Op- 
 portunity alone, in many instances, makes men 
 thieves." Here was an opportunity ! Before 
 the Honourable Dapper Willburton lay the 
 verses of his friend. What if he substituted 
 his own ; or, rather, his sister's ; or, rather than 
 that, the writer's in the Anti-slavery Gazette, 
 for them? He went to the window and 
 looked up and down — St. Clement's was 
 clear of any one like Tomkisson, and so was 
 Maudlen Bridge. 
 
 He closed the window, drew down the 
 blind, and locked the door. He was about to 
 break the seal of the packet, when he caught 
 the eye of little Vixen gazing upon him, as he 
 thought — reproachfully. There was more 
 than instinct, there was reason, in the look. 
 He was about to drop the packet and give up 
 his design, but, after a moment's thought, 
 he changed his mind, and kicked little Vic. 
 across the room under the sofa. He broke 
 the seal, abstracted the poem, which he slipped 
 into his pocket, and having substituted for it 
 the pirated verses of the Anti-slavery Gazette, 
 he sealed the parcel again, and placed it ex-
 
 48 GREAT TOM 
 
 actly as he had found it. He then drew up 
 the blind, opened the window, and unlocked 
 the door. He wrote a short note to Tomkis- 
 son, hoping to see him to wine with him ; 
 rang the bell violently for the maid, and 
 having given her strict orders to be sure to 
 deliver the letter on the table to Mr. Tom- 
 kisson when he came in, took a quiet stroll 
 to Bullingdon and back again. 
 
 When he reached his own lodgings, he sent 
 his servant out upon some frivolous pretence, 
 and then folded up Tomkisson's verses, with- 
 out reading them, in an envelope, most men- 
 daciously assuming for a motto : hos ego versi- 
 culos feci, and directed them, after enclosing 
 his name and college, sealed up, to the Pro- 
 fessor of Poetry. 
 
 Tomkisson came to wine, with several other 
 men, and never had he seen his friend in such 
 spirits, He attributed them to a conscious- 
 ness of having been successful in his trial for 
 the prize ; yet he could not help fancying at 
 times that his spirits were not genuine, but 
 adulterated. There was a fidgetiness about 
 him, and his laugh did not seem quite natural,
 
 OF OXFORD. 49 
 
 especially when one of the party alluded to a 
 gentleman who had been hanged that morning 
 for breaking open the seal of a letter. He noticed 
 that he turned rather pale ; that his hand trem- 
 bled ; and that he spilt a portion of his claret 
 on his shirt-frill ; but it might be the mere 
 result of a vivid imagination ; he might be 
 fancying himself present at the execution, 
 and few men can witness a fellow-man sus- 
 pended from a piece of twine, for the first 
 time, without being a little affected by the 
 sight. 
 
 To no one, in the course of that memorable 
 evening, was the honourable host more atten- 
 tive than to his humble friend. He neglected 
 lords and gentlemen -commoners to pay espe- 
 cial attention to him. He saw his glass filled 
 every time the bottle passed — proposed his 
 health several times in various characters — as 
 plain Tomkisson — as a student of Christ's 
 Church — as stroke of the racing-boat, but not 
 as a candidate for the Newdigate. In the 
 excess of his gratitude, Toinkisson really 
 wished that he had not sent in his poem in 
 opposition to his honourable and generous 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 GREAT TOM 
 
 friend ; and, jumping up from his chair, ex- 
 pressed a hope that the Newdigate bearing for 
 its motto tidit alter honor es might not be 
 successful. Willburton felt sure it would 
 not — though he did not say so. 
 
 The same kindness, the same most peculiar 
 respect and attention, did Willburton show 
 to his friend during the weeks that intervened 
 between the delivery of the poems and the 
 adjudgment of the prizes. They were never 
 apart. They seemed to live together for one 
 another, and upon one another ; though, if 
 the truth must be spoken, Tomkisson lived 
 upon Willburton, and greatly added to the 
 amount of Fortnum and Mason's bill. 
 
 This friendly — excessively friendly — feeling, 
 between two rivals for a university prize, was 
 highly estimated by their numerous acquaint- 
 ances. It was only spoken of with undis- 
 guised admiration, and gave frequent oppor- 
 tunities, to many of their set, to show their 
 classical attainments by comparing them to 
 Nisus and Euryalus, Pylades and Orestes, and 
 other gentlemen of ancient days, who had 
 been celebrated for the intimate and friendly
 
 OF OXFORD. 5 1 
 
 footing on which they lived with each 
 other. 
 
 Willburton was greatly excited while he 
 awaited the decision of the prize. Although 
 not previously addicted to drinking to excel 
 it must be allowed that he drank largely 
 while the judgment was pending. Tomkisson 
 took it cool, and his claret cool too — as usual 
 He really hoped that he might fail, provided 
 his honourable friend succeeded. He could 
 
 ily whisper to his set that " he had not put 
 out his strength, to oblige a noble family." 
 
 The important day at length arrived. A 
 programme was issued, and the prize for the 
 Newdigate adjudged to — a man of another 
 college — an unknown man of a small college. 
 This greatly disgusted the Christchurch men, 
 generally ; but Tomkisson felt a sort of relief 
 that he had not succeeded against his honour- 
 able friend, and his friend was greatly relieved 
 at the thought of his having escaped the con- 
 sequences that must have ensued had he been 
 declared the victor; for he mu-t either 
 have been exposed to the contempt of the 
 university for having abstracted another's 
 
 d 2
 
 52 GREAT TOM 
 
 exercise, or been the bondslave of that other 
 for the remainder of his life. 
 
 They had a very jolly evening over their 
 failure, and received the condolements of their 
 friends with great equanimity. Everybody 
 said it was at least two hundred to one against 
 each of them, and that was " long odds" for 
 any one to contend against — which was very 
 consolatory. 
 
 On the following morning, a message ar- 
 rived from the Dean, requesting Messrs. the 
 Honourable Dapper Willburton and Tom- 
 kisson to wait upon him in his study. They 
 went, as in duty bound, wondering what he 
 could want with them ; but rather expecting 
 a rebuke for their noisy conduct on the pre- 
 ceding evening. They found Mr. , the 
 
 college tutor, seated near the Dean. The 
 tutor smiled benignantly on them as they 
 entered ; and the Dean, after shaking one of 
 them kindly by the hand, and frowning on 
 the other, thus addressed them : — 
 
 " Mr. Willburton, my friend, the Pro- 
 fessor of Poetry, has, from a friendly feeling 
 towards you, betrayed your secret, and for-
 
 OF OXFORD. 53 
 
 warded to me a copy of your poem. He 
 assures me that he has had great difficulty in 
 adjudging between you and the gentleman 
 who has won the prize. Our house is greatly 
 indebted to you, and you must oblige me, 
 though the request is unusual, by reciting 
 your verses in Hall." 
 
 Willburton would have given worlds for 
 what players call " a vampire trap," that he 
 might have bolted through it, and never been 
 seen again. 
 
 " As for you, Mr. Tomkisson," continued 
 the Dean, " you have not only been guilty of 
 gross plagiarism, but you have copied your 
 matter from a magazine, infamous for its 
 heterodoxy, however famous it may be for its 
 advocacy of anti-slavery principles." 
 
 Tomkisson stood aghast. Before he could 
 refute the charge brought against him, 
 
 Mr. rose from his chair, and begged 
 
 the Dean to allow him to see the poem which 
 had called forth his indignation. He cast his 
 eyes upon it, and then upon the writer. 
 
 Willburton rushed to the door, and, before 
 the Dean could recover his surprise at his
 
 54 GREAT TOM 
 
 sudden exit, he was half way across Canter- 
 bury Quad, on his way to his lodgings. 
 
 Great was the amazement of the three gen- 
 tlemen who were left together, when they 
 discovered that the poems had changed their 
 envelopes and mottoes. They were puzzling 
 themselves how to account for the extraor- 
 dinary metamorphosis, without subjecting the 
 writer of one of them to a foul and dishonour- 
 able charge, when a note was put into the 
 Dean's hands. It ran thus : — 
 
 " Mr. Dapper Willburton begs to inform 
 the Dean of Christchurch that he exchanged 
 the prize poems in a fit of abstraction." 
 
 Mr. Tomkisson received his reward in a 
 first class and a college living, while the 
 Honourable Dapper Willburton was spending 
 his time in various cities on the continent.
 
 OF OXFORD. 55 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE INSTALLATION. 
 
 datus in Theatro 
 
 Cum tibi plausus. 
 
 Horace, Ode xx. Lib. 1. 
 
 "What do you think of that, old fellow?" 
 inquired Great Tom, alluding to the tale he 
 had just told. 
 
 " Capital," I replied. 
 
 " Capital ? Then why did you not ap- 
 plaud it ? What are your hands made for, 
 eh?" 
 
 " I could not imagine you could want a 
 clapper. You are so full of anecdotes, and 
 tell them so amusingly, that I wonder you 
 have never brought out a magazine or a 
 paper," said I. 
 
 " What, a new Bell Assemblee, or Bell's 
 Life in Oxford ? No, no : I am dependent on 
 beams of solid oak, and not on beams from
 
 56 GREAT TOM 
 
 fair ladies' eyes. I will make you the 
 'happy medium 1 of giving to the world my 
 extensive views of Life in Oxford. Should 
 you like to hear another story?" 
 
 " There can't be a doubt about it," said I. 
 " Pray oblige me." 
 
 " Well, just wait until that heavy hammer 
 pats me on the back. Here he comes — Bom, 
 bom, bom ! — there's encouragement ! I'm 
 off." 
 
 " This is abominable, shameful — I'll not 
 endure it longer," said an irate Welsh Squire 
 of the county of Glamorgan. " Half-past 
 nine on a fine May morning, and breakfast 
 not ready yet ! Here have I been up these 
 three hours, ridden round my farm, scolded 
 all the labourers, and threatened to discharge 
 ray bailiff; and when I come home, expecting 
 to find my wife and her niece waiting break- 
 fast for me, I find myself waiting for them 
 and breakfast too. I'll let them know my 
 mind, and directly too." 
 
 Mr. Cadvvallader Price rang the bell vio- 
 lently, and walked to the window, which was
 
 OF OXFORD. 57 
 
 open. The peacock came up and uttered a 
 peculiar note, implying a request for a bit of 
 bread. 
 
 " Go to the ! but no, it ain't your 
 
 fault. Although my breakfast is not ready, 
 yours is. There, poor Tom," said the kind- 
 hearted old gentleman, " there, eat that, and 
 enjoy yourself." 
 
 The peacock picked up his crumbs, un- 
 furled his tail, and strutted about to show his 
 hundred eyes, as proudly as Argus. 
 
 " Confound that Wilkins ! — won't he an- 
 swer the bell ? I will see." Pull, pull, pull 
 — tingle, tingle, tingle. " There, I think that 
 must fetch him. No ! Well, here goes 
 again. Confound the bell-pull ! They don't 
 know how to make bell-pulls now-a-days, 
 or this would not have come off in my 
 hands." 
 
 "Wilkins! Wilkins!" shouted Mr. Price 
 at the door, after he had thrown the delin- 
 quent bell-pull out of the window. A triple- 
 voiced echo, proceeding from the throats of 
 the housemaid, cook, and scullion-wench, an- 
 swered, " Wilkins, Wilkins, Wilkins !" 
 
 d 5
 
 58 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Well, hur's a comin'. What dost make 
 a pother for ?" replied Mr. Wilkins. 
 
 " Master's in his tantarums, and has rung 
 twice fit to bust the bell," said the cook. 
 
 " He's been a swearing like mad," said the 
 housemaid. " And a holloring like winkin'," 
 said the scullion. 
 
 " I heard hur all the time, but I know'd 
 what hur wanted, and I could not get the 
 urn to bile. Hur won't hiss, do all I can," 
 said Wilkins, as he wended his way to the 
 breakfast-room. 
 
 "Won't hiss? — what won't hiss, you old 
 fool ?" said his master. 
 
 " Why this here urn ; hur won't hiss a bit, 
 though hur knows her biles. Hur's as silent 
 as the grave." 
 
 " It is tacit-urn, that's all," said Mr. Price ; 
 and, in laughing at his own shocking bad 
 pun, he forgot to abuse Wilkins for five 
 minutes. At last, his laughter was ex- 
 hausted, and his rage broke out. 
 
 " Where is your mistress ?" 
 
 " Hur don't know." 
 
 " Where is her niece, Mary Owen ?"
 
 OF OXFORD. 59 
 
 " Hur can't say." 
 " Where is the postboy ?" 
 " Hur's putting up hur pony." 
 " Where are the letters and papers ?" 
 " Hur's got him in hur pocket." 
 " There, leave off fiddling about the table, 
 and go and fetch the letters, and call the 
 ladies, and go — anywhere you like after- 
 wards." 
 
 Wilkins deliberately altered the position of 
 every knife, fork, plate, dish, and teacup ; 
 coolly surveyed the effect of the new arrange- 
 ment, and walked slowly out of the room. 
 His master thrust his hands to the very bot- 
 tom of his breeches'-pockets, whistled a 
 Welsh air — not a very lively one — called 
 Wilkins an old fool, and told him he would 
 discharge him the moment breakfast was over. 
 Wilkins heard the threat, but he had heard 
 it so often before that he thought nothing 
 about it. As he happened to meet the scul- 
 lion-wench in his way to his pantry, he told 
 her to tell the cook to let the housemaid 
 know that she was to inform the ladies'- maid 
 that the Squire was waiting breakfast for
 
 60 GREAT TOM 
 
 their mistresses. He then sauntered into the 
 stable-yard, and, after inquiring of the letter- 
 boy all the news he had heard at the post- 
 town, asked for the letters. When he had 
 carefully examined the postmarks, speculated 
 on the handwriting of the directions, and in- 
 spected the seals, he walked leisurely into the 
 house to deliver them ; but on his way it 
 struck him he might as well have the first 
 look at the newspaper ; so he turned into his 
 pantry, burst the envelope, and spelt the 
 leader, while he was pretending to air the 
 paper. Having satisfied himself that there 
 was no prospect of an immediate change of 
 government, and that the funds were not 
 likely to be affected by any political event, 
 he took the toast-rack and the contents of 
 the letter-bag up to his master. 
 
 " Give the letters to me, and the paper to 
 your master," said Mrs. Price. 
 
 " Put them all down together here, by my 
 side, sirrah, and leave the room," mumbled 
 Mr. Price, through the folds of a large slice 
 of ham. 
 
 Wilkins looked first at his mistress, and
 
 OF OXFORD. 61 
 
 then at his master ; and, as he did not wish 
 to offend either of them, gave the letters and 
 papers to Miss Mary Owen, and vanished. 
 
 " Pack up !" screamed the Squire ; " you 
 go directly after breakfast." 
 
 " How can you, Mr. Price ? Really, you 
 put yourself in such passions, that, what with 
 anger and hot tea, your face looks apoplectic 
 at this moment. You'll have a fit, depend 
 upon it," said the lady. " Mary, my love, 
 give me the letters." 
 
 " At your peril !" screamed the Squire ! 
 " you — you, who are living here upon my 
 bounty — you dare to disobey ! pack up ! 
 that's all." 
 
 " Dear uncle, dear aunt," said Mary, burst- 
 ing into tears, " what am I to do ? how am I 
 to act?" 
 
 " Pooh ! nonsense, girl ! — Mary — my dear 
 child — I did not mean — there, don't cry ; give 
 your aunt all the letters directed to her, and 
 hand the rest to me — there, don't be a fool — 
 leave off crying — give me a kiss and another 
 slice of ham." 
 
 Mary obeyed all the orders as well as she
 
 62 GREAT TOM 
 
 could ; but, as the tears made her eyes dim, 
 she could not read the directions clearly, 
 and gave one of her uncle's letters to her 
 aunt. 
 
 " Delightful ! " said the lady ; " here is 
 the Oxford postmark — a letter from dear 
 Owen." 
 
 " Not directed to you, I'll take my affi- 
 davit; my son Owen always writes to me. 
 Give it to me. Mary, it is abominable." 
 But Mary was too much interested in the 
 contents of her cousin's letter to heed her 
 uncle. 
 
 " What can it matter to which of his 
 parents Owen writes ? It equally concerns 
 us both," said Mrs. Price, as she broke the 
 seal. 
 
 The Squire said something which sounded 
 very like an oath, and, seizing the paper, 
 dashed it open with his right hand, just as 
 players think it proper to open a letter on the 
 stage, and pretended to be deeply interested 
 in its contents. 
 
 " Cadwallader, my dear, Owen tells us that 
 he has taken his degree," said the lady.
 
 OF OXFORD. 63 
 
 ' Ha ! hum ! he ! Stocks a degree worse, 
 I see," said Mr. Price, quoting the paper. 
 
 " And he says that there are to be grand 
 doings at Oxford this summer. The Duke is 
 to be installed as Chancellor." 
 
 " Ha ! hum ! first of May — grand proces- 
 sion of sweeps." 
 
 " He wishes us to pay him a visit." 
 
 " Hum ! ha ! the visiting justices com- 
 plained of great extravagance, and " 
 
 " He has hired lodgings for us." 
 
 " And lodged a complaint against the 
 governor." 
 
 " Cadwallader, my dear, do you hear? 
 Hand the letter to your uncle, Mary." 
 
 Mary did so. The old gentleman coquetted 
 for a time ; but his curiosity, and his anxiety 
 to hear from his only son, induced him to 
 drop his paper to read the letter, parentally 
 and parenthetically thus : 
 
 " ' Dear Governor,' (disrespectful) ' I am 
 happy to tell you that I am now an A.B. 
 The fees came to .£17 odd' (and very dear 
 too.) ' We are to have a scrimmage,' (what
 
 64 GREAT TOM 
 
 the deuce is that ?) ' a regular shind y' (oh ! a 
 slang phrase for a town and gown fight — 
 hope he'll get thrashed) 'this term. The 
 Duke is to be installed ' (my coach-horses are 
 in-stall-ed every night — ha ! ha !), ' all the 
 world will be here, so you must come up, and 
 bring the governess' (meaning you, mam) ' and 
 my dear cousin. Lodgings are very dear, 
 but I have hired you a sitting-room and two 
 bed-rooms, in the High Street, at only five 
 guineas' (a month?) 'a day.' (Oh! Lord ! — 
 ruin — ruin !) ' You can breakfast and dine 
 in the hall, and it will be put down in my 
 battels' (yes — and I shall have to pay for it.) 
 ' We shall have lots of champagne ; and you 
 may as well bring your cheque-book with 
 you, as I should like to get rid of my ticks' 
 (so would my sheep.) ' I don't owe much, 
 but should not like to leave the 'varsity' (slang 
 again) ' owing anything — but you know all 
 about that. 
 
 * Your affectionate son,' (yes, very !) 
 
 1 Owen Price.' 
 " Know all about that. Yes," said Mr. 
 Price. " Don't owe much — a hem !"
 
 OF OXFORD. 65 
 
 a 
 
 Well, my love, Owen seems to have got 
 through his career creditably." 
 
 " With a great deal of credit, no doubt. 
 Most men do. There were Hugh Williams, 
 and William Hughes, and Owen Roberts, and 
 Robert Owen, your relations, madam, left it 
 with great credit — to the amount of .£1,500 
 among them." 
 
 " Well, my love, you had better write and 
 say what day he may expect us." 
 
 " Do, dear uncle ; I do so long to see Ox- 
 ford," said Mary. 
 
 " Don't doubt it ; but no, I will not go ; 
 it would cost me — let me see — post-horses, 
 turnpikes, inns, and lodgings — it would cost 
 at least " 
 
 " What can it matter what it would, cost, 
 Mr. Price? You are rich enough to afford 
 it. You have only one child, and plenty of 
 money, which — " 
 
 " Which I made by my own exertions. 
 Did I not work like a slave while I was at 
 the bar, to redeem the family estate, and buy 
 out the button-maker from Birmingham, who 
 was mortgagee over the property? I have
 
 66 GREAT TOM 
 
 worked hard, Mrs. Price, and do not intend 
 to squander my money away ; besides, what 
 do I care for shows and ceremonies, and 
 
 " Though you are too old to enjoy such 
 scenes, you ought not to forget that younger 
 persons " 
 
 "Madam — Mrs. Price — although I am 
 twenty years your senior, and made an ass of 
 myself by marrying a young woman, I am 
 not too old to enjoy myself; I can walk ten 
 miles with any one, now — and to prove it to 
 you, I will enjoy myself — I will go up to 
 Oxford, renew my old acquaintances " 
 
 " If there are any of them left," said Mrs. 
 Price, sotio voce. 
 
 " — — and drink champagne to excess, 
 just to oblige — not you, madam, but my niece, 
 there. Wilkins, take away, and bring me the 
 portfolio and inkstand." 
 
 Mrs. Price, having gained her point, 
 beckoned to her niece, and both of them left 
 the room to look over their silks and satins, 
 and to see what would be wanting for their 
 visit to Oxford.
 
 OF OXFORD. 67 
 
 Wilkins, having cleared the table, stood 
 before his master, and, smoothing down his 
 gray hairs, said, " Hur's packed up, and ready 
 to go." 
 
 " Go ! you old fool, where do you mean to 
 go?" 
 
 " Hur don't know." 
 
 " Who'd engage such a plaguy fellow as 
 you ? — an old donkey that has grown gray in 
 my service, eh ? — Go ? yes, go and get what 
 I ordered you ; and hark ye, Wilkins, you 
 must order a new suit of livery, for I mean to 
 take you up to Oxford with me." 
 
 " Oxford !" cried Wilkins, showing as much 
 astonishment at the notion of his master's 
 going to that beautiful city, as if he had not 
 heard every word of his young master's letter 
 read. " Oxford ! hur should like to see it 
 once more, for her liked it much when hur 
 was up at college with hur master." 
 
 " Ah, Wilkins, that's many years ago now," 
 said Mr. Price ; " yet I can recollect many 
 scenes and many familiar faces, that time 
 ought to have blotted out of one's memory." 
 
 " Does hur recollect carrying away the
 
 68 GREAT TOM 
 
 sign of the Mitre, and nailing it over Dean 
 Jackson's door ?" 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! yes — well — well, it was pro- 
 phetic, however. He was a bishop soon after !" 
 
 " Hur remembers, too, stealing the college 
 laundress's board, and putting it in Surgeon 
 Steven's window, so that every one who passed 
 by saw plainly written up, ' Mangling done 
 here?'" 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! yes — Wilkins — poor Jones got 
 expelled for that job; he lost his gown in 
 running away from the Proctor, and was fool 
 enough to offer five shillings reward for its 
 recovery." 
 
 " And hur master escaped, because her 
 knocked down the bull-dog who was carrying 
 hur off to college." 
 
 " You did — you did — and got your 
 knuckles cut against his great teeth. You 
 don't forget the town and gown fight at Car- 
 fax, on the 5th of November ?" 
 
 " Hur never can ; how you did knock 
 about that big bargeman — one, two, three, 
 down he went." 
 
 " Up he was again — right and left — there
 
 OF OXFORD. 69 
 
 he had it — he rushed in — I caught him under 
 my left arm, and hammered away at his head 
 with my right hand." 
 
 " Hur tried to trip you up." 
 
 " Could not, though — I was too strong for 
 him ; full of ale and spirits — animal ones, I 
 mean — at last he gave in — three cheers for 
 the gown, and home to college before we were 
 caught by the Proctors ; hurrah ! those were 
 jolly days." 
 
 Both master and man had got so excited 
 by their reminiscences, that, without knowing 
 it, they were sparring at one another as if 
 about to re-enact the fighting scene. Sud- 
 denly, however, the Squire dropped his arms, 
 looked very foolish, and, having given a loud 
 cough, said, 
 
 " This is very silly ; we must forget it all, 
 Wilkins ; we must forget all our youthful 
 follies — go — go — fetch the inkstand and port- 
 folio." 
 
 Wilkins looked more foolish than his 
 master, for, as he turned to go, he saw his mis- 
 tress and her niece standing at the door and 
 laughing at the extraordinary scene which
 
 70 GREAT TOM 
 
 they, unobserved by the performers, had 
 witnessed. He ran away faster than he 
 had ever done, since he ran away from the 
 Proctors. 
 
 Mr. Price, after endeavouring to explain 
 away the strong impression of his youthful 
 improprieties, which he was fearful he had 
 made upon the minds of the ladies, sat down 
 and wrote to his son, to tell him the day and 
 hour when he might expect to see him at Ox- 
 ford. 
 
 " Come, Price Owen," said Owen Price to 
 his cousin, Mary's brother, " finish that cold 
 beef and the tankard. I must get all cleared 
 away and made tidy before the governor 
 
 arrives." 
 
 Price Owen was not very long in fulfilling 
 his cousin's wishes. He took a long draught, 
 and handed the silver vessel across the table 
 to show that he had done his duty. Owen 
 Price, finding that there was not above half a 
 pint left, absorbed it. They were both Welsh- 
 men, and, as Oxford men firmly believe, 
 Welshmen drink nothing but beer ; though
 
 OF OXFORD. 71 
 
 they disguise it under the alias of coorooh, or 
 some such queer name. 
 
 " At what hour will my uncle be here ?" 
 inquired Price Owen. 
 
 " In time for dinner. I have ordered a 
 neat little spread from that prince of cooks, 
 brother Jubber, to be ready in his lodgings 
 at six o'clock." 
 
 " Where have you put them ?" 
 
 " At the print-shop just opposite St. Mary's. 
 Capital place to see everything and every- 
 body, and very cheap, considering." 
 
 " How do they travel?" 
 
 " Post, of course ; in the old family tub 
 that the governor calls a carriage. I have 
 taken care to secure four good horses at every 
 stage on this side of Bath." 
 
 " Four ? Why, uncle is doing things more 
 liberally than usual, is he not?" 
 
 " Rather so ; but when he does make up 
 his mind to do anything out of the common 
 way, he does it handsomely." 
 
 " Would it not be as well just to set your 
 rooms to rights a little before he arrives ? — 
 just to put these whips, foils, and boxing-
 
 72 GREAT TOM 
 
 gloves out of sight; take down one or two 
 sporting prints, and that spinning opera 
 dancer — eh ?" 
 
 " No, no. The governor knows I indulge 
 in little follies and fooleries, and I have no 
 wish to play the hypocrite. There is nothing 
 vicious in driving, riding, fencing, or spar- 
 ring ; and, as to mademoiselle there, he knows 
 I never saw the original of the picture in my 
 life." 
 
 " You don't mean to let the ladies criticize 
 your furniture, I presume. Here's a hearth- 
 rug !" (holding up a thing full of holes and 
 poker-burnings). " There's a looking-glass !" 
 (pointing to a mirror with a diverging crack 
 across it, such as is seen on the ice, when a 
 little boy throws a large stone upon it.) " Just 
 look at those curtains, and that legless sofa !" 
 
 " Oh ! never mind. They know that I am 
 in my last term, and about to third the valu- 
 ables to the next comer-up, and will make 
 due allowances. Here, however, is a little 
 document that will rather astonish the gover- 
 nor and try his temper," said Owen Price, as 
 he unfolded a long paper with three red lines,
 
 OF OXFORD. 73 
 
 filled with figures, extending down to its very 
 bottom. 
 
 " What the dickens is that?" inquired 
 Price Owen. 
 
 " Merely a list of my ticks — that is all." 
 
 " All ? What is the amount of the all?" 
 
 " Only some £749 1*. 5%d." 
 
 " Whew !" whistled Price Owen, with his 
 eyes starting out of his head. 
 
 " You may well whistle, considering you 
 are almost a fresh-man. I did not think 
 that I had contracted debts to one quarter 
 the amount. The governor gave me a fair 
 allowance, and I paid bills every term, but, 
 you see — there it is — I cannot dispute an 
 item of it. The ruinous system of ticking is 
 injurious both to the giver and taker of credit. 
 Take warning by this little document, cousin 
 — mind and pay ready money for everything." 
 
 " I have done so hitherto, but I have been 
 sorely tempted to infringe the rule I have 
 laid down ; for things are thrust upon you, as 
 it were, and you are so politely requested to 
 allow the sellers to book them, with an assu- 
 rance that you will be allowed to consult 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 GREAT TOM 
 
 your own convenience as to the time of pay- 
 ment, that it is difficult to resist." 
 
 " The system is a very bad one. Every- 
 body allows it to be so, and no remedy has 
 yet been found to correct it effectually. I 
 am weak enough to fancy that if an act were 
 passed making University-men's debts irre- 
 coverable in any court of law, after they had 
 been contracted more than six months, it 
 would put an end to the long-ticking system 
 altogether." 
 
 " And save much misery to both vender 
 and buyer," said Price Owen. 
 
 " But a truce to this. There ire the bills, 
 justly due to as honourable a set of tradesmen 
 as any in the country — though it is the fashion 
 to abuse them — and the governor must find 
 the wherewith to discharge them." 
 
 " He will be in a terrible passion," said 
 Price Owen. 
 
 " He will, for a time ; a very little puts 
 him out of temper ; but I am not afraid ; for, 
 let him examine the bills — which he will do, 
 for he is a man of business — and he will find 
 none among them for the effeminacies of
 
 OF OXFORD. 75 
 
 Oxford life — tarts, trinkets, and trumpery — - 
 but all for manly sports and pastimes, row- 
 ing, hunting, shooting, fishing, and driving, 
 in which he himself once delighted." 
 
 " I am grateful — especially under these 
 circumstances — that I have as yet managed 
 to pay my way with the income derived from 
 ray scholarship, and the allowance which my 
 uncle, your father, kindly allows me. 1 owe 
 all to you, Owen Price ; for, had it not been 
 for your kind and disinterested suggestions in 
 my behalf, I should have been nailed to a 
 lawyer's desk all my life." 
 
 " My suggestions were not perhaps so dis- 
 interested as you imagine. You are a mere 
 boy of seventeen, and do not know the 
 world" (the speaker was nearly three-and- 
 twenty). " When you are as old as I am, 
 you will look for a motive — a selfish one, too 
 — in the actions of every man." 
 
 " I can imagine but one motive, and that 
 only half-selfish, in which you were actuated 
 in your kindness towards me," said Price 
 Owen, taking his cousin by the hand. 
 
 " And that is " 
 
 e2
 
 76 GREAT TOM 
 
 " An affection — more than cousinly — for 
 my sister Mary." 
 
 " You are right. I am not ashamed to tell 
 you that I love your sister, and on her account 
 was anxious to promote the wishes of her 
 brother. We have been brought up together 
 from children, and her beauty, aided by her 
 virtues and amiable qualities, have made an 
 indelible impression upon my heart." 
 
 " But my uncle ?" 
 
 " Does not, I believe, suspect my feelings 
 towards her, although your aunt, my mother, 
 I am persuaded, both sees and encourages 
 them ; but I am resolved to speak openly to 
 him on the subject, for I never have a wish to 
 conceal anything from him that is not mean 
 and dishonourable." 
 
 " Success attend you! I could not wish 
 for Mary a more desirable lot than to be 
 united to you." 
 
 " Enough. Now let us walk out and see 
 what the world — for all the world is here on 
 this occasion — is doing with itself." 
 
 The cousins walked arm-in-arm down the 
 quiet Turl without meeting a soul ; but when
 
 OF OXFORD. 77 
 
 they reached the High Street they found it 
 filled with gownsmen of all ages and degrees ; 
 strangers of every rank in life, from the hum- 
 blest labourer to the titled landowner ; from 
 peasant to peer ; and ladies, beaming with 
 beauty and dressed with taste and elegance, 
 who walked or rode, attended by their assi- 
 duous swains and their watchful chaperons 
 and guardians. A gayer scene was never 
 witnessed ; care seemed to be banished ; joy 
 sat on every face ; delight beamed from every 
 eye. The houses and shops looked as if 
 dressed in holyday garbs, and the windows 
 above the basement stories were filled with 
 gazers on the merry crowd below. Suddenly 
 the tide of strangers seemed to be ebbing 
 from the town, and it appeared as if the High 
 Street would soon be at low-water mark. 
 Horsemen and carriages pressed through the 
 foot-people, and were urged, as hastily as the 
 crowd which impeded their way would permit, 
 towards Magdalen Bridge. 
 
 " Make haste, or you will be too late," 
 said a college friend to the cousins, as he was 
 hurrying by them.
 
 78 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Too late for what ?" asked Price. 
 
 " To meet the Duke — come along — -all the 
 men are halfway to Iffley by this time." 
 
 With pushing and squeezing, amidst expos- 
 tulations and apologies, the three young men 
 forced their way down the High Street, and 
 over the bridge to the London road. It was 
 lined on either side with an uninterrupted 
 row of spectators, between whom were sta- 
 tioned carriages of every description. The 
 eyes of all were directed towards the emi- 
 nence above Oxford called Rose Hill ; and for 
 some time nothing was seen but the dense 
 mass of human beings, and the lines of car- 
 riages, waiting to greet the hero of the age. 
 Suddenly, however, a thick cloud of dust ap- 
 peared, coming like a mist over the hill; a 
 body of horsemen was seen dashing down the 
 ascent, and a cry of " The Duke ! the Duke !" 
 flew from mouth to mouth. The bells from 
 every tower struck up a joyful peal, loud 
 shouts rent the air, and caps and hats were to 
 be seen whirling about in all directions. 
 
 A space was speedily cleared in the centre of 
 the road by a body of gownsmen on horseback
 
 OF OXFORD. 79 
 
 and on foot. On came the plain green chariot 
 containing the new Chancellor; and, as his 
 ear caught the stormy shrieks of welcome, 
 and as his eye gazed on the crowds assembled 
 to greet him, his iron soul, as the papers call 
 it, was subdued ; a peculiar muscular action 
 about the mouth, and a nervous application of 
 the tongue to the parched lips, showed that 
 the man who stood calmly and coolly gazing 
 on the plain of Waterloo, while the fate of 
 two mighty nations were suspended in the 
 balance, was moved — painfully moved — by 
 the excitement of the scene before and around 
 him. 
 
 "Hurrah! hurrah! the Duke, the Duke! 
 long live the Duke ! Three cheers for our 
 Chancellor ! — hurrah ! hurrah — hurrah — ah 
 —ah !" 
 
 Amidst crushing, rushing, shrieking, and 
 screaming, the rolling of carriages, the tramp- 
 ling of horses' feet, and the booming of bells, 
 the Duke was borne to the Vice-Chancellor's, 
 whose lodgings were the centre of attraction 
 for the remainder of that memorable day. 
 
 Slowly and with difficulty did Owen Price
 
 80 GREAT TOM 
 
 and his cousin extricate themselves from the 
 crowd : they were heated and excited. Both 
 were " hoarse with bawling." Each had suf- 
 fered a loss ; for Owen Price had lost his cap, 
 and Price Owen had had his scholar's gown 
 deprived of half its fair breadth and pro- 
 portions. 
 
 " Never mind," cried the elder ; " come 
 along, or we shall be too late to receive the 
 governor — an offence he would never forgive." 
 
 Away ! up Cat Street, across by the Rad- 
 cliffe Library, up Exeter Lane, and into the 
 Turl, they sped ; a turn to the right, a spring 
 across the street, and they were within the 
 college-gates. A rush up stairs into Owen 
 Price's rooms showed them that they were in 
 time to meet their friends, for the apartments 
 were unoccupied. 
 
 " Come, come, Price Owen, let us dress as 
 speedily as possible, for we look pretty ob- 
 jects, what with the dust, the perspiration, 
 and the struggles we have been through." 
 
 " I have not a dry thread about me, and 
 my mouth, throat, eyes, and ears, seemed 
 filled with burning sand."
 
 OF OXFORD. 81 
 
 " Away with you, then, to your rooms ; 
 and as soon as you have made yourself com- 
 fortable and presentable, return here to meet 
 and greet your friends ; and I say, old fellow, 
 if you should see a scout in quad, do just 
 order a tankard from the buttery." 
 
 A few minutes sufficed to restore their per- 
 sonal appearance ; and Owen Price was not a 
 little pleased to see his cousin return, followed 
 by a scout, bearing a huge silver cup, filled 
 with mild ale. " The Duke !" shouted he, 
 before he placed the vessel to his lips. " The 
 Duke !" cried the other, ere he handed it, ex- 
 hausted, to the scout ; and bade him go follow 
 their example, at his expense, in the buttery; 
 an order of which John was not slow to avail 
 himself. 
 
 " Hark !" cried Owen Price, " hark ! I hear 
 the rumble of wheels ; that must be the go- 
 vernor ; I can swear to that particular roll of 
 the tab anywhere. Here they are, pulled up 
 at the gates ; let us run and meet them." 
 
 Down rushed the eager pair, four or five 
 steps at a spring, and dashed through the 
 portals just as the steps were being let down. 
 
 E 5
 
 82 GREA.T TOM 
 
 " My dear boy !" cried the Squire. 
 
 " My dear Owen !" said the mother. 
 
 " Dear brother, dear cousin," whispered 
 Mary. 
 
 " How do ye do ? how do ye do ? Glad to 
 see you. Ah ! Wilkins, is that you ? how 
 are you ?" 
 
 " Hur's almost choked with the dust." 
 
 "Well, never mind, you shall wash that 
 away presently. You know the buttery — 
 eh?" 
 
 " Hur used to know it well," said Wilkins, 
 winking. 
 
 " It stands just where it used to stand. So, 
 do you and Lucy go on to the lodgings, and 
 get the things unpacked, and we will follow 
 on foot. Postboy, drive on to the printseller's, 
 opposite St. Mary's." 
 
 Away rumbled the tub with the two ser- 
 vants. The Squire, too happy at seeing his 
 son and nephew and his old college again, 
 had quite forgotten to put himself in a pas- 
 sion with the postboy for having driven too 
 slow, or too fast — he had forgotten which. 
 He grasped the boys' hands, gave a violent
 
 OF OXFORD. 83 
 
 rap on the ground with his stick, looked np 
 and down the Turl, gazed on the college-gates, 
 and seemed to fancy himself young again. A 
 deep sigh, however, as he dropped his eyes, 
 put his left arm behind his back, and walked 
 into college, leaning heavily on his stick, 
 seemed to show that the fancy had given place 
 to a strong conviction that he had been dream- 
 ing of " long, long ago." 
 
 " What a room !" cried Mrs. Price. " I 
 declare I never saw such a place in my life." 
 
 " It is rather out of sorts : but you know, 
 dear mother, I am just going to give up my 
 rooms — so you see I did not think it necessary 
 to go to any expense in — " 
 
 " Quite right, boy, quite right," said the 
 Squire. " I recollect, when I went down for 
 good, my rooms were not much better." 
 
 " But, heavens ! what a carpet ! — what a 
 rug ! and Mary, my dear, do not venture to 
 sit down on that sofa, nor on any of the chairs 
 — they will soil your new silk pelisse !" 
 
 "Pooh! pooh! madam, sit down, I insist 
 upon it, while I go to call on the Principal. 
 I never came up to Oxford in my life without
 
 84 GREAT TOM 
 
 going to pay my respects to the head of the 
 college before I did anything else." 
 
 Owen Price accompanied his father to the 
 door of the Principal's lodgings, and, when 
 he had seen him admitted, ran back to his own 
 rooms to take the opportunity of having a 
 little private talk with his mother and Mary. 
 They had a longer chat than any of them 
 could have anticipated ; but the Squire had 
 got upon " the days gone by " with the Prin- 
 cipal, who was a man of his own standing, 
 and forgot the rapidity with which time was 
 flying, until reminded of it by the college 
 clock striking five. 
 
 A few minutes sufficed to enable the visitors 
 to reach the apartments provided for them. 
 The dinner was nicely served and admirably 
 cooked. The Squire pronounced it excellent, 
 and flew out only once to blame his son for 
 not having ordered a brown George and a 
 dish of sausages, forgetting that the latter 
 were out of season, and that the former was 
 only eaten at breakfast. He drank freely of 
 champagne, and urged the ladies to follow 
 his example, but left " the boys" to do as
 
 OF OXFORD. 85 
 
 they pleased, knowing any exhortation on 
 the subject would be a mere waste of words. 
 He even insisted on Wilkins's drinking one 
 glass to the health of the Duke ; but Wilkins 
 begged to be excused, saying — 
 
 " Hur never liked pop, and would rather 
 drink to his Grace in the buttery. Hur 
 knew what ale was made of." 
 
 " Sorry to hurry you, my dear father, but 
 push on the claret ; we must not sit over our 
 wine, but take the ladies into Christ Church 
 Meadow to see the boats come in," said Owen 
 Price. 
 
 " What ! a boat-race ?" cried the Squire ; 
 " bumpers round — here's success to the crews 
 — hurrah ! I remember the time when I 
 pulled stroke myself." 
 
 " There will be no race this evening, uncle, 
 but a splendid sight ; all the boats row down 
 to Iffley and up again two or three times, in 
 the order of their flags." 
 
 " Flags ! Iffley ? I don't understand. In 
 my days, we had no flags, and always pulled 
 up to Medley or Godstow," said the Squire. 
 
 " Well, never mind, my dear; let us go
 
 86 GREAT TOM 
 
 and see them. Come, Mary Owen will take 
 care of you, and your brother of me," said 
 Mrs. Price. 
 
 " And I may take care of myself, I sup- 
 pose. Well, never mind. One more bumper 
 though before we go. Oxford ! — for with all 
 thy faults I love thee still ! — Oxford ! glo- 
 rious old Oxford ! hurrah ! my boys, hurrah !" 
 The Squire drank the bumper to the dregs ; 
 end, in his excitement, threw the glass over 
 his shoulder, and smashed it to pieces. He 
 f hen seized his cane, and looked round, as 
 much as to say, " Let any one laugh at me 
 that dares." No one felt disposed to smile 
 even, for his feelings were understood and 
 respected. 
 
 What crowds filled thy meadow, oh ! house 
 founded by eighth Henry and his Chancellor, 
 on this joyful evening ! Never had Oxford 
 witnessed such a multitude of all that is 
 great and good in this favoured land before, 
 and never can it again. Royalty trod the 
 same path with the humble artisan. Peers 
 and peeresses mingled with tradesmen and 
 their wives. Lords were shouldered by
 
 OF OXFORD. 87 
 
 commoners, and ladies contended with semp- 
 stresses to gain the most favourable positions 
 for seeing the procession of boats. Pride had 
 forgotten its own existence, and pomposity 
 was at a most lamentable discount. 
 
 " Here they come ! Hurrah, Christ Church ! 
 Hurrah, Brazenose ! Go it, Baliol !" roared 
 the Squire. His fine, hearty voice was heard 
 above the murmuring of ten thousand tongues, 
 and a universal shout rent the air as boat 
 after boat, manned by crews of as fine young 
 men as are to be seen anywhere, swept by to 
 the barge. Again and again was the shout 
 raised, until Isis trembled within her sedgy 
 banks, and enthusiasm almost grew into 
 madness. 
 
 A crowd of young men had, as usual, filled 
 the top of the barge. In a sudden lull of 
 the mighty storm of shoutings, one of them 
 took off his hat and cried, " A cheer for the 
 Duke !" All the other cheers appeared like 
 a mere murmur of distant waves to this. It 
 was astounding — frightful. A dead silence 
 followed, and men gazed in each other's faces, 
 as though they would seek there an explana-
 
 88 GREAT TOM 
 
 tion of the feelings that possessed them- 
 selves. 
 
 " Come home — come home, boys — I can- 
 not bear it, it is too much," said the Squire, 
 as the tears coursed each other down his 
 cheeks. " This is worth living for ; but 
 come home — come home. What are you 
 snivelling for, you sons of guns ?" 
 
 A quiet chat over the coffee-tray closed the 
 evening ; at which Mr. Wilkins could not 
 officiate, for he was paying his respects to 
 the buttery-tap, and talking over old times 
 with the aged college servants. 
 
 Mr. Owen Price did not think it right to 
 risk the equanimity of his father by laying 
 before him the account of his ticks on the 
 first evening of his arrival ; but, on the fol- 
 lowing morning, after a hearty breakfast in 
 his own rooms, at which the brown Georges 
 were not forgotten, he contrived to induce 
 his mother and cousin to go to their lodgings 
 under the protection of Price Owen, and pre- 
 pare for the theatre, while he had a little 
 conversation with the Squire. 
 
 > 

 
 OF OXFORD. 89 
 
 " My dear father," said he, as he put the 
 long list of £. s. d.'s into his hand, " I am 
 afraid you will think me very extravagant; 
 but I think it best to confess that I have 
 exceeded the very liberal allowance you 
 made me, and am in debt, as you will see by 
 this paper." 
 
 "Hum — hum — let me see. Wine mer- 
 chants — tailors — dinners at hotels — a new 
 skiff — a sailing-boat — hum — hum — total 
 amount — what ? Hang me if I pay it ! I 
 never heard of such extravagance. I'll lay 
 it before the Vice-Chancellor, and have the 
 men discommoned. I'll expose it and you to 
 the whole world," cried the Squire, as he laid 
 his heavy hand upon the document, with a 
 thump that made the breakfast things dance 
 upon the table. 
 
 His son did not reply, but stood the very 
 picture of a penitent spendthrift, until his 
 father had exhausted a vast fund of vitupe- 
 rative eloquence, and worked off his passion. 
 He then ventured to hint at his sorrow for 
 his past follies ; to which he added a pro- 
 mise of amendment for the future, and a hope 
 
 ■V,
 
 90 GREAT TOM 
 
 that he might not be permitted to disgrace 
 his family by leaving the University in debt. 
 
 This last was an able thrust, which the 
 high-minded country gentleman could not 
 parry. After a long lecture on the impro- 
 priety of his son's proceeding, and a threat of 
 disinheritance if he ever contracted another 
 debt, he took a cheque out of his pocket- 
 book, and filled it up with an order upon his 
 bankers, sufficient to cover the whole amount. 
 
 Just as Owen Price had locked up the 
 cheque in his desk, poor Wilkins made his 
 appearance, looking very seedy indeed, from 
 his overnight's indulgences, to inquire at what 
 hour the carriage would be wanted to take 
 the ladies to the theatre. So favourable an 
 opportunity of getting into a violent pas- 
 sion was irresistible. The Squire had good 
 grounds to go upon, he thought, and he 
 abused his old servant as a beer-drinking sot, 
 and told him to pack up and quit his service 
 immediately. Wilkins listened respectfully, 
 but without the slightest signs of contrition 
 in his countenance ; and, when the order to 
 pack up had been repeated for the third or
 
 OF OXFORD. 91 
 
 fourth time, calmly said, " Hur only had a 
 quart or two, and it was impossible hur could 
 taste all the taps and not get a little fuddled. 
 Hur didn't think, however, that the ale Avas 
 anything like so good as it was in his ho- 
 nour's under-graduate days." 
 
 " Of course not," said the Squire, and 
 talked himself cool again in proving the de- 
 generacy of everything since his college 
 days — even of the brown Georges — which he 
 attributed to the passing of the Reform Bill, 
 and the admission of the Roman Catholics 
 into Parliament. He ended his oration by 
 ordering the carriage to be at the door in 
 less than half an hour. 
 
 As the ladies were not quite ready when 
 Wilkins announced the carriage, Mr. Price 
 had another excellent excuse for displaying 
 his iracundity. He scolded his lady and poor 
 Mary, not only down the stairs, and as they 
 were getting into the carriage, but during all 
 the tedious half hour that it took the postboy 
 to drive them, about five hundred yards, to the 
 gates of the theatre. Mrs. Price took no no- 
 tice whatever of her husband's harangue, but
 
 92 GREAT TOM 
 
 amused herself by looking at the crowds of 
 carriages and the throngs of people that filled 
 Broad Street. Poor Mary, who was sadly 
 afraid of her uncle, would have burst into 
 tears at some of his severe remarks, had not 
 her cousin been present to give her courage to 
 endure them. Even his presence might not 
 have sufficed to repress her rising tears, for 
 the snail's pace at which they progressed 
 made the Squire more irritable than usual ; 
 but fortunately for her the pole of the car- 
 riage next to them in the rank was driven 
 with such violence against them that it 
 crushed the back panel, and justified the 
 owner in calling to Wilkins to get down and 
 let him out, in order to rebuke the coachman 
 for his gross carelessness ; from which he 
 was diverted, however, by the apologies of 
 the ladies who filled the interior of the of- 
 fending vehicle. 
 
 At length Mrs. Price and her niece were 
 placed under the charge of one of the pro- 
 proctors, and escorted into the theatre, where 
 they were soon seated in the centre of the 
 ladies' gallery. The Squire went round to
 
 * OF OXFORD. 93 
 
 the door leading to the area which is set 
 apart for masters of arts and strangers ; and 
 Owen Price, with Price Owen, who had been 
 riding on the rumble with Wilkins, joined the 
 throng of men who had to make their way 
 into the under-graduates' gallery. 
 
 Mr. Price's temper was not improved by 
 having to stand for nearly an hour in a dense 
 crowd, waiting for the doors to be opened. 
 He made many indignant speeches to his 
 neighbours on the right and left ; but, as they 
 had not been introduced to him, they did not 
 think it necessary to reply, which made him 
 still more angry. At length, however, the 
 bolts were withdrawn, and the doors thrown 
 open. A rush ensued, and with a feeling of 
 suffocation, a sense of painful oppression on 
 his lungs, a throbbing of the heart and tem- 
 ples, as though they were about to burst, the 
 Squire found himself in the midst of the area, 
 and gazing on such an assemblage of beau- 
 tiful women as he had never seen before. 
 
 The sight calmed his boisterous temper for 
 a time ; but the heat was so great, and the 
 crushing so fearful, that he was about to
 
 94 GREAT TOM 
 
 force his way out of the building, when a 
 noise was heard like the charge of heavy 
 cavalry over rocky ground, or the rumbling 
 of a volcano before an eruption. The mass 
 of people in the area, which had been waving 
 to and fro like a corn-field in a gale of wind, 
 stood immoveable, wondering what the awful 
 sound could portend. Louder and louder it 
 grew. Shrieks, cries, and groans were heard, 
 mingled with the crash of broken glass, and 
 loud shouts of "Go on, go on — air, air, give 
 us air — break every window !" 
 
 The doors leading to the under-graduates' 
 gallery had been opened, and the young men, 
 eager to gain front seats, were so crowded 
 together on the narrow staircases, that they 
 impeded one another's progress. At length 
 they gained the gallery, and rushed in with 
 loud shouts ; some had lost their caps, others 
 had had their gowns torn off their backs — -all 
 were as wet with perspiration as if they had 
 been dragged through a field of Swedish tur- 
 nips on a dewy morning. What cared they 
 for that ? As soon as they had filled the gal- 
 lery, they agreed to fill up the time that was
 
 OF OXFORD. 95 
 
 to elapse before the Chancellor would appear. 
 The name of some political character was 
 mentioned and received with shouts of ap- 
 plause, or groans and hisses, according to the 
 estimation in which he was held by this por- 
 tion of the rising generation of England. 
 Then followed the names of the Univerity 
 authorities, the Vice-chancellor, Proctors, 
 Pro-proctors, and Heads of Houses. The 
 crews of the various boats were proposed 
 amidst loud hurrahs, and then " The Ladies !" 
 which elicited such a shout as fairly astounded 
 the fair causers of it. 
 
 " Silence, silence ! the Duke, the Duke !" 
 screamed a man from the area. The theatre 
 was as silent as the grave — a pin might have 
 been heard to fall. The organ struck up a 
 joyous air — the large doors in the centre of 
 the building were thrown open. The proces- 
 sion entered, and Wellington took his seat in 
 the Chancellor's chair. 
 
 What pen can describe the awful excite- 
 ment of that moment ! It was fearful — men 
 cried as they shouted ; the ladies stood trem- 
 bling with agitation, as the tears ran from
 
 96 GREAT TOM 
 
 their eyes; and for some ten minutes the 
 Duke sat, nervously touching his parched lips 
 with his tongue, and seemingly deeply affected 
 by the scene before him. 
 
 At length he rose to open the business of 
 the convocation. It was a signal for renewed 
 shouts, which lasted so long, that he turned 
 his eyes imploringly to the galleries, and was 
 aided by the authorities present in trying to 
 procure silence. All in vain — shout after 
 shout rent the air, until the men were com- 
 pletely exhausted,, and gave in from a phy- 
 sical inability to continue. 
 
 It is not my intention to give a detailed 
 account of all that occurred on this memo- 
 rable occasion. It is fresh in the memory of 
 thousands, and will never be forgotten by 
 those who witnessed it. One circumstance 
 I must record, for it made such an impres- 
 sion upon me as no lapse of time can erase. 
 Among the many odes recited in the theatre, 
 complimentary to the Chancellor, was one 
 written and spoken by a clever youth, who 
 ably alluded to all the scenes in which the 
 Duke had been engaged. A vivid and heart-
 
 OF OXFORD. 97 
 
 stirring description of all his achievements in 
 India, Spain, and France, was listened to in 
 breathless silence ; but, when he ended his 
 ode with the talismanic name of Waterloo, 
 three thousand human beings rose as one in- 
 dividual, so simultaneous was the movement, 
 and a shout was raised that was heard dis- 
 tinctly on Headington Hill. The Duke is said 
 to have wept from excitement. 
 
 But I must return to my party. 
 
 Mr. Cadwallader Price had been one of the 
 most energetic actors in the scenes I have 
 faintly portrayed. He had shouted until he 
 was hoarse, and applauded until his hands 
 were sore. Had any one in his vicinity ven- 
 tured to give utterance to a dissentient sound, 
 he would assuredly have knocked him down ; 
 but, as everybody was almost as enthusiastic 
 as himself, he left the theatre in good humour 
 with all the world, and waited for the ladies, 
 the young men, and the carriage, without a 
 murmur. 
 
 As soon as a change of dress was effected, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 GREAT TOM 
 
 which was rendered necessary from the heat 
 of the theatre, Owen Price took his friends 
 
 to College, where he had an invitation 
 
 to an archery meeting and a luncheon in the 
 gardens. The shooting was said to have 
 been remarkably well executed ; but, as 
 Owen Price rather despised such perform- 
 ances, he amused himself with talking to 
 his pretty cousin, until the " gentlemen 
 sportsmen" laid aside their bows and arrows 
 and escorted their fair visitors to the pa- 
 vilion, where refreshments were prepared for 
 them. 
 
 Pop — pop — pop — a perpetual popping was 
 heard, as bottle after bottle of champagne 
 was uncorked ; indeed, so much of what was 
 called champagne was imbibed in Oxford 
 during this Commemoration week, that the 
 price of perry rose in Herefordshire to an 
 unprecedented height. 
 
 Mr. Price was thirsty ; the wine was nicely 
 iced. He drank with every lady near him ; 
 and when he had exhausted his fair friends, 
 he challenged the gentlemen, and then began 
 to cut jokes and make puns, and finally to
 
 OF OXFORD. 99 
 
 deliver complimentary speeches, which he 
 might have prolonged to dinner-time, had not 
 the gentlemen left him to resume their shoot- 
 ing, and taken the ladies with them ; so that 
 he was left with only one auditor, his unfor- 
 tunate nephew, Price Owen, whom he held fast 
 by the button of his coat until his oratory 
 was exhausted. 
 
 A dinner at six o'clock, in the College 
 Hall, was followed by a dance. Of course 
 champagne flew about as liberally as possi- 
 ble, and of course the elderly gentlemen who 
 did not join in the dance amused themselves 
 with a quiet talk and a little claret in the 
 common room. Old stories were raked-up, 
 former pranks recorded, and many a sigli 
 heaved to the memory of companions now 
 " withered and gone." 
 
 To say that Mr. Price was in the least 
 degree tipsy would be false, but he was ex- 
 cited by the events of the day, and a little 
 overcome by the strength of his feelings and 
 the number of toasts he had drunk. When 
 eleven o'clock came he retired to his lodgings, 
 with all his party, in one of those queer hu- 
 
 F 2
 
 100 GREAT TOM 
 
 mours that men are wont to fall into when 
 they have taken a little too much, and not 
 quite enough to make them see everything in 
 its brightest light. He was rather sleepy, 
 and very prosy between his short naps. He 
 would not go to bed, but would have a glass 
 of soda water, and would give a long account 
 of all the proceedings of the day, as he 
 sipped it. At length he talked himself to 
 sleep, and his son took the opportunity of 
 begging his cousin Mary to sit down to the 
 piano-forte and sing him a song. 
 
 Mary could not refuse. She struck a few 
 chords, and was about to begin a little Welsh 
 air, when her uncle woke up, and expressed his 
 surprise that anybody should think of making 
 a noise at that time of night, when, it was 
 very evident, he was tired and anxious to go 
 to bed. " But it is just like you girls — always 
 wanting to show off!" 
 
 Mary explained that she was going to sing 
 merely to oblige her cousin. Mrs. Price 
 corroborated her explanation, and Owen Price 
 and Price Owen gave their evidence to the 
 same effect. The black cloud of ill-humour,
 
 OF OXFORD. 101 
 
 however, had spread itself over the mind of 
 the old gentleman, and he grew so cross and 
 peevish at last, that his wife took her niece 
 by the arm and led her from the room. 
 
 " There — there," said the Squire, " that is 
 the way in which I am treated — not even a 
 parting word — not even a good night." 
 
 " My dear father ; Mary — " 
 
 " My dear uncle, my sister, I am sure — " 
 
 " Is a good-for-nothing, ungrateful hussy. 
 I will rid my house of her, and turn her out 
 into the world to gain a livelihood as a 
 governess." 
 
 Owen Price was " a chip of the old block ;" 
 and his passionate disposition, which, accord- 
 ing to some theories, he must have inherited 
 from his father, was more uncontrollable than 
 usual, from the excitement caused by the 
 day's proceedings, and the uncalled-for se- 
 verity of the old gentleman's remarks. In 
 spite of all his cousin could do to prevent 
 him, he " made a clean breast of it," as Old 
 Bailey counsellors call making a confession, 
 and revealed to his astonished paternity 
 his love for his cousin, and his full de-
 
 102 GREAT TOM 
 
 termination to make of her a Mrs. Price 
 junior. 
 
 Cadwallader was too angry to speak ; he 
 whistled vehemently for some minutes, and 
 then rushed to the door, and screamed for 
 his wife and niece to come back immediately. 
 They, thinking that something very serious 
 was going on, quickly made their appearance, 
 and demanded the cause of their beino- sum- 
 moned so loudly. 
 
 " Ask that young gentleman, madam, who 
 is walking about there like a poet in a fit of 
 inspiration," said Mr. Price, thrusting his 
 hands, according to his custom when enraged, 
 to the very bottom of his pockets. 
 
 "What is the matter, my dear Owen?" 
 said the mother. 
 
 " Cousin Owen, what have you done to 
 offend your father so grievously?" inquired 
 Mary. 
 
 " Only what I ought to have done long 
 since — confessed my love for you, and my full 
 determination to make you mine. I know 
 that our affection is mutual, and that my
 
 OF OXFORD. 103 
 
 good mother will not throw any obstacles in 
 the way of our union." 
 
 Owen seized Mary's hand as he spoke, and 
 she threw herself upon his shoulder and wept. 
 Mrs. Price and her brother bade her be com- 
 forted, and not give way to her tears. 
 
 " There, madam, there — you hear him ; 
 you see him — all this is vastly agreeable, 
 when you, he, and she, know very well that I 
 had set my heart on his marrying Miss Doro- 
 thea Williams, the owner of Dingley Park, 
 that joins on to my estate — three hundred 
 acres of freehold land, and without an in- 
 cumbrance — you know it, madam." 
 
 " I know nothing of the sort," said Mrs. 
 Price. 
 
 " Then you ought to have known it by in- 
 stinct, madam !" said the Squire, bouncing his 
 hand on the table. 
 
 " Dorothy Williams, sir ! " cried Owen 
 Price ; " why, she is an old lady — thirty, if 
 she is a day." 
 
 " Yes, sir, and has a thousand pounds in 
 the funds for every year she has lived."
 
 104 GREAT TOM 
 
 " I will not marry her, I am determined ! 
 If I am not allowed to marry my dear Mary 
 here, I will live single all my life, and extin- 
 guish our branch of the family tree," said 
 Owen Price. 
 
 " Owen, dearest Owen, do not provoke my 
 kind uncle. Say no more to-night, and per- 
 mit me to retire," sobbed Mary. 
 
 " Ay — retire — go, go — but hear me before 
 you go. I shall order the carriage to the 
 door at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, to 
 leave Oxford. You will all be ready to ac- 
 company me, or dread my severest displea- 
 sure." 
 
 Vain were expostulations or entreaties ; the 
 old gentleman remained firm, and Wilkins was 
 sent for from the buttery, and sent, half in- 
 toxicated, and totally disgusted, to the Mitre, 
 to order four horses on to Farringdon at nine 
 in the morning. Lucy, who was tired to 
 death with the gaieties of the day, was or- 
 dered to pack up immediately. 
 
 " Now, madam, you and your niece will be 
 good enough to retire ; and you boys will go 
 home to your rooms, and be ready punctually
 
 OF OXFORD: 105 
 
 at nine in the morning. I shall order a chaise 
 for you and your luggage to precede us, for 
 I shall not lose sight of you." 
 
 The ladies, or rather the elder of them, 
 tried her eloquence to induce her husband to 
 remain and see the ceremony of the Installa- 
 tion completed ; but the rage into which such 
 a monstrous proposition, under the circum- 
 stances, threw the Squire, induced the whole 
 party to obey his orders without further re- 
 mark. 
 
 Owen Price would have followed the ladies, 
 and endeavoured to persuade his cousin to 
 elope with hiin that very night, and solicited 
 his mother to accompany her as bridesmaid, 
 and his cousin, Price Owen, to ride in the 
 dickey, to be prepared to act as a father to give 
 her away, using the cheque intended to pay 
 his college bills to defray all the expenses to 
 the north and back, had not his father put on 
 his hat and insisted on seeing them to the 
 door, and into the High Street, which he did 
 just as Mr. Wilkins managed to stagger up to 
 it, and say that the horses would be at the 
 door at the hour named. 
 
 f 5
 
 106 GREAT TOM 
 
 " What can be the matter with my uncle ? 
 I have seen him in a passion — a violent one, 
 too — but I never saw him in such a rage as 
 this before. He seems more like a madman 
 than a rational being," said Price Owen. 
 
 " I cannot tell, unless the common-room 
 wine has disagreed with him, or the cham- 
 pagne turned acid on his stomach," said Owen 
 Price. 
 
 " Did he never suggest to you his wish that 
 you should marry Dorothea Williams and her 
 three hundred acres before?" 
 
 " Never. My dear fellow, you never saw 
 Dorothy, did you ?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 " Well, then, you never saw a plainer per- 
 son in your life. She is half-educated, as 
 vulgar as a housemaid, and as ugly as old 
 Wilkins. If I marry her, may I — ! " 
 
 " Say no more, but let us hope that a 
 night's rest and pleasant dreams may yet in- 
 duce the governor to forget his anger, and 
 stay out the Installation." 
 
 Morning came; and the young men, having 
 risen early to get their portmanteaus packed,
 
 OF OXFORD. 107 
 
 went to the lodgings of Mr. Price. He was 
 up and ready to receive them, in a much 
 worse humour than he had displayed on the 
 previous evening. Mrs. Price assured them 
 that she had not had an hour's sleep, as he 
 had tossed and tumbled about in bed all niffht 
 long, and talked of nothing but Dorothy 
 Williams, three hundred acres of freehold 
 property, thirty thousand pounds in the funds, 
 and a very odd sensation about the pit of his 
 stomach. Mary made the breakfast without 
 saying a word ; but her eyes showed that she 
 had been crying. Wilkins walked the room 
 as if eggs were strewed on the carpet and he 
 was afraid of treading on them ; and Lucy, 
 the ladies'-maid, trembled when she came 
 into the room. 
 
 " The bill !" screamed the Squire. 
 
 Wilkins flew, and returned with the print- 
 seller, bearing the document in his hand. 
 
 " Infamous !" 
 
 " Really, sir, considering the few Installa- 
 tions that do occur in a man's life, I 
 think—" 
 
 " And what business have you to think ?
 
 108 GREAT TOM 
 
 There's your money, sir, and I hope it may 
 do you good." 
 
 The printseller bowed, and retired hastily. 
 
 " Why is not the carriage at the door?" 
 
 " Hur is," said Wilkins. 
 
 " Then why didn't you say so ?" 
 
 " Hur hadn't a chance." 
 
 In a few minutes all were embarked ; and 
 the heavy tub, preceded by a hack-chaise, 
 took the road towards Bath, up the High 
 Street, just as the gay crowds were assem- 
 bling to go to the theatre, to view the second 
 day's proceedings of the Installation. 
 
 Mrs. Price ventured to hint to Mary how 
 much she should like to view them, when the 
 angry Squire thrust his head out of the car- 
 riage-window and bade the boys drive faster, 
 on pain of forfeiting their tips. 
 
 At every stage they travelled through, the 
 Squire's temper got worse, and he complained, 
 first of a severe pain, he could not tell where; 
 at last, he confessed that he was ill — very ill 
 —and had a most uncomfortable sensation in 
 the ball of his great toe, for which he could 
 not account. When they arrived at the York
 
 OF OXFORD. 109 
 
 House, in Bath, where they were to stop for 
 the night, he went to bed at once, and a phy- 
 sician was sent for. 
 
 Dr. came, and was announced, but 
 
 the Squire said " he would not see him or 
 anybody. Bring me the paper, Wilkins, and 
 do not let me be interrupted." 
 
 Wilkins brought the " Bath Journal," and 
 sat down in the arm-chair by the bedside. 
 For a few seconds all was quiet. Suddenly 
 the Squire cried out, " Send for the doctor ; 
 I may as well let him poison me off at once, 
 for all my hopes are ended — my plans are 
 frustrated ; that old cat, Dorothy Williams, 
 has married her lawyer!" 
 
 It was true — Dorothy had eloped extraor- 
 dinarily. 
 
 Dr. felt his patient's pulse, asked him 
 
 a multitude of questions, and, putting on an 
 extra solemnity of face, pronounced the dis- 
 order to be an attack of gout. 
 
 " Gout? — impossible ! I never had it be- 
 fore in my life," said the Squire. 
 
 " Very probably," said Dr. ; " but, 
 
 when elderly country gentlemen go up to
 
 110 GREAT TOM 
 
 Oxford to witness an Installation, and indulge 
 in under-graduate champagne, they must not 
 be surprised if a fit of indigestion is converted 
 into a fit of the gout." 
 
 Mr. Cadwallader Price was so very com- 
 fortable when the gnawing of ten thousand 
 rats was no longer felt at his great toe, that 
 he placed Mary's hand in his son's, and bade 
 them be as happy for the remainder of their 
 lives as he was at that moment. 
 
 The cousins never regretted the Squire's 
 visit to the Installation.
 
 OF OXFORD. 1 1 1 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BABBINGTON DRONEHAM, THE QUIETEST 31AN 
 IN COLLEGE. 
 
 Impium 
 
 Lenite clamorem, sodales. 
 
 Horace. 
 
 " You are not gone to sleep ; indulging in 
 sweet oblivion, as fine-talking ladies say ?" 
 inquired Great Tom. 
 
 " I am as wide awake," said I, " as a de- 
 tective-service police-officer on a dangerous 
 duty." 
 
 " But you don't laugh," said Tom. 
 
 " I respectfully beg leave to contradict 
 you," I replied ; " I laugh within myself." 
 
 " Within me, you mean." 
 
 " Both. I am afraid to give vent to a re- 
 gular burst." 
 
 "Afraid? Why?"
 
 
 112 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Lest I should bring down the weight of 
 your heavy displeasure upon me," said I, 
 
 and extinguish myself for ever." 
 
 Pooh — pooh ! I am sound enough — as 
 right as a mail-coach. I wish I may be shot 
 if I ain't ! These words remind me of a man 
 who was up here — I don't mean in this belfry, 
 but up in college — some years since when there 
 were such things as mail-coaches, whose guards 
 called ' all right,' and whose drivers kept time 
 to a second. He was a nice young man — very 
 particular nice. Shall I tell you his story ?" 
 
 " If you will excuse me now," said I, " I 
 would rather " 
 
 " Cut and run — slip off into bed ? I see 
 — but you have not a chance. You have 
 taken an inside place in my rotonde, and here 
 you stop until Nox has done his work, and 
 given up the reins to Phoebus Apollo." 
 
 " Then the story, by all means ; for it's 
 very hard lying — " 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so. Some 
 men find it easier than speaking the truth." 
 
 " I mean lying here upon the floor," said I. 
 
 " Few men like to be floored, and as this
 
 OF OXFORD. 1 1 3 
 
 is your ' first appearance on these boards,' I 
 have no doubt you feel a little queerish ; but 
 never mind, consider it a night rehearsal, 
 when there is no fear of apples, orange-peel, 
 or hisses from boxes, pit, or gallery." 
 
 I began an expostulation, but the con- 
 founded hammer came down " Bom ! bom ! 
 bom !" and as soon as the awful sound had 
 made its escape through the windows to let 
 the Oxford people know what o'clock it 
 was, Tom commenced his kind tale thus : — 
 
 In a retired spot near the borders of Wych- 
 wood Forest lived one Mr. David Droneham. 
 He cultivated his own estate — a small farm 
 of some two hundred acres ; that is, he fancied 
 he cultivated it, though in reality the whole 
 was under the management of a working bailiff. 
 Giles Darman, though he was called a farming 
 servant, was really his master's master, and a 
 very despotic master he was. David Droneham 
 was a great agriculturist in theory ; Giles Dar- 
 man despised theory, and relied entirely on 
 practice. If the master, who took in all the 
 publications relating to agriculture that were
 
 1 1 4 GREAT TOM 
 
 issued, hebdomadally, monthly, and annually, 
 from the press, and was frequently taken in 
 by the writers of them, ventured to purchase 
 any new implement which was to work won- 
 ders at half the cost of time and labour 
 required by the old implement, his man in- 
 variably pretended to be struck by its inge- 
 nuity and utility, and to have it damaged in 
 some way or other the very first time its 
 powers were tested. If a piece of wheat was 
 to be drilled, the patent drill was sure to 
 be found minus a wheel or an important 
 screw, or something or other. If a rick was 
 to be thrashed out in a day, the machine was 
 sure to be out of order. The patent plough 
 was noseless after a ten minutes' trial ; and 
 as to artificial manures, Giles had a method 
 of rendering them valueless, and grinned 
 maliciously in his master's face as he pointed 
 out to him the " dead failure " of the acres 
 on which they had been used. 
 
 David Droneham was vexed at the little 
 success which attended his introduction of all 
 the newest inventions, but he was not to be 
 easily defeated. He tried and tried again.
 
 OF OXFORD. 115 
 
 until his machine-maker's bills for new en- 
 gines and repairs of the same consumed the 
 profits of the farm, and left him without an 
 income to live upon. 
 
 Giles Darman grinned the more mali- 
 ciously when his master proved to him from his 
 books that he was losing money, and of 
 course attributed it to his folly in not being 
 satisfied to go on as his forefathers had done 
 before him. The master uttered a bold negatltr, 
 but the man undertook to prove the truth of 
 his premises and conclusion. A most illogical 
 quarrel ensued, which ended in Giles Darman's 
 being turned off by his indignant master, and 
 another bailiff, a north countryman, an adver- 
 tiser in some Farmer's Gazette or Journal, 
 who boasted of having thoroughly acquired a 
 knowledge of the theory and practice of agri- 
 culture, being engaged at a high salary in his 
 place. 
 
 David Droneham would have been happy 
 with his new bailiff, whose opinions so closely 
 accorded with his own : but, whenever a new 
 experiment was to be tried, a new live-labour- 
 saving machine to be tested, the experimen-
 
 116 GREAT TOM 
 
 talist was sure to see the face of Giles Dar- 
 man, with a most contemptuous sneer upon 
 it, grinning at him and his bailiff through the 
 barn-doors, or a gap in a hedge-row. In vain 
 did he warn him off his premises, serve him 
 with notices of actions for malicious tres- 
 passes, and have him up before the magis- 
 trates. Giles despised the warnings, lighted 
 his pipe with the notices, and showed a sove- 
 reign contempt of court as he paid his fines 
 to the magistrates' clerk. 
 
 Unluckily, the season proved unfavourable 
 to mangel-wurzel, Swedish turnips, and Ita- 
 lian rye-grass. The cattle, too, were blown 
 by getting access to a field of patent clover 
 that was to yield some ten or twelve tons to 
 the acre ; and at the gathering of the harvest 
 the patent wheat, drilled in a patent way, 
 was found to yield a mere nothing. Sad was 
 the heart of David Droneham when he was 
 compelled to acknowledge to his new bailiff 
 that he must decline his valuable assistance 
 for the future, from want of means to pay 
 him his high salary, and to carry out his in- 
 genious theories.
 
 OF OXFORD. 117 
 
 The bailiff could do no more than express 
 his sorrow at being compelled, by adverse 
 circumstances, to quit a master who was pos- 
 sessed of a mind so thoroughly unfettered by 
 old-fashioned prejudices, and ask him for a 
 written opinion of his conduct and abilities. 
 This was readily given ; and as David Drone- 
 ham shook the experimental bailiff by the 
 hand at parting, he heard a loud laugh in his 
 rick-yard, and saw Giles Darman dancing 
 with delight on the top of a patent winnowing- 
 machine, and throwing his arms about like 
 the sails of a windmill. 
 
 David was in a great passion, as well he 
 might be. What should he do ? Shoot him ? 
 It was a dangerous experiment, and might 
 be attended with serious results. Should he 
 let the great dog loose, and set him at him ? 
 Pooh ! Tiger knew Giles better than his own 
 master, and would not even show his teeth at 
 him. He made up his mind to give his men 
 a quart of his strongest beer all round, to 
 thrash him with their flails ; but he recol- 
 lected that all the flails had been superseded 
 by a patent thrashing-machine, and that his
 
 118 GREAT TOM 
 
 men were in a sulky, rebellious mood at the 
 introduction of his new-fangled nonsenses, 
 which they firmly believed were invented to 
 rob them of their means of living. David 
 Droneham, therefore, wisely contented him- 
 self with shaking his fist at his tormentor, 
 and rushed into his parlour to hide his indig- 
 nation, and to examine into the state of his 
 affairs. 
 
 The result of the examination induced him 
 to put the writings, as title-deeds are called 
 in the country, of his little estate into his 
 pocket, and ride over to Charlbury, to consult 
 his attorney about raising a certain sum of 
 money upon them, to relieve him from his 
 most pressing embarrassments. 
 
 The lawyer promised to supply " the need- 
 ful," but at the same time seriously advised 
 his client either to let the farm, and live upon 
 the rent of it ; or to take Giles Darman into 
 his service again, and permit him to manage 
 it on the old and successful plan. To the 
 latter proposition a decided refusal was given : 
 " he would die sooner than give such an im- 
 pudent fellow such a triumph over him."
 
 OF OXFORD. 119 
 
 To the former plan, after much proing and 
 coning, he assented : the farm was advertised 
 to be let, and within ten minutes of the ap- 
 pearance on the barn-door of the bill which 
 proclaimed the fact to the world of Wych- 
 wood, Giles Darman was in his former em- 
 ployer's parlour. He offered to become his 
 tenant, and put down half-a-year's rent in 
 advance ! This was too much : David looked 
 at Giles, and at the yellow canvas bag that 
 contained the money — money saved in his 
 own service — and with a fearful oath bade 
 him leave the room. 
 
 Giles only grinned : his old master rose 
 from his seat, and bade him begone. Giles 
 began an argument, but, before the first pro- 
 position had passed his lips, a huge leaden 
 inkstand flew through the air and knocked 
 him down. Before he could scramble up 
 again, and cleanse his eyes and mouth from 
 the ink, that filled them like an overflow 
 of the river Niger, he felt a heavy horsewhip 
 applied to his arms, back, head, legs, and 
 face, as, in his convulsions and struggles to 
 escape the blows, each part presented itself
 
 120 GREAT TOM 
 
 to the view of the angry inflictor of the 
 punishment. 
 
 Giles escaped as soon as David was ex- 
 hausted, and presented himself in a shocking 
 plight before the nearest magistrate, and de- 
 manded a warrant for the assault. The 
 worthy justice, who had had to inflict many 
 penalties on Giles for wilful trespasses upon 
 his former employer's grounds, and knew what 
 an impudent, aggravating rogue he was, re- 
 fused to grant the warrant upon his mere ipse 
 dixit, and without corroborative evidence. 
 Giles first expostulated, then became abusive, 
 and, at last, was turned out of the house by 
 the magistrate's servants ; who, in reply to 
 his recitation of his ill-treatment, consoled 
 him by telling him, in the words of a Wilt- 
 shire jury's verdict, that " it sarved him 
 right." 
 
 Giles took his revenge thus : he stationed 
 himself in the road that led to David's house, 
 and accosted every farmer who rode over to 
 look at the land to be let ; and, after telling him 
 that he had been bailiff on it for many years, 
 left him with a full assurance that the farm
 
 OF OXFORD. 121 
 
 was not worth above half the rent that the 
 owner asked for it. The consequence was, 
 that David Droneham failed to get a tenant, 
 and, from persevering in his new system of 
 farming his land upon his own account, he 
 became more deeply involved. 
 
 More money was advanced upon " the 
 writings ;" but David Droneham knew that 
 such a mode of proceeding must ruin him at 
 last. But what could he do ? No one would 
 take the farm, and he began to be convinced 
 that he could not make it profitable himself 
 unless he gratified Giles Darman, by return- 
 ing to a system which he had deprecated and 
 despised. That would never do. He thought 
 and thought again, until it occurred to him 
 that he might carry on the farm upon scien- 
 tific principles, triumph over his old bailiff, 
 and repay the moneys advanced upon the 
 writings. How ? By marrying a lady with 
 the wherewithal. 
 
 David Droneham was doubly a widower : 
 he had been married twice, and was rather 
 advanced in life. Unlike his estate, he was 
 without an incumbrance. He had never had 
 
 VOL. i. g
 
 122 GREAT TOM 
 
 a child. David looked in bis glass, and al- 
 though he saw reflected a remarkably squat 
 person, surmounted by a very ugly face, he 
 did not despair. He dressed himself in his 
 best white cords, newest top-boots, sprucest 
 blue coat, and ordered his horse. Before he 
 mounted, he bade one of his men catch a 
 very fine peacock that was spreading its tail 
 on the lawn, and bear it before him to the 
 house of a wealthy widow lady, who dwelt on 
 
 the confines of the parish of . The 
 
 Widow Babbington, he knew, greatly admired 
 this bird, for he had often seen her drive her 
 pony-carriage slowly by his door to gaze 
 upon its beauties. He was resolved that the 
 bird should be the basis on which his claims 
 should be rested, and thought it would do for 
 a love-bird, as well as a Venus's dove. 
 
 The bird was conveyed safely, and David 
 saw his man place it on the grass-plot before 
 he knocked at the door. He saw the widow 
 come out, and admire the proud bird as it 
 strutted about with expanded tail. " Now or 
 never," said he ; and, ere she was aware of 
 his presence, he was at the widow's side. An
 
 OF OXFORD. 123 
 
 invitation to drink tea was given and ac- 
 cepted ; and David Droneham made such 
 good use of his opportunity, that the widow 
 thought him much less like an ourang-outang 
 in the face when he left her, than she did 
 upon his arrival. " Repetatur haustus" said 
 David to himself, and the following day saw 
 him at the widow's, to inquire after the pea- 
 cock. Argus, with any one of his hundred 
 eyes, would have seen that the widow was 
 pleased with his polite attentions. David 
 stayed to dinner and tea, and before supper 
 had begun the sieo-e in due form. The out- 
 works were completed before he left, and in 
 less than a month the citadel was taken. The 
 peacock was carried back to its former home 
 on the top of the carriage which conveyed its 
 master and mistress from the parish church. 
 
 For six weeks David was a happy man, for 
 he travelled about from place to place with 
 his wealthy wife, and visited every model- 
 farm he could hear of in his route. When he 
 returned home from the wedding trip, he told 
 his lady of all he meant to do in the way of 
 farming. The north- country experimental 
 
 g 2
 
 124 GREAT TOM 
 
 bailiff was to be sent for immediately, and an 
 extensive order given for new patent ridging, 
 turnip-cutting, and other machines, and won- 
 ders were to be done upon the land. 
 
 The lady listened attentively to all his 
 plots and plans ; and when they were fully 
 disclosed to her, quietly told him that he 
 should not play at ducks and drakes with 
 her money, and squander it away, as he had 
 done his own, upon a parcel of tomfooleries. 
 
 David was amazed ; but he was still more 
 amazed when he heard Mrs. Droneham re- 
 commend him, as the best thing he could do, 
 to take Giles Darman into his service again, 
 and let him manage the farm in his own 
 way. 
 
 "I'll suffer any torments sooner than con- 
 sent to take that impudent fellow into my 
 employment again. I never will consent to 
 such a thing," said David. 
 
 " Yes, you will, my dear, but take your 
 own time about it." 
 
 David held out for three long months, and 
 then gave in. Mrs. Droneham had held a 
 private talk with the village doctor, and en-
 
 OF OXFORD. 125 
 
 gaged a respectable old lady to be ready by 
 about a certain day to take up her residence 
 with her for a month or six weeks. He was 
 likely to become a parent ! and Giles Darman 
 had touched his hat respectfully as he com- 
 plimented him on the pleasing prospect. All 
 his former impudence was forgotten and for- 
 sriven. He was re-elected bailiff, and allowed 
 to plough, sow, and thrash, as his forefathers 
 had done before him. From that day David 
 prospered, although he privately attributed 
 Giles Darman's success on the farm to the 
 mode in which he had tilled the land, while 
 he had the power of cropping it and manuring 
 it on scientific principles. 
 
 In due time a boy was born to his happy 
 parents ; in due time he was christened, and 
 called by his mother's name of Babbington, 
 which was also her maiden name, as she had 
 married her first cousin. The little fellow 
 throve and grew rapidly, and was one of the 
 quietest and best-conducted children at the age 
 of ten years that could be found in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Wychwood Forest. Then, alas ! 
 he lost his mother, who took care to have all
 
 126 GREAT TOM 
 
 her fortune settled upon her child, fearing lest 
 David, as soon as he was a free agent, should 
 make ducks and drakes of it by resuming his 
 tomfooleries. The widower-for-a-third-time 
 had no such designs. He was cured of his 
 rage for novelties by prospering under the 
 old system ; but then he would call Bab- 
 bington " a model child," and that made his 
 mother suspect that he was secretly thinking 
 of a " model farm." 
 
 Master Babbington Droneham had never 
 been out of his mother's sight since he was 
 born, except when he was in bed ; and then, 
 to be safe, he slept in a sort of closet within 
 her own room. He had been petted, though 
 not spoiled, in the usual sense of that word. 
 She had taught him nearly all she knew her- 
 self, so that he could read, write, and cipher, 
 as well or better than most children of his 
 age. All boyish sports, however, had been 
 forbidden. Bats, balls, tops, and marbles, 
 he knew only by name ; but he could amuse 
 himself with a needle, a pair of scissors, and 
 a sheet of paper, as well as a little girl ; and 
 could cut ladies out of pocket-books, and
 
 OF OXFORD. 127 
 
 colour them to the life. All his pursuits had 
 been sedentary ; for he never went out but 
 with his mother. He was not allowed to stroll 
 about the farm with his father, lest he should 
 get his clothes dirty and his feet wet. In 
 short, he was what Giles Darman pronounced 
 him to be — " a little mollycoddle." 
 
 Giles resolved to, what he called, " save 
 the boy, and make a man of him." 
 
 "I wonder, sir," said he to his master, 
 " that you don't send that little fellow out to 
 school." 
 
 " Never, Giles — his mother's wish was 
 that he should be educated at home, and then 
 sent up to Oxford," replied David Drone- 
 ham. 
 
 " To be made a parson of, I suppose." 
 
 " Your supposition is a wrong one, then ; 
 Master Babbington Droneham is to be 
 brought up as a gentleman, like his father." 
 
 " Upon scientific principles ?" inquired 
 Giles. His master gave Giles a look that 
 reminded him of a certain leaden inkstand 
 and a heavy horsewhip, so he said no more on 
 that subject.
 
 128 GREAT TOM 
 
 u 
 
 I really think the young gentleman (a 
 stress on the latter word) looks as if he 
 wanted fresh air. His cheeks are as white as 
 a turnip, and they tell me he don't know a 
 plough from a harrow. If you were to let 
 him walk about the farm with you, sir, it 
 would do him good." 
 
 " His mother always dreaded damp feet," 
 said the father. 
 
 "Then order him a thick pair of boots, 
 sir; rely upon it, a little out-door exercise 
 will do him ffood." 
 
 David Droneham thought the matter over 
 in his mind, and felt convinced that what 
 Giles had suggested was the best plan to 
 pursue. Master Babbington, therefore, soon 
 appeared in a dress suitable for following his 
 father to the field ; and, when once the boy 
 had fully tasted the sweets of freedom and 
 fresh air, nothing could keep him within the 
 house. He was here, there, and everywhere, 
 in fine weather and foul ; and, as he had no 
 playfellows meet for him, he associated with 
 the plough-boys and men about the farm. 
 They were astonished at his gross ignorance of
 
 OF OXFORD. 129 
 
 all boyish sports, and earnestly set about initi- 
 ating him into the mysteries of taws and alleys, 
 cricket and football, and such other games as 
 they themselves delighted in. Giles, more- 
 over, " put him up to" a great many things 
 of which he had better have remained igno- 
 rant altogether, or, at all events, for many 
 years to come ; for he taught him to ferret 
 rats and rabbits, to trap birds and wire hares, 
 and even to shoot flying ; but, worst of all, to 
 do all these things, and never to let his father 
 or anybody else know that he could do them. 
 This was the boy's first lesson in the art of 
 deceiving, and so well did he learn it, that 
 neither David Droneham, nor any of the 
 family within doors, had the most distant 
 notion how his time was employed. If he 
 robbed the henroosts and sucked the eggs, he 
 put back the shells and gave the rats the 
 credit of the robbery. He kept ferrets and 
 rat-dofrs, but it was down at Giles Darman's 
 cottage. His £un and his fishing-tackle were 
 never seen at home, and he always had a tale 
 ready to account for any extraordinary ab- 
 sence from the house or any peculiar appear- 
 
 G 5
 
 130 GREAT TOM 
 
 ance in his outward boy. To the servants 
 and his father he appeared unchanged, except 
 in his healthy looks and daily-strengthening 
 frame. If he went out with his father to 
 spend an evening with a neighbour, he was 
 so well-behaved and smooth in his demea- 
 nour, and so very innocent in his remarks, 
 that he acquired the title of the quietest 
 little boy in the county. 
 
 Giles was quite delighted with his success 
 as a tutor, but did not think his pupil's educa- 
 tion completed, until he had taught him to 
 smoke and drink with him, and sing " 'Tis 
 my delight of a shiny night," with proper 
 emphasis and due effect. The boy soon ac- 
 quired these arts, and could manage a pipe 
 and toss off his glass as well as his tutor. 
 But at home he never indulged in the least 
 excess. If he got a little excited at Giles's 
 cottage, he stole home by a backway, and 
 crawled up to bed, pleading a headache in 
 excuse. 
 
 For two years the boy was left to the evil 
 influence of Giles Darman, and had become, un- 
 suspected, a most perfect little scamp. Only
 
 OF OXFORD. 131 
 
 once did he forget the lesson of dissimulation 
 taught him by his tutor. A neighbour who 
 had been dining at the farm, as he sat over 
 his wine, of which Babbington had quietly 
 and unobservedly taken a larger share than 
 ordinary, remarked that he was annoyed by 
 his pointer having taken to killing his own 
 mutton. 
 
 " Cure him in five minutes," cried the boy, 
 in a tone that no one but Giles had ever 
 heard before. " Shut him up in a barn with 
 an old ram, and he will either butt his breath 
 out or give him a lesson he will never forget. 
 He won't look a grass-nibbler in the face 
 again." 
 
 David Droneham and his guest stared at 
 the quietest little boy in the county ; but 
 Babbington saw his mistake, resumed his 
 quiet tone instantly, and meekly told his 
 father that he had found the prescription in a 
 dictionary of agriculture. He then left the 
 room, and ran down to Giles to tell him how 
 he had " queered the old ones." 
 
 " Grass-nibbler ! hum !" said the guest ; 
 " I don't think I ever saw a sheep called by 
 that name in any of my reading."
 
 1 32 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Nor I," said the father. " He must have 
 caught it of the boys." 
 
 " I wonder you do not send that nice little 
 quiet fellow to school." 
 
 " I promised the late lamented Mrs. 
 Droneham not to send him from home," 
 replied David, looking very widowery. 
 
 " Then, I would have a tutor for him. He 
 is getting quite old enough for Latin and 
 Greek," said the guest. " The boy shoots 
 well." 
 
 " What ! " screamed David ;" " he never 
 saw a gun to my knowledge, except the old 
 musket used by the bird-keepers against the 
 rooks." 
 
 " All I can say is, that I saw him cut 
 down a partridge in your nine-acre piece 
 as cleverly as I could do it myself. It was 
 not the first he had killed either, by the skil- 
 ful way in which he twisted the bird's neck, 
 turned it under his wing, and pocketed it." 
 
 " Impossible ! you must have been mis- 
 taken." 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! I saw him as plainly as 
 I see you, and admired him for his skill. 
 What does he do with his pocket-money?"
 
 OF OXFORD. 133 
 
 " I do not know — I never thought to ask 
 him," said David, quite disconcerted. 
 
 " Hum ! " said the guest, but dropped 
 the subject, as it seemed an unpleasant 
 one. 
 
 David Droneham questioned Babbington 
 before he went to bed that night ; but the 
 boy denied the charge so quietly, and gave 
 such a truth-seeming account of the way in 
 which he disposed of his allowance, that it 
 almost satisfied his father that his guest must 
 have been mistaken. He could not, however, 
 help thinking about the boy before he went to 
 sleep more, perhaps, than he had ever done 
 before. The result of his meditations was, 
 that as soon as he had finished his morn- 
 ing meal he mounted his horse, and rode 
 over to the rectory of an adjoining 
 parish. 
 
 The house was occupied by the curate, a 
 quiet, pious, single-hearted man, who — to 
 relieve the disorder common to curates, and 
 aggravated in his case by a sick wife and a 
 large little family — poverty — took pupils, and 
 devoted all the hours he could spare from
 
 134 GREAT TOM 
 
 his parish to their mental and moral improve- 
 ment. 
 
 Mr. David Droneham wished, by an offer 
 of a liberal salary, to induce this gentleman to 
 attend his son at home for a certain number 
 of hours daily ; but his other engagements 
 would not permit of such an arrangement. 
 It was finally settled that Babbington should 
 attend at the rectory, and take lessons with 
 the other pupils. 
 
 The boy was not sorry to hear of the plan 
 adopted by his father ; for he longed to asso- 
 ciate with boys of his own rank in life, and 
 wished to learn something of the world in 
 which he was to live, when he came into his 
 property, of which Giles had given him a very 
 much magnified account. Had he had any 
 unpleasant feelings about the matter, they 
 would have yielded to his delight at the 
 thought of having a pony kept for him to 
 ride to and fro daily, and on which he had 
 fully made up his mind to take a gallop with 
 a pack of harriers, that were kept a few 
 miles off. Giles had often suggested to him 
 that he never would be a perfect sportsman
 
 OF OXFORD. 1 35 
 
 until he could ride up to hounds ; but neither 
 tutor nor pupil could suggest a plan by 
 which a nag could be obtained for the 
 purpose. The difficulty was now removed, 
 and the boy was resolved to profit by it. 
 
 At the end of a month's attendance at the 
 rectory, the following conversation took 
 place between Master Babbington, not yet 
 thirteen years of age, be it remembered, and 
 Giles Darman, which I record, as it will 
 show how well he had profited by Giles's 
 tuition, and give a bird's-eye view of his 
 daily proceedings. 
 
 " How do you get on ? Dost like Greek 
 and Latin?" 
 
 " Toll-loll— it's up-hill work ; but I'll ac- 
 complish it. I am not to be beaten by a set 
 of muffs, who don't know a stoat from a 
 weazel." 
 
 " How do you like your master ?" 
 
 " Oh ! well enough. He's very clever, 1 
 think, and very kind ; but so easily gam- 
 moned ! I can make him believe anything. 
 He, like the old one, and the rest of the fools 
 about him, believes me to be the quietest little
 
 136 GREAT TOM 
 
 boy in the county. I have only to say, 
 ' Papa's compliments, and begs you'll excuse 
 me to-morrow,' and he believes it as readily 
 as if it were the truth." 
 
 " What a spoony !" said Giles. 
 
 " I had a capital go yesterday : a run of 
 an hour and a half, and only got spilt once." 
 
 " Did you kill ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes :" and Babbington gave a splen- 
 did account of the run, and told it in sporting 
 phrases that would not have disgraced an old 
 thistle-whipper. 
 
 " What sort of boys are they up at 
 Rectory ?" 
 
 " Muffs, I tell you, mere bookworms. I've 
 sounded them all, and they know no more of 
 horses, dogs, or anything else worth knowing, 
 than if they had never left their mothers' 
 apron-strings. But I have not let them into 
 any of my secrets, nor do I intend to do so. 
 Close and quiet, that's my plan. Fill me a 
 pipe, and give me some grog." 
 
 Giles Darman slapped his pupil on the back, 
 and obeyed. 
 
 For three years the young lad carried on
 
 OF OXFORD. 137 
 
 his plan of deception unsuspected ; for his 
 tutor heard nothing in the shape of gossip at 
 the rectory or in his parish; and David 
 Droneham, who was beginning to feel the 
 effects of old age, toddled about his farm as 
 much as he could, and when he went in to din- 
 ner, he ate it, and fell asleep over a book or 
 a paper. He seldom saw any visitors, and 
 those he did see generally came upon busi- 
 ness, and took their departure as soon as it 
 was concluded. He was, therefore, quite 
 satisfied that his son was going on quietly, 
 and just as he wished him to go on. 
 
 To do the boy justice, he really worked 
 hard at his books, and made a greater pro- 
 gress in his classics than his fellow-pupils, for 
 he did not choose to be beaten in anything 
 he undertook. Moreover, it was a part of 
 his plan to work when he sat down to work, 
 in order that he might have more leisure to 
 sport. 
 
 Just at the commencement of his seven- 
 teenth year, at the end of which he was to go 
 to college, contrary to the advice of his tutor, 
 who wisely urged his father not to let him go
 
 138 GREAT TOM 
 
 into residence until he was nineteen, his views 
 of life were changed. A young man, his 
 senior by one year, who had retired from a 
 public school to save a sentence of expulsion 
 for some grave offence against the discipline 
 of the establishment, came down for a year's 
 tuition under the curate of . 
 
 Cecil Darell was a scion of a good 
 family, tall, handsome, and of winning man- 
 ners, not vicious, but as mischievous as a 
 monkey, and as daring as an Old Westmin- 
 ster. He was just the reverse of Babbington 
 Droneham, for he never acted the hypocrite ; 
 but what mischief he did he did openly, and 
 never denied it when taxed with it. He 
 scorned a lie, and would rather have taken the 
 blame of another's fault than screened himself 
 by betraying a friend. 
 
 Babbington was greatly pleased with Cecil, 
 and listened to his stories, of the scrapes he 
 had got into and out of, the feats he had 
 performed, and the tricks he had played, with 
 that wrapped attention which never fails to 
 please a youthful narrator. But Droneham, 
 with his usual caution — cunning would be a
 
 OF OXFORD. 139 
 
 better word — did not repose any confidence 
 in or betray himself to Darell, until he had 
 involved him in a scrape which ensured his 
 secrecy on any subject he might choose to 
 entrust to him. When they mutually under- 
 stood one another, Cecil was disgusted at the 
 low habits and associates of his companion, 
 and told him so. Giles Darman was soon 
 after this surprised to find his company 
 shunned by the boy whom he had instructed, 
 and meditated a betrayal of all that had oc- 
 curred between them to the father. He 
 thought better of it, however, for the disclo- 
 sure might have been attended by serious 
 consequences to himself; and his place was 
 too good a one to be risked merely for the 
 sake of taking vengeance on a boy, who 
 would not smoke or drink with him, or kill 
 game for his profit. \ 
 
 The boys hunted, fished, and ferreted on 
 the sly, and even stole into Kinch's hotel now 
 and then, and had a bottle of wine; but 
 beyond that, and stealing away to a coursing 
 match, or a game of cricket at Woodstock, 
 in Blenheim Park, they engaged in nothing
 
 140 GREAT TOM 
 
 which might fairly he deemed objectionable. 
 They went up together with the curate 
 
 of , to enter at Christ Church and to be 
 
 matriculated ; and, while the tutor took his 
 quiet mutton-chop at the Mitre, Cecil con- 
 trived to introduce Babbington to a few of 
 his old schoolfellows, and to show him what 
 a very lively affair a college luncheon is when 
 kindred spirits meet together, and how supe- 
 rior champagne is, as an exhilarator, to any 
 other vinous or spirituous compound. They 
 were both to go into residence in the same 
 term, and both eagerly longed for the day to 
 arrive that was to see them emancipated from 
 the true status papillaris. 
 
 The time at length arrived. Cecil Darell 
 and Babbington Droneham took possession 
 of their rooms in Peckwater Quadrangle. 
 Cards were left, invitations given to break- 
 fast, dinner, and wine-parties, and both were 
 delighted with the liberty they enjoyed. 
 There was this difTerence,however, in the young 
 men. Cecil was always getting into scrapes 
 for knocking in late, cutting chapel or lecture 
 or being seen in a row ; while Babbington
 
 OF OXFORD. 141 
 
 was never known to knock in after hours, 
 miss chapel, or be absent from lecture. It 
 was a part of his old system : the leaven of 
 Giles Darman's spirit still working in him, 
 and, like all hypocrisy, it answered for a 
 time. 
 
 " What account do you give of our new 
 
 members, Mr. ?" said the dean to one of 
 
 the college tutors ; " Mr. Droneham and 
 Mr. Darell, for instance ?" 
 
 " Mr. Darell is the better scholar of the 
 two, and might ensure a high degree if he 
 were but steady ; but I fear we shall have to 
 punish him severely for his irregularities ere 
 long." 
 
 " And Mr. Droneham ?" 
 
 " Not very brilliant, but very attentive to 
 his duties ; indeed, from all I have heard of 
 him, I believe him to be the quietest man in 
 college." 
 
 On the following morning, Babbington 
 Droneham was invited to breakfast with the 
 dean, to meet some of the quiet men. He 
 dressed himself so artistically, and behaved 
 with such propriety, that he left the dean
 
 142 GREAT TOM 
 
 with a full conviction on his erudite mind 
 that his house had met with a treasure in so 
 exemplary a young man. Had he seen him 
 exchange his sober suit of black with a white 
 tie, for a green cutaway coat and spicy neck- 
 cloth, and mount the tandem which waited 
 for him, when lectures were over, at least a 
 mile out of Oxford, he might have formed a 
 more accurate opinion of the young com- 
 moner's character ; but deans have no chance 
 of seeing such things, or the system would 
 soon be put an end to. 
 
 Cecil Darell, I am sorry to say, was rusti- 
 cated for two terms for giving a noisy party 
 in his rooms, which ended with a little bon- 
 fire in the quad ; while Babbington Drone- 
 ham, who had been the first to suggest the 
 finale, and the most active in dismembering 
 sofas, chairs, and tables, to carry it out, was 
 not even suspected to have been present at 
 the party or the fire. 
 
 When Cecil's banishment was over, he re- 
 turned to Oxford, and found his friend still 
 in high favour with the authorities, and bear- 
 ing his old title of the quietest man in col-
 
 OF OXFORD. 143 
 
 lege, although he rode races in Port Meadow, 
 larked over the country, and hunted the 
 Gehazi hounds, drove tandems, gave spreads, 
 and, moreover, took lessons in sparring of 
 professionals from London, and tested his 
 progress in the fistic art by picking quarrels 
 with the rustics who tried to prevent him 
 from galloping over their master's wheat, or 
 making gaps in the mounds. He got better 
 shooting than any man in Oxford ; and, al- 
 though he poached upon all the best manors 
 round, he, somehow or other, never was caught. 
 Cecil could not think how his friend ma- 
 naged ; but, as I said before, Babbington 
 never neglected a college-duty, never exhi- 
 bited himself in any other costume in the 
 University but such as was worn by the quiet 
 men. If he gave a party, it was never in his 
 own rooms, but at a pastrycooks or an hotel. 
 His scout was not admitted to any one of his 
 secrets; and, if any signs of a disturbance 
 were exhibited likely to require the proctor's 
 interference, he was the first to leave the 
 party and seek his own well-arranged and 
 soberly-furnished rooms.
 
 144 GREAT TOM 
 
 To a certain set only, and that not a very 
 extensive one, but one on whose members he 
 could depend for secrecy, were Jiis wild and 
 dissolute habits known. He never went out 
 of college, or was seen in the streets without 
 his cap and gown, which were readily ex- 
 changed at some man's lodgings at the ex- 
 tremity of the town, and resumed when he 
 returned from his ride or his drive. 
 
 Cecil adopted his friend's plan, and found 
 the benefit of it. His character was held in 
 higher estimation by the university autho- 
 rities, but he despised himself for the hypo- 
 crisy which he practised. He was obliged, 
 however, to practise it, or give up all his fun ; 
 for he knew that if he were found out in a 
 second breach of discipline, his previous rus- 
 tication would ensure his expulsion. 
 
 Both the young men came up in the 
 Michaelmas Term of their second year, after 
 having spent the long vacation together at 
 David Droneham's, near Wychwood Forest, 
 where they sported — that is, shot, fished, and 
 hunted — undisguisedly, with the consent of 
 their friends and neighbours. They went up
 
 x 
 
 OF OXFORD. 145 
 
 for their first examination, and passed it very 
 creditably on the same day. Of course, it 
 was requisite to give a pass-party. Cecil, in 
 spite of Babbington's advice, gave his party 
 in his own rooms, and invited every man 
 whom he knew. The consequence was that 
 the party went off badly, and ended in a riot, 
 for which he got summoned before a seniority, 
 and severely imposed — being confined to gates 
 and chapel until the task was done. Bab- 
 bington gave his party at the Mitre, and con- 
 fined his invitations to his own set. His 
 dinner and wines cost him less than the wines 
 and desert alone cost Cecil ; and the party 
 passed off, noisily it is true, but without any 
 unpleasant results beyond headaches and loss 
 of appetites at breakfast on the following 
 morning, which were set right and restored 
 by a gallop to Abingdon, and a luncheon at 
 " The Thistle." 
 
 The dean sent for Babbington just before 
 he mounted his hackney, and, seeing his 
 pallid looks, told him he was afraid he had 
 read a little too hard, and begged of him to 
 relax a little, lest his health should suffer 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 GREAT TOM 
 
 materially ; and, after having been compli- 
 mented on the respectable manner in which 
 he had passed his little-go, and on his general 
 quiet and student-like conduct in college, he 
 rushed out of my gate to the stables, mounted 
 his nag, and made " his set" laugh by de- 
 scribing his scene with the dean. 
 
 Babbington now thought that his cha- 
 racter was so firmly established, that he 
 might follow the dean's advice, and " relax 
 a little" from his excessively cautious be- 
 haviour. He was anxious to try his skill in 
 boxing with a notorious scamp, a bargeman 
 who dwelt in that nest of infamy, St. Tho- 
 mas's parish, and who had grown quite un- 
 bearable in his conduct to the gownsmen, 
 from never having been successfully opposed 
 and punished as he deserved. 
 
 There had been two or three skirmishes in 
 the streets, as there generally used to be in 
 the month of November some few years ago, 
 and there was every probability of their lead- 
 ing to a town-and-gown fight. The Big 
 Bargeman was sure to be found leading on a 
 set of low fellows ; and Babbington Drone-
 
 OF OXFORD. 147 
 
 ham expressed his intention of seeking him 
 out, and trying his science with him. Cecil, 
 although he was confined to chapel and gates, 
 was fully bent, contrary to his friend's wishes 
 and advice, on going out to see the result of 
 the trial. An opportunity was soon afforded 
 him. 
 
 He had a few friends dining with him one 
 evening about seven o'clock, among whom 
 were Babbington, and some others of their 
 own set. The second bottle of claret was 
 just unforked — for the corkscrew, like all 
 college corkscrews, was missing — when a 
 rush, as of many feet, a rumbling sort of 
 noise, like distant thunder, or the rolling of 
 the waves on a pebbly beach, was heard 
 mingled with obscure shouts and cries, which 
 grew louder and louder, and at last resolved 
 themselves into distinct sounds of " Gown, 
 gown ! Town, town !" 
 
 At the well-known, spirit-stirring sounds, 
 every man sprang to his feet. 
 
 They come, they come !" shouted one. 
 
 On with your caps and gowns, lest friends 
 mistake us for foes," cried another. 
 
 H 2 

 
 148 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Let us go out of college before an order 
 is given by the dean to close Tom and Canter- 
 bury Gates," suggested a third. 
 
 " Now, Babbington, screw up your courage 
 to the sticking-place," said Cecil ; "for be 
 assured the Big Bargeman leads them on." 
 
 "I am ready for the fray," said Babbing- 
 ton ; " but I must not be known. Lend 
 me your frock-coat and a blue tie. Now, 
 then, that will do. Instead of a commoner's 
 gown, find me a student's ; and then for the 
 honour of Oxford and the credit of Tom 
 Spring." 
 
 This was said, and the alterations in dress 
 made in half the time it has taken me to de- 
 scribe the scene. One bumper round to the 
 success of " The Gown," and down flew the 
 young men ; and, scampering across quad, 
 through Peckwater and out of Canterbury- 
 gate, rushed to the left up Oriel Lane. They 
 found themselves in a mob of some two or 
 three hundred people. Some were erect, 
 some sprawling, while others were hitting out 
 at, or stopping, the blows of their adversaries 
 amidst the shouts of victory or the groans of
 
 OF OXFORD. 149 
 
 defeat. As soon as the accession of friends 
 from Christ Church was seen by the gowns- 
 men, a louder shout of " Gown, gown !" rent 
 the air. The foes retired for awhile, and 
 took up their station between St. Mary's 
 Church and the lodgings of the Principal of 
 Brazenose. 
 
 " A charge, a charge !" shouted Babbing- 
 ton. " I see the champion of St. Thomas's." 
 
 " A charge, a charge !" cried Cecil, second- 
 ing his friend. 
 
 " A charge, a charge ! — on gown, on !" 
 screamed a hundred voices ; and, like a stone 
 hurled from an engine, the university men 
 sprang forward upon the enemy, and, by 
 sheer weight and pluck, dislodged them from 
 their position, and sent them flying in scat- 
 tered parties into the midst of Radcliflfe 
 Square. 
 
 The Bargeman fought well, and tried to 
 rally his forces ; but what could bone, beer, 
 and tobacco, effect against youth, high -blood, 
 and generous wine ? Every time the town — as 
 the ' ot ToXXot called themselves, though no 
 respectable townsmen ever joined in open and
 
 150 GREAT TOM 
 
 unseemly enmity against the university-men — 
 rushed to the attack, they mere met with rap, 
 rap! bang, bang! right and left, left and 
 right, and quickly sent back again amidst 
 their discomfited companions. 
 
 " Forward, forward ! show them no quar- 
 ter," said Babbington ; " round some of you, 
 by Exeter, the Park, and Broad Street, and 
 outflank them." 
 
 Away scudded Cecil, understanding his 
 friend's tactics in an instant, round by the 
 way pointed out, summoning the Lincoln, 
 Jesus, Exeter, and Trinity men in his way; 
 and, just as the Bargeman and his crew were 
 flying from the foe in front, and trying to 
 reach Wadham and the Parks, and so escape, 
 he fairly hemmed them in ; and then began 
 the fiercest of the fight. 
 
 " Gown, gown ! Town, town !" Blows fell 
 thick and fast amidst the inspiring cries. The 
 shrieks of the wounded were heard amidst the 
 shouts of the victors ; laughter was mingled 
 with groans ; and curses both loud and deep 
 issued from the lips of the defeated St. 
 Thomas's men.
 
 OF OXFORD. 151 
 
 " On, on, forward !" shouted Babbington ; 
 " victory — they yield, they yield !" 
 
 " Press on them, keep them in !" screamed 
 Cecil, as he cut off' the retreat of some who 
 would have scampered off down College Lane. 
 " Don't let a man escape." Whack, whack ! 
 thump, thump ! rap, rap ! and Cecil found 
 himself engaged with two or three big fellows, 
 who, if they had had any science, would have 
 overpowered him ; but he fought well, struck 
 out straight from his shoulder, while his 
 opposers threw away their roundly-delivered 
 blows on the air. " Hurrah ! Give it to 
 them ! A charge, a charge !" 
 
 The change was effective ; and Cecil found 
 not only time to breathe, but his gown, or 
 rather another man's gown that he had bor- 
 rowed, torn to shreds, and his cap-board 
 smashed to atoms. 
 
 " At them again," cried he ; " charge ! — 
 another charge, an you love me ! and we 
 
 are 
 
 " Your name and college, sir," said a 
 proctor, laying his hand upon Cecil's shoulder. 
 
 " Smith, of New-inn Hall," said Cecil, as
 
 152 GREAT TOM 
 
 he left his tattered gown in the proctor's 
 hands, ducked into the thickest of the crowd, 
 and whispered audibly, " The proctor, the 
 proctor ! — cut and run." 
 
 In an instant hostilities were suspended, 
 and what had been a thickly-mingled crowd 
 became mere flying scattered clouds of fright- 
 ened individuals. 
 
 Sauve qui peut — Anglice, the devil take 
 the hindmost — was the favourite motto with 
 both town and gown, for the proctor was a 
 foe common to both parties. Some were 
 caught, and sent home to their respective 
 colleges, under the care of a bull-dog (as the 
 proctor's man is called), if they were gowns- 
 men ; if the captured were townsmen, they 
 were handed off into durance vile for the 
 night, and " had up" in the morning. 
 
 But I must return to my hero, Babbington 
 Droneham. He was dreadfully irate at the 
 inopportune approach of the university peace- 
 keeper, for he had just reached his marked 
 foe, the terrific Bargeman ; and even amidst 
 the confusion of the melee, contrived to let 
 him know that he was anxious to try his
 
 OF OXFORD. 153 
 
 powers in a single combat, in a ring, coin- 
 posed of friends and enemies, who, English- 
 men-like, would be sure to see fair play — 
 nay, the ring was actually being formed, 
 when the cry of " proctor" reached them. 
 
 " Never mind," said Droneham, " we will 
 manage it yet. Away up High Street, and 
 down the Butcher Row. I will meet you 
 opposite the Castle-gates." 
 
 " Done," said the Bargeman ; and he wil- 
 lingly retired with his party to the spot indi- 
 cated, which was close to his own realms, 
 wherein he reigned despotically. 
 
 Even in the midst of this scene of excite- 
 ment, Babbington could not forget the cun- 
 ning taught him by Giles Darman. He 
 smoothed his ruffled feathers, and watched 
 what was going on in the immediate neigh- 
 bourhood of the proctor. His quick eye dis- 
 cerned Cecil as he escaped, or rather tried to 
 escape, from the active marshal. His foot 
 was put out just before the marshal's legs, as 
 if by chance ; and, as he fell heavily to the 
 ground, Darell dived into a body of men, and 
 was safe. 
 
 h 5
 
 1 54 GREAT TOM 
 
 A second glance showed Babbington a very 
 large operative in the act of punishing a bull- 
 dog, by battering with his huge fist his head, 
 which was held, as by a vice, under his arm. 
 " Loose your hold, fellow ! that is a proc- 
 tor's man," said Droneham. 
 
 " I'll see you at York first," said the ope- 
 rative, weaving away at the poor man's head 
 more vigorously than ever. 
 
 " Then take that — and that — and that !" 
 Each that closed an eye, or sanguinified a 
 nose; and, just as the proctor came up, the 
 operative was on his back on the pavement, 
 crying for mercy. 
 
 " Your name and college, sir ? What is 
 the meaning of this ?" said the proctor. 
 
 " Droneham of Christchurch, sir," replied 
 Babbington, capping the official most respect- 
 fully; "I was going quietly home to my 
 college, to tea, when I saw that very rude 
 individual there ill-using your follower, so I 
 rescued him, sir." 
 
 " Ay, that he did, sir, and if he hadn't 
 adone it I should never have been fit for 
 nothing lo more, for the snob had got my
 
 OF OXFORD. 155 
 
 head in chancery, and was taking his costs 
 out of it before judgment was given," said 
 the bull-dog. 
 
 " Mr. Droneham, I am very much obliged 
 to you : your conduct shall be reported to 
 the dean. The university thanks you through 
 me, its officer ; but, go home to college now, 
 or you may get hurt." 
 
 Babbiugton capped the proctor more hum- 
 bly than before, and expressed his delight at 
 having been able to assist so excellent a 
 servant of the university. The proctor re- 
 turned the capping, and went off to his duties, 
 while Babbington, the moment he was out of 
 his sight, scampered off as fast as he could to 
 meet the Bargeman opposite the Castle-gates. 
 As he turned into the High Street, he saw 
 poor Cecil, capless and gownless, and almost 
 stripped, in the hands of a pro-proctor. Ce- 
 cil saw him, and begged him to rescue him, 
 or he should be expelled. Droneham gazed 
 on him as if he knew him not ; turned up his 
 eyes as if disgusted at his depravity, and 
 walked quietly on until he was out of the 
 pro.'s sight, and then resumed his running.
 
 156 GREAT TOM 
 
 The Bargeman was true to his appoint- 
 ment. He was standing stripped, ready for 
 the fight, before the spot fixed upon, and 
 surrounded by a ring made up of gown and 
 town, who had laid aside their hostile feel- 
 ings, and were as quietly betting with one 
 another, on the result of the contest, as if 
 they had not exchanged a blow. 
 
 In an instant Babbington's gown and cap, 
 coat, waistcoat, and neckcloth were off, and 
 given to the care of a bystander. No 
 sparring took place, for both combatants 
 were in earnest. The one was bulky and un- 
 wieldy, but possessed of immense strength ; 
 the other was tall, thin, and wiry, and as 
 active as a kitten, and trained " on scientific 
 principles," as his father would have said. 
 
 The battle did not last long, for, to the 
 great surprise of his former admirers, the 
 hero of St. Thomas's could not hit his adver- 
 sary ; whereas, Droneham was planting blows 
 upon his enemy's head, which seemed to fall, 
 first on one side, then on another; now in 
 front, then behind ; as if the administrator 
 had the power of being ubiquitous.
 
 OF OXFORD. 157 
 
 When, after a blow, planted " on scientific 
 principles/' just under the left ear, the Barge- 
 man fell to the ground, and confessed that he 
 had had enough, a shout rent the air, and the 
 victor received the sincere congratulations of 
 all the spectators. 
 
 " Hurrah, hurrah ! the bully is beaten !" 
 said Babbington, as he looked round for 
 the man who held his clothes for him. 
 
 " Mr. Droneham, of Christchurch !" said 
 the proctor ; " is it possible ? " 
 
 Babbington tried to get up a lie, but he 
 could not ; he was confused. He tried to 
 speak the truth, but he could not, for he had 
 not been used to do so. He stood con- 
 founded. 
 
 " You will call on me, sir, to-morrow morn- 
 ing at ten. James, see this gentleman- 
 fighter to his rooms." 
 
 James assisted him in putting on his 
 clothes, and left him not until he had seen 
 him safely deposited within my gate, and 
 then ascertained from the porter whether the 
 name he had given to the proctor was the 
 right name or not.
 
 158 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Certainly," said Cerberus, " that is Mr. 
 Babbington Droneham, the quietest man in 
 college." 
 
 " The deuce he is!" said James. "I never 
 should have thought it. He fights like a 
 fancy -man.'" 
 
 " And what was the result?" said I to 
 Great Tom. 
 
 " Cecil Darell was expelled. Many other 
 men were rusticated, but Babbington Drone- 
 ham's story was believed — ' that he had mis- 
 taken his way to college, and turned round 
 the Butcher Row in his haste to gain his 
 rooms, because he was the quietest man in 
 college, and only fought in his own defence.' : 
 
 " And so humbug was rewarded," said I. 
 
 " No, it was not," replied Great Tom ; 
 "for, after awhile, the truth came out — 
 magna est, you know the rest. All Giles 
 Barman's lessons in cunning were thrown 
 away, and his pupil expelled the university, 
 for he .... — (but that's a secret) — and laid 
 the blame upon one of his most intimate 
 friends."
 
 OF OXFORD. 159 
 
 " What became of Giles Darman ? " I 
 inquired. 
 
 " He was prosecuted by i the quietest man 
 in college' for snaring hares on his estate 
 after he came into possession of it, upon the 
 death of poor David Droneham, and gave up 
 the ghost in prison and in disgust at his 
 pupil's ingratitude." 
 
 " And Cecil Darell ?" 
 
 " Went into the army, fought like a man 
 as he was, and cut ' the quietest man in 
 college ' for the remainder of his days."
 
 160 GREAT TOM 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ELECTION. 
 
 Nul ne sait si bien oii le Soulier blesse, que celui que le 
 porte. — Old Proverb. 
 
 " Yaw-aw-awh !" uttered I, at the comple- 
 tion of the tale that Tom toll'd last. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? Do you 
 wish to insult me? I'll call you out," said 
 Tom. 
 
 " I wish you would," said I, internally, 
 " for I see no other chance of getting out." 
 
 " I can stand fire, I can tell you : witness 
 my excessive coolness when our house was in 
 a blaze, and my old friend on the right — the 
 Hall and its neighbours- — were burnt down. 
 I was rather alarmed, I confess to you, when 
 they turned me into an alarm-bell ; but 
 though my clapper went faster than ever it
 
 OF OXFORD. 161 
 
 did before or since, and I made a deuce of a 
 clamour, I can assure you I am no coward. 
 What is your objection to my last tale?" 
 
 " Too much fighting in it," said I : " whack, 
 whack — rap, rap ; you understand me, of 
 course." 
 
 " Of course I do ; but I strike so often 
 myself, that I rather admire the propensity 
 when displayed by others. It is not unna- 
 tural surely that I, Great Tom, should have 
 an attachment to bell-a, horrida bell-a. Eh? 
 If I ever marry, I shall choose an Isabella : 
 that is not unnatural, either. Eh?" 
 
 " Not at all," said I ; " but pray don't pun, 
 especially in Latin ; I am so cold and uncom- 
 fortable, that I shall be glad of a trans- 
 lation." 
 
 " I twig," replied Tom, " but you have not 
 a chance. It is not often that I get a friend 
 to pass the night with me, and when I do I 
 must make the most of him. You are a ca- 
 pital listener — an invaluable acquisition to a 
 story-teller. Just fancy yourself Lalla Rookh, 
 and me Fadladeen, in the book written by my 
 namesake, Tom ."
 
 162 GREAT TOM 
 
 " No more of that, pray," said I ; " but if 
 you have any thing worth hearing, begin." 
 
 "Don't be in a hurry — here comes the 
 hammer — a relation of Hammer Lane, no 
 doubt, for he hits so hard ; but it's only a 
 little quarter — blow — there — ' bom !' — it's 
 all over. Make yourself as cozy as you can 
 while I my tale unfold." 
 
 On the coast of Suffolk stands a church, so 
 conspicuously placed on a hill that it is a 
 most useful landmark to sailors. By bring- 
 ing it in a line with the steeple of another 
 church, which is built upon the very verge of 
 the marshes, the navigator is enabled to avoid 
 a most dangerous bank of sand, on which 
 many a vessel with its crew has been wrecked. 
 
 The name of the parishes which boasted of 
 these churches was Darrington ; but, to dis- 
 tinguish them, the one was called Darrington 
 Major, and the other Darrington Minor, in 
 the records of the diocese. The rurals who 
 dwelt around them designated them, to save 
 time and breath, I presume, as Great Darr. 
 and Little Darr. If a stranger inquired for
 
 OF OXFORD. 1 63 
 
 Darrington Major or Minor, he was answered 
 by a stare and an " Anan, sir?" and on re- 
 peating his inquiry, was gravely told that 
 there was no such place thereabouts. Nei- 
 ther of these churches could claim what is 
 legitimately called a village. The congrega- 
 tions who attended them came from some 
 scattered farmhouses, and a few labourers' 
 cottages. The only house within a conve- 
 nient distance of either place of worship was 
 the rectory of Great Darr., and a small cot- 
 tage, which served as a lodge to the rectory, 
 in which dwelt the man — a common farm- 
 labourer — who officiated as the parish clerk. 
 The nearest house to the rectory and this 
 official's abode was situated at the distance of 
 a mile at least. 
 
 Both of these parishes were in the gift of 
 the Crown. The income arising from the 
 larger one was good — say, some five hundred 
 pounds per annum ; but the smaller one, in 
 olden times, was barely worth one hundred 
 and fifty pounds, and had no residence at- 
 tached to it. As a set-off to this, however, 
 the duties were lighter than the income ; for,
 
 164 GREAT TOM 
 
 except in the very driest days of a very dry 
 summer, the church was not approachable, 
 except by a boat. As all the parishioners of 
 Little Darr. lived nearer to Great Darr. church 
 than to their own parish church, it was an 
 understood thing between them and their 
 pastor that the church of Little Darr. should 
 be closed during nine months of the year, 
 and that they should attend the service in the 
 more convenient and approachable church of 
 Great Darr. 
 
 From custom, the rector of Great Darr. 
 was always appointed to the curacy of Little 
 Darr., because the incumbent of the latter 
 parish could not by any possibility become a 
 resident. There was no glebe whereon to 
 build, and no residence to be obtained in the 
 parish. Oddly enough, an instance had never 
 been known, even in the traditionary annals 
 of the oldest inhabitant, of the two livings 
 having been held by the same individual ; 
 and, still more oddly, the two livings had 
 never, in the memory of man, fallen vacant in 
 the official lifetime of any one Lord Chancellor. 
 
 Little Darr. was always looked upon as the
 
 OF OXFORD. 165 
 
 last object of an aspirant's hopes. If it was 
 vacant, every applicant for the Crown's fa- 
 vours, in the way of church preferment, hap- 
 pened to be from home, and did not answer 
 the letter in which he was told that the Lord 
 Chancellor had fortunately an opportunity of 
 obliging Mr. So-and-so, by offering him a 
 small living in the gift of the Crown. It was 
 the most agreeable thing possible for the gen- 
 tleman who held the seals that Little Darr. 
 should be at his disposal, or rather for his 
 private secretary, for he had fewer letters to 
 write in answer to applications for prefer- 
 ment, when this vacancy occurred, than at 
 any other period. 
 
 When Great Darr. " fell in," as it is called, 
 the applications were numerous, and every 
 prudent seal-bearer gave it away immediately 
 to the first man on his list. The house was 
 good, the situation delightful, and the duties 
 very light; it insured also, as I have said 
 before, the curacy — nearly a sinecure — of the 
 adjoining parish of Little Darr. ; it had, more- 
 over, attached to it a snug glebe — some sixty 
 acres of the best land in the parish — which
 
 166 GREAT TOM 
 
 was rented, above its value, by the principal 
 landowner, because it was the only bit of 
 really good pasture land for miles round. 
 
 Darrington Major was therefore looked 
 upon as what is termed one of the Chancellor's 
 best things. 
 
 As I have described the parish, it will now 
 be necessary for me to give a brief sketch of 
 the incumbent thereof, and a short account of 
 how he was lucky enough to obtain so desirable 
 a living. 
 
 Demetriades Finney was a Cambridge man, 
 and by unparalleled exertions succeeded in 
 getting what Cambridge men call the 
 " wooden spoon." This spoon exists not ma- 
 terially ; " shape it hath none ;" but it is meta- 
 phorically used to illustrate what members of 
 the sister university term '* a close shave." 
 The man who so narrowly escapes " a pluck " 
 as to wonder at his luck in getting his testamur, 
 and is placed in the lowest depth of the exa- 
 mination-list, is, by a figure of speech peculiar 
 to the Cantabs, said to carry off the wooden 
 spoon. This piece of luck befel Demetriades 
 Finney. He had really worked hard, and
 
 OF OXFORD. 167 
 
 hoped to be placed in a respectable part of 
 the list ; and when he saw that he was the 
 " shy man " of the year, he was so disgusted, 
 that he only stopped to take his Artium Bac- 
 calaureus degree ; and, resigning all thoughts 
 of honours in the Church, in which his pater- 
 nity wished him to " push his way," he reso- 
 lutely insisted upon being put to the desk in 
 the attorney's office in which his respectable 
 governor was the principal partner. 
 
 " Thirteen hundred and forty-four pounds 
 fifteen shillings and ninepence halfpenny have 
 I spent on your university education," said 
 old Finney, " and now you will not enter into 
 the Church." 
 
 "lama spoon — a wooden spoon," said the 
 dejected Demetriades. 
 
 " Gracious goodness !" said mamma, " to 
 think of your giving up the Church and 
 turning lawyer, — consider what caste you will 
 lose." 
 
 " I am a spoon, mother, a wooden spoon," 
 replied the son. 
 
 " Demmy, dear Demmy," cried two sisters, 
 " do be a parson ; it will help us off."
 
 168 GREAT TOM 
 
 " I am a spoon, girls ; a — a wooden spoon." 
 
 " Demmy, it's too bad of you, upon whom 
 the old one has consumed such lots of money, 
 to turn round and floor him at last, and me 
 too," said the brother, the younger brother ; 
 " for if you go into the office, of course I've 
 no chance. It is not behaving handsome." 
 
 " I am a spoon, William ; a mere wooden 
 spoon," said Demetriades. 
 
 " Spoony, you mean," said the brother, 
 turning away disgusted. " I wish I had had 
 your chance, that's all." 
 
 " You'd have been a ladle — a wooden ladle," 
 shouted Demetriades ; " you have not brains 
 enough to be a wooden spoon" 
 
 In spite of the entreaties of his father, the 
 supplications of his mother, the endearments 
 of his sisters, and the sulky remonstrances of 
 his brother, Demetriades Finney would not 
 return to Cambridge to take his M.A. degree. 
 He entered the office, and worked hard. 
 Nature, or the accident of having been born 
 an attorney's son, qualified him for the busi- 
 ness, into which he entered heart and soul. 
 He was so indefatigable in his attendance, so
 
 OF OXFORD. 169 
 
 sedate in his method of conducting a case, 
 and so beautifully heartless in his views of 
 proceeding against an unfortunate, that even 
 old Finney expressed an opinion that, if 
 Demmy had entered the Church, the world 
 would have gained a bad parson and lost a 
 good lawyer. 
 
 William Finney was so annoyed and irri- 
 tated by his brother's success, that he eloped 
 with the proceeds of a long and very interest- 
 ing Chancery suit, and, having turned the 
 cheque into coin, he took a passage in an 
 American liner, and settled in Canada. He 
 might perhaps have prospered there ; but 
 whiskey was so cheap, that, to drown his 
 vexation at his brother's success in the office, 
 he imbibed every day, and all day, and was 
 found one evening in an apoplectic fit from 
 which he could not be recovered, although 
 the nearest medical man rode twenty-seven 
 miles and a half to bleed him, as soon as he 
 heard of his attack ; of which he did hear by 
 a pedlar's cart which passed through his 
 purchase of land some three days after the fit 
 occurred. 
 
 vol. i. i
 
 1 70 GREAT TOM 
 
 The sisters of Demetriades were happily 
 married ; and, as their brother was intrusted 
 with the duty of settling their settlements, 
 they were not sorry that he had not listened 
 to their remonstrances, and gone into the 
 Church. He had done justice to his family, 
 as far as the juvenile female branches of it 
 were concerned. His mother soon forgave 
 him for the disappointment to which he had 
 subjected her — of not being able to talk of 
 " my son in the Church ;" for, by his exer- 
 tions in the law, the family finances were so 
 much improved, and her daughters so very 
 comfortably settled, that she was enabled to 
 set up a carriage and pair, and return the 
 visits of the squiresses (who had been in the 
 habit of not asking her to dinner, under the 
 plea of not wishing to put her to the expense 
 of hiring a chaise,) in a turn-out every whit 
 as well appointed as their own. 
 
 Old Finney, too, forgave his son. He was 
 tired of business ; and as he had set up in the 
 political line, and taken it into his thick head 
 that he excelled in speech-making, he found 
 the leisure, which his son's attention to pen-
 
 OF OXFORD. 171 
 
 making and bill-making afforded him, very 
 convenient. He devoted the hours that had 
 been occupied in putting the Acts of Parlia- 
 ment into force, to abusing the framers and 
 passers of those acts, unless they happened 
 to be of the same way of thinking as himself. 
 If the new enactments chanced to be the result 
 of some Radical's motion, Old Finney praised 
 them, and told his hearers, over their pipes 
 and ale at the Free and Easy meetings, that 
 "they were the very niplusultrum of what 
 Acts of Parliament ought to be, and alto- 
 gether very different from the namby-pamby 
 aristocratic acts passed by the other side of 
 the house ;" for which admirable and acute 
 observations his health was invariably pro- 
 posed and drunk with three times three, to 
 stop the long speech which was reckoned upon 
 as a rider to the act, and to promote the cir- 
 culation of the beer which was paid for by the 
 liberal member for the borough in which Old 
 Finney dwelt. 
 
 Thus did Demetriades Finney reconcile 
 every twig of his family branch by his de- 
 sertion of the Church in favour of the law. 
 
 1 2
 
 7 S GREAT TOM 
 
 But was Demetriades satisfied himself ? Xo. 
 He had been rather a gay man at Cambridge, 
 and had courted the best society ; though the 
 best society had not returned the compliment, 
 but had bestowed upon him the cognomen 
 of tuft-hunter ; and, though it condescended 
 to eat his dinners, swallow his wines, and 
 use his horses — it did all those things as if 
 it conferred a favour on the giver of the 
 feeds and the keeper of a better stud of 
 horses than is usuallv to be found in an under- 
 graduate's stables. 
 
 Demetriades, too. had rather bragged of 
 his prospects in the Church, and used, over his 
 cups, to hint at the chance of his being able 
 one day or other to have it in his power to 
 bestow preferment on his aristocratic friends. 
 He Mould throw out certain innuendoes 
 against the bench of bishops for pursuing a 
 mode of conduct towards their clergy which 
 he deemed objectionable ; and which he 
 should certainly endeavour to alter, by his 
 example, as soon as he took his station 
 amongst them. All this was listened to with 
 grave faces by his guests ; but, of course,
 
 OF OXFORD. 1 73 
 
 when the feed was over, it caused no little 
 fun among the feeders, and the donor of the 
 feed was soon dubbed " Bishop Finney that 
 is to be." Of the acquisition of this nick- 
 name, Demetriades was not in the least 
 aware, for it was only bestowed upon him 
 behind his back ; and many a laugh did he 
 join in which was raised solely at his own 
 expense, and which made his aristocratic 
 friends by so much the merrier, that he, the 
 laughed at, thought his evening party had 
 gone off more delightfully than common 
 when they laughed louder before him than 
 usual. 
 
 As this intimation of his hopes — or rather 
 certainty — of gaining the lawn sleeves and 
 uttering the nolo, was always accompanied by 
 a delicate allusion to his prospects of being 
 ranked high in the examination lists when 
 those lists came out, and, in clear type, 
 showed him to his little world in Cambridge 
 as the spoon of his year, he did not let his 
 friends see his disgust at so disagreeable a 
 circumstance ; but boldly told them that his 
 interest was so good, and his contempt for
 
 1 74 GREAT TOM 
 
 university honours so profound, that he had 
 merely gone in to be examined to fulfil a 
 necessary part of his duties to the univer- 
 sity, and would not put himself to the trouble 
 and inconvenience of reading- for what was 
 not worth gaining after all. As he accom- 
 panied this speech — or rather these speeches, 
 for the same tale was told to every man that 
 he knew — by an excellent champagne supper 
 in his lodgings, his story was a little more 
 believed than not : but when the men were 
 getting sober on the following day, the truth 
 of it was not even a matter of argument. 
 " Bishop Finney that is to be " was pro- 
 nounced a despiser of truth nem. con. : but 
 of this he knew nothing whatever. He there- 
 fore left Cambridge after giving one of the 
 most correct B. A. spreads that had ever 
 been given, under the false impression that 
 he had imposed upon his friends, and left 
 them to fancy him capable of getting the 
 senior optime, if he had chosen to try for it. 
 
 In his correspondence with his friends, after 
 he had left the University, he did not think 
 it necessary to inform them of his having re-
 
 OF OXFORD. i 75 
 
 signed the desk of a church in favour of the 
 desk in an attorney's office. He merely said 
 that he thought it a bore to be reading after 
 he had taken his degree, and finished by ask- 
 ing after the news of Cambridge, and re- 
 lating any little incident that had occurred in 
 his own neighbourhood amongst the great 
 people, whom he knew by name, or sight 
 only, but talked of as if they were his most 
 familiar friends. His letters were rarely an- 
 swered — for he had only been tolerated for 
 the sake of his breakfasts, dinners, and sup- 
 pers — and the correspondence first lan- 
 guished, and then died a very natural death. 
 It happened, once or twice, when business 
 called him to London, that he ran against — 
 I merely mean met with — some one or other 
 of his former brother collegians. He imme- 
 diately dropped the man of business ; and, 
 assuming the air of an independent gentle- 
 man, presumed to ask, and generally suc- 
 ceeded in persuading, the man whom he had so 
 fortunately encountered, to dine with him at 
 Long's, and gave such liberal orders for the 
 wines, that the client, whose business had
 
 176 GREAT TOM 
 
 called him to London, found his bill for that 
 particular journey enlarged into a beak. 
 
 To any and every question put to him 
 touching his pursuits in the country, and the 
 cause of his visit to town, Demetriades Fin- 
 ney was prepared to put in his answer. 
 " The country was dull, he allowed ; but the 
 old people liked him to be with them, and 
 they could not last for ever. As to his pur- 
 suits, he rode and drove about the country, 
 and wrote a little for his own amusement, but 
 did not publish ; and, as to town, he did run 
 up now and then, but it was more to oblige 
 others than to amuse himself." 
 
 As this speech, or others similar to it, was 
 delivered in a cool, pick-tooth sort of manner, 
 and the wine was passed rapidly, the invited 
 o-uest retired to his party or his bed, con- 
 vinced that Bishop Finney was comfortably 
 off, but horribly bored by being obliged to 
 live with the old people in some out-of-the- 
 way place or another. Oddly enough, no 
 one knew where the wooden spoon came 
 from ; for, if the question was ever put to 
 him, he cleverly shirked it by a sudden rush
 
 OF OXFORD. 177 
 
 to the window or door, under the pretext of 
 having something very important to see or 
 do. 
 
 These dinners at Long's did not produce 
 the effect upon those who partook of them 
 which the donor intended they should. He 
 was invited to a breakfast in the Albany, or 
 at some hotel; but he did not find any one 
 worth knowing who had been asked to meet 
 him, nor was he invited to the family man- 
 sion, into which his great object was to gain 
 the entree. 
 
 To compensate himself for the disappoint- 
 ments he met with in his attempts to keep up 
 a connection with those men whose society he 
 had cultivated at so great an expense at 
 college, he devoted himself entirely to his 
 profession, and resolved to acquire wealth 
 enough in a short period to enable him to 
 leave his native town, dispose of the good- 
 will of the business, and set up in London 
 in the capacity of a private gentleman. 
 
 For some ten years, Demetriades Finney 
 went on prosperously, and, as every one but 
 himself fancied, contentedly. His practice 
 
 l 5
 
 I 78 GREAT TOM 
 
 was much increased and very profitable ; but 
 still he could not command the sort of society 
 into which he wished to be admitted. He 
 dined with lords and esquires, but he did not 
 experience at their tables the same sort of 
 feeling as he did when he sat down with his 
 University friends, who were of a much 
 higher grade than his present entertainers. 
 He was not looked upon as " one of us," 
 although every attention was paid to him 
 which his talents as a lawyer, and his respec- 
 tability, both personal and professional, de- 
 manded. 
 
 Finney liked these parties on one account 
 only ; he was not likely to meet at any of 
 them his old college set. There was, there- 
 fore, no fear of his situation in life, which he 
 foolishly thought degrading, being made 
 known to those for whom he still entertained 
 the greatest respect, and with whom he would 
 gladly have given all his professional profits 
 to be enabled to associate on the same foot- 
 ing as he had done at Cambridge. 
 
 All this may seem strange, and not under- 
 standable, to those who have not been at one
 
 OF OXFORD. 179 
 
 of our two Universities, or at Trinity College, 
 Dublin ; but, in my long experience from 
 this commanding situation, I never knew an 
 instance of a college man, whom circum- 
 stances forced to enter into a path of life 
 different to that which he had meant to pur- 
 sue, and which separated him from those with 
 whom he had been educated, that did not 
 deem the loss of their society the severest 
 drawback on his success, in whatever pursuit 
 he was compelled to engage in. There is a 
 sort of freemasonry in the signs, words, and 
 grips of all who have been educated at pub- 
 lic schools and in the Universities, into the 
 secrets of which those who have not been 
 initiated into the mysteries of public-school- 
 ism and college-life can never penetrate. If 
 I, Great Tom, were in the deserts of Arabia, 
 or in the back settlements of America, or in 
 any other equally undesirable locality, I know 
 that if I met with a Christchurch man, he 
 would be delighted to see me — even if he had 
 passed his undergraduate days in Tom's 
 staircase. 
 
 " Hilloah ! old fellow," said I, " this is a
 
 180 GREAT TOM 
 
 digression." He replied, I am aware of it; 
 but lie still, and I will proceed. I am apt to 
 be warm on University matters, and cannot 
 help giving vent to my feelings when they are 
 excited. 
 
 Well, it so happened that old Finney, be- 
 fore his death, by his assiduous attendances 
 at Free and Easy meetings, and by his liberal 
 distribution of malt liquor and spirituous 
 compounds, had impressed the little voters — 
 I do not mean the little men, bodily speaking, 
 but those who had " a most sweet voice " 
 from having a very little bit of property in the 
 borough — with a notion that the admission of 
 
 what he called an unliberal member into 
 
 would insure their and its ruin. Under this 
 impression he left them when he died ; which 
 he did of apoplexy, solely resulting from per- 
 severing in drinking the strong beer of a 
 brewer whose vote he wished to secure. 
 
 It also happened that at this period a dis- 
 solution of parliament was expected. The 
 
 gentleman who had represented on the 
 
 radical interest had sent a letter to old Fin- 
 ney, conveying his wish to retire from public
 
 OF OXFORD. 181 
 
 life, and introduce his eldest son, whom he 
 pronounced a fitting person, from similarity 
 of sentiments and liberality of ideas, to suc- 
 ceed himself. Old Finney read the letter to 
 the members of the Free and Easy, went 
 home, and was found a corpse on the follow- 
 ing morning. 
 
 My " hero," Demetriades Finney, had 
 hitherto never been engaged in politics in 
 any way. He had not prohibited his father 
 from doing his best to forward the views of 
 his party, because he thought that it amused 
 the old gentleman and did no harm to the 
 firm, though it caused him to be looked shily 
 
 upon by the opposite party around . 
 
 This shiness was not extended to the son ; 
 because, as I have said, he had not taken 
 any decided part in the electioneering pro- 
 ceedings of the borough. His mind and 
 body were both too much engaged in the 
 attempt to fulfil his wish of realizing enough 
 to justify him in retiring from business, to 
 allow him to waste a thought or a moment 
 upon anything that did not tend to the imme- 
 diate furtherance of that object.
 
 182 GREAT TOM 
 
 When the vacancy had actually occurred, 
 it struck Demetriades that he might add 
 largely to his store by getting up an opposi- 
 tion to the expectant successor of the former 
 candidate on the radical interest. With his 
 usual business-like caution, before he ventured 
 to hint at such a thing as turning the tables 
 on the party by whom the firm had been 
 hitherto engaged, he carefully examined his 
 deceased parent's papers. He locked himself 
 into his private office, and, after secluding 
 himself for some five hours, was heard by the 
 senior clerk to say, as he emerged from his 
 den-— " All right — I have them in my power 
 —there is not one of them that does not stand 
 indebted to the firm." 
 
 A consultation with his partner, who had 
 been elected from a senior clerkship to an 
 eighth share in the business, followed ; and it 
 was soon settled that the most paying part to 
 take in the approaching struggle would be to 
 throw over the old party and carry the new 
 candidate triumphantly. 
 
 But who was to be the new candidate? 
 that was the question. It was a difficult
 
 OF OXFORD. 183 
 
 question too ; for the agents in prospectu did 
 not mean to support a man who had not the 
 means of supporting them with a liberal 
 supply of cash to defeat the radical and fill 
 their own pockets. Several names were pro- 
 posed and rejected ; and the more they 
 thought of all the likely men, within a circle 
 of fifty miles, the less they seemed to be able 
 to hit on one likely to suit their views, as the 
 " perfection of a candidate " for a seat in the 
 House. 
 
 They were puzzled and bewildered ; but, 
 luckily, their bewilderment was terminated 
 by the senior clerk, who, after giving a mes- 
 meric rap, popped his head inside the private 
 office-door, and, in a whisper, asked if either 
 of the firm was at home to a gentleman, who 
 evidently was such, though he declined to give 
 his name or state his business. 
 
 Finney was not certain whether he was at 
 home or not. His partner rather thought he 
 was not at home. To settle whether either of 
 them was at home, the partner peeped through 
 a little glass window into the outer office
 
 184 GREAT TOM 
 
 where the gentleman who wished to know if 
 they were at home was standing. 
 
 " Yes, I rather think we are at home," 
 said he, after a careful survey ; and, when the 
 clerk had retired to convey the pleasing intel- 
 ligence, he added, in answer to the inquiring 
 looks of the senior partner, " A new candidate, 
 I'll bet a new hat or a silk umbrella — blue coat, 
 buff waistcoat, white ducks, and a white tie — 
 a Tory, I'll bet a white felt for summer 
 wear." 
 
 The gentleman was introduced. He took 
 off his hat, laid down his riding-stick, and 
 pulled off a pair of yellow Woodstocks, before 
 he took the seat which was placed for him by 
 the junior partner. All the while these ope- 
 rations were going on, Demetriades surveyed 
 the stranger. He was certain that the face 
 and figure had at one time been familiar to 
 him ; but both were considerably enlarged. 
 It was, if it was an old friend, like an octavo 
 reprinted and brought out in quarto. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I am here to — " 
 
 " That voice ! Fitznoodleby — I am sure it
 
 OF OXFORD. 185 
 
 is," said Demetriades. " Johnson, oblige me 
 by retiring : this is an old friend of mine." 
 
 The partner of one-eighth of course gave 
 way to him who retained the seven-eights. 
 
 " Fitznoodleby, don't you remember Finney 
 at King's ?" 
 
 " What, the Bishop ? it cannot be," said 
 the stranger. Finney looked astonished at 
 first, but, after a moment's thought, said — 
 " Oh ! I see your error. I was meant for the 
 Church, but the governor wished me to supply 
 his place in the office, and so — I — I — did not 
 think it worth while to disappoint him, and 
 let a lucrative business go to the dogs." 
 
 " I am delighted to meet an old college 
 friend," said the Honourable Mr. Fitznoodleby ; 
 " especially as I think we are likely to be of 
 mutual service to each other." 
 
 " You are a candidate for the borough, 
 then ?" 
 
 " I am come down on purpose. I am con- 
 nected with the present administration, and — 
 I may as well speak out — came here to sound 
 the rival candidate's agent before I ventured 
 into the field ; but little expected to find in
 
 186 GREAT TOM 
 
 him a brother collegian, and a man with whom 
 I once lived on such very intimate terms." 
 
 Finney recollected that this intimate friend 
 had wined with him twice, and never returned 
 the invitation ; but he smiled as he replied, 
 that he was not the agent of the opposing 
 party — that he was quite at liberty to act for 
 any one — and that, of course, he should feel 
 more pleasure in forwarding the views and 
 wishes of an intimate college friend, than those 
 of one for whom he felt no ties of early 
 friendship. 
 
 I need not dwell on what passed during a 
 two hours' talk between the college friends, 
 as this is not the election with which my tale 
 is principally concerned. Suffice it to say, 
 
 that after a week's sojourn in , Fitz- 
 
 noodleby was informed in a polite note that 
 his opponent, finding, by some miraculous 
 means for which he could not account, that he 
 had lost a majority of the liberal voters, did 
 not mean to go to the poll. 
 
 Soon after Fitznoodleby's election and de- 
 parture from the borough which he was to 
 represent in parliament, Demetrius Finney was
 
 OF OXFORD. 187 
 
 missing from his desk and offices. The junior 
 partner carried on the business, and to all in- 
 quiries for his missing senior, his only reply 
 was, " He'll turn up some day, I'll bet a new 
 hat or a silk umbrella." 
 
 " You'll be ill, sir, I know you will, if you 
 read so hard and drink nothing but green tea, 
 and sit up so late o' nights with nothing for a 
 night-cap but a damp towel — and you that 
 took your Bachelor's before you came up," 
 said Tom Cooke, one of our oldest scouts, to 
 a gentleman rather far advanced in life not to 
 be an A.M. 
 
 " Never mind, Tom, wet the gunpowder and 
 put in a strong charge ; then leave me to 
 read, for I have much to do in a very short 
 time. I am to be ordained on Trinity Sun- 
 day." 
 
 These words were spoken by our old ac- 
 quaintance Demetriades, who had been re- 
 moved by a liceat from King's, Cambridge, ad 
 eundem gradum, at this house — a difficult thing 
 to effect; but easy in his peculiar case —
 
 188 GREAT TOM 
 
 backed by the influence of the Honourable 
 Mr. Fitznoodleby with an obliging Dean. 
 
 Finney read very hard, but did not allow 
 his reading to prevent his giving very excellent 
 dinners and wine-parties to the best men in 
 Ch. Ch., to whom the letters given him by his 
 obliged friend the member for intro- 
 duced him. 
 
 Three weeks sufficed to keep what is called 
 his master's term ; and, as he had not removed 
 his name from the books of his Cambridge 
 College, until he removed it to our books, 
 he was admitted to his master's degree as soon 
 as his residential term was kept. He did not 
 " go down," however, but remained in his 
 lodgings, nearly opposite my gateway, under 
 the scoutship of Tom Cooke, until Trinity 
 Sunday arrived, when he was ordained by 
 letters demissory on the curacy of Little Darr. 
 In a few weeks afterwards he returned to the 
 
 borough of , made certain arrangements 
 
 with his former partner, and went down to his 
 curacy. The Vicar of Great Darr. imme- 
 diately gave up his house to him ; and, after 
 he had obtained priest's orders, the living.
 
 OF OXFORD. 189 
 
 The patron had taken care that the former 
 incumbent should lose nothing by obliging 
 him, and, through him, the Honourable Mr. 
 Fitznoodleby. 
 
 Another fleeting year saw Demetriades 
 Finney a pluralist. For the first time in the 
 memory of the oldest inhabitant, Great Darr. 
 and Little Darr. were in the possession of the 
 same individual, and both given away by one 
 Lord Chancellor. 
 
 A few more fleeting years saw Finney a 
 
 Doctor of Divinity, and saw him riding about 
 
 his two parishes in a shovel hat, and Arch- 
 
 deaconal-cut coat, elastic knees, and long un- 
 
 topped riding-boots. They also saw him 
 
 entertaining a large assemblage of aristocratic 
 
 friends, and among them, when the House 
 
 was not sitting, the Hon. Mr. Fitznoodleby, 
 
 who began to think that it " was upon the 
 
 cards " that the man, at whom he used to 
 
 laugh at Cambridge for even hinting at the 
 
 possibility of such an event, might be Bishop 
 
 Finney, after all. 
 
 To effect this object Demetriades left no- 
 thing untried. He made himself honorary
 
 190 GREAT TOM 
 
 secretary to every society that was then in 
 existence, connected, in the remotest way, 
 with the Church ; was liberal in his donations 
 to schools and new churches, and took care 
 that his name should appear in the papers, 
 when he did subscribe, not as " D.D.," or 
 " A Friend to the Church," j£l00— but as 
 " Doctor Demetriades Finney, Rector of 
 Darrington Major and Vicar of Darrington 
 Minor, .£100." He also knew no distinction 
 of persons or parties in his invitations to the 
 dinners at Great Darr. — the excellency of 
 which was proverbial ; but carefully selected 
 such men for his guests, and such only, as 
 were likely to be of benefit to him hereafter. 
 He also made a point of spending three 
 months in London, in the season, and culti- 
 vating those friends to whom he was intro- 
 duced by his friend Mr. Fitznoodleby, and by 
 his other friends, whose interest he had 
 insured by his very capital dinners and his 
 obliging manners ; for he was always ready to 
 preach charity sermons, propose resolutions 
 on the platforms at public meetings, or do 
 anything else to promote the interests of —
 
 OF OXFORD. 191 
 
 himself, and to keep his name before the 
 public. He published a volume of sermons, 
 and, as he paid all the expenses of printing 
 and advertising-, and gave them away, they 
 went off with astonishing rapidity. He even 
 advertised a second edition, and then a third, 
 but took care not to have any more than the 
 first impression " pulled off." 
 
 It so chanced, about five years after his 
 appointment to the livings of Great and Little 
 Dar., that Demetriades Finney found himself 
 in a very awkward fix, as our friends over the 
 Atlantic call it. A question of vital impor- 
 tance, as it affected the Church, had been 
 brought into Parliament, and the part taken 
 by one of the members for the University was 
 so much disapproved of by the majority of 
 the members of Convocation, that they pro- 
 posed and carried the very unusual motion 
 that he should be called upon to resign his 
 seat. He did so at once ; and, after stating 
 his reasons for the part he had taken, appealed 
 to his constituents, announced himself as a 
 candidate to represent the University, and 
 solicited a renewal of their support. A rival
 
 192 GREAT TOM 
 
 candidate appeared in the field, and a severe 
 contest was expected. 
 
 Before Dr. Finney could make up his epis- 
 eopally-inclined mind how to act, he received 
 two notes, one from each of his most influential 
 friends, which caused him much uneasiness. 
 The first which he opened he knew by the 
 handwriting was from the Honourable Mr. 
 Fitznoodleby. Its contents were these : — 
 
 " Downing Street, April 2nd. 
 " Dear Finney, 
 
 " My friend Sir Ernest Meanwell 
 starts again for Oxford University. I know 
 you will oblige me by giving him your vote 
 and all the interest which so popular a man 
 as yourself can secure. We — you will under- 
 stand me — shall not be unmindful of those 
 friends who assist us at this most important 
 crisis. 
 
 " Your faithful friend, 
 
 " Arthur Fitznoodleby." 
 
 " I must vote for Meanwell," said Finnev, 
 as he laid down the note ; " gratitude de- 
 mands it of me."
 
 OF OXFORD. 193 
 
 The other letter ran thus : — 
 
 " My dear Doctor Finney, 
 
 " I am obliged to you for a copy 
 of your very excellent, I may say superior, 
 sermons. We have read them with great 
 pleasure, and, I hope I may add, advantage. 
 I am happy to see that you have arrived at a 
 third edition — a sure testimony to their 
 merits ; by the by, have you heard that Mr. 
 Swillsby Slowe means to oppose Sir Ernest 
 Meanwell at Oxford? Your name is still on 
 the books of Christchurch, 1 believe ; and if 
 you will support Slowe, who is a sound man, 
 you will oblige me. There are strange 
 rumours afloat, and it is believed that we — 
 you will see my meaning — are not unlikely 
 to replace the present administration. I need 
 scarcely say that we shall not be slow in 
 seconding those who support our friend Slowe. 
 — Excuse the bad pun, and believe me, 
 " My dear Doctor Finney, 
 " Your sincere friend and admirer, 
 
 " PURPLETON. 
 
 " PS. If you can spare me one copy more 
 of your excellent sermons, do oblige me by 
 
 vol. 1. K
 
 194 GREAT TOM 
 
 sending it to the . He is with us, I 
 
 assure you." 
 
 « Very polite and considerate of Lord 
 Purpleton, I think — but it is very unpleasant 
 to vote against Fitznoodleby. I really think 
 that Slowe has strong claims — very strong 
 claims. I will go up to Oxford, at all events, 
 and see how my college stands affected, and 
 inquire into the truth of Lord Purpleton's 
 postscript." 
 
 As soon as Doctor Demetriades Finney had 
 finished reading those letters and eating his 
 breakfast, he ordered post-horses, and set off 
 for Oxford. 
 
 His first care was to call upon the Dean, the 
 Subdean, and Tutors. The approaching election 
 was the only thing talked of, after the usual 
 exchange of compliments, and observations on 
 the state of the barometer and thermometer. 
 
 Dr. Finney was cautious, and made a capi- 
 tal listener, as he offered no remarks, but 
 merely asked questions and nodded or sho ok 
 his head by way of reply. He found opi- 
 nions so much divided, even in our house of
 
 OF OXFORD. 195 
 
 Ch. Ch. — an unusual circumstance, as my 
 men generally, as a coachman would say, 
 work well together. Upon this momentous 
 occasion, however, they each pulled different 
 ways ; some bolted, and others seemed in- 
 clined to kick over the traces. The Dean 
 double-thonged them; the Censor tried to 
 curb them up tighter; but they would not 
 answer to the whip, and reared and plunged 
 frightfully. 
 
 Dr. Finney was as much in the dark as to 
 the course which it was most for his interest 
 to pursue, after listening to the sentiments of 
 the Dean, as he was before his arrival in Ox- 
 ford. The Dean and two of the Tutors were 
 evidently in favour of Sir Ernest Meanwcll; 
 he had been a good representative ; and, al- 
 though they allowed that he had made a great 
 mistake in yielding to the popular cry on a 
 subject of such vital importance, they quoted 
 the humanum est err are in his favour, and re- 
 solved to support him, because he belonged to 
 the administration that was in. On the other 
 hand, the Junior Tutors were all for Mr. 
 Slowe ; for he was wealthy, carried weight 
 
 k 2
 
 196 GREAT TOM 
 
 with him in the House — he weighed eighteen 
 stone and a half — talked much and well upon 
 his hobbyhorse subjects, the Church, and edu- 
 cation on church principles, and was, more- 
 over, sure of holding office in the administra- 
 tion. He was out, but almost sure of shortly 
 coining in. As to Lord Purpleton's post- 
 script — each party claimed the as its 
 
 stanch supporter; so that the poor doctor, 
 not knowing how to act, resolved to ask the 
 opinion of Tom Cooke, his scout, who, he was 
 fully aware, was well informed on all Uni- 
 versity matters. 
 
 Tom, as he put out the dress-suit just be- 
 fore dinner, in reply to Finney's inquiry on 
 which side the majority was likely to vote, 
 shook his head, and confessed that he should 
 be sorry to back either party, even though 
 the general opinion was the odds were in 
 favour of the new horse. When Tom had 
 given this, which was the only opinion he had 
 to give, he, in his turn, endeavoured to obtain 
 a little information, and find out how the 
 doctor meant to vote. He might as well have 
 tried to find out which way the wind v aid
 
 OF OXFORD. 1.97 
 
 blow that day week, for the doctor merely 
 coughed, nodded, or shook his head. 
 
 " Meanwell is, I believe, sir, a great friend 
 of your friend Fitznoodleby ?" said Tom. 
 
 The doctor nodded. 
 
 ' And Slowe is a great friend of your friend 
 Lord Purpleton?" 
 
 Another nod. 
 
 " Ah ! I see how it is — don't promise either 
 party, eh ? perhaps not vote at all ? If so — 
 take my advice, and leave the ' 'varsity ' as 
 soon as possible, or your morality will be se- 
 dooced." 
 
 The doctor was half inclined to take this 
 advice, and not risk the seduction of his mo- 
 rality ; but he knew that if he did not vote, 
 he should offend both parties, and — he was 
 invited to dine with the Dean. 
 
 The dinner was remarkably ffood for an 
 Oxford Don's dinner, and those only were 
 asked to partake of it who were stanch Mean- 
 wellites. Dr. Finney, by implication — for he 
 had given no sign — was supposed to be so 
 favourably disposed to their views, that, after 
 his coffee, as he took his leave, the Dean said,
 
 198 GREAT TOM 
 
 " We may reckon upon your vote, of course ?" 
 The doctor was so confounded, that he nodded 
 his head and rushed out of the room. The 
 Dean of course booked him. 
 
 On the following day, the doctor, after 
 calling upon every man whom he knew in the 
 University, to find out the true state of the 
 opposing parties, dined with one of the Junior 
 Tutors, who was the leader of the Sloweites. 
 So much did he seem to favour the views of 
 the new candidate — by implication; for he 
 was as guarded as ever — that he was booked 
 for a sure vote for Slowe, because he had 
 nodded his head when some one said he 
 thought him safe to carry the election. 
 
 The day of the election arrived, and with it 
 some of the strangest-dressed individuals from 
 remote regions that had ever been seen in 
 Oxford. It was great sport for the young 
 men to see the extraordinarily cut coats, 
 oddly shaped hats, and old-fashioned boots 
 that were uncoached at the various inns by 
 the public conveyances that came from the 
 north and the principality. " What a set of 
 guys, gigs, or quizzes !" were the remarks,
 
 OF OXFORD. 199 
 
 accordingly as the remarkers were Etonians, 
 Westminsters, or Carthusians. 
 
 It was a curious but a painful sight to wit- 
 ness men, bowed down by the weight of years 
 and the infirmities of age, meet in the streets 
 or in the convocation house, and, after gazing 
 at each other intently with their eyes shaded 
 by their hands, exclaim — " Why, it must be 
 — Brown, don't you recollect Thompson?" 
 or, " Thompson, you cannot have forgotten 
 Brown?" and then to see them grasp each 
 other's hands, and hold them as if they would 
 never part again if they could help it ; and 
 then, after a lengthened inquiry as to their 
 state in life, their fortunes and their families, 
 each would reluctantly drop his old friend's 
 hand, and, turning to a bystander, observe, 
 " Poor Brown ! how very old he looks ! can- 
 not last long ;" or, " Poor old Thompson ! to 
 think what a fine young man I remember 
 him; and to think that, with his talents, he 
 is merely a curate now !" 
 
 It was a curious but a painful sight, and 
 many a tear was shed in the convocation house 
 that day which fell unobserved down the
 
 200 GREAT TOM 
 
 withered cheeks, or was silently wiped away 
 by the hands of those who had met then after 
 a separation of many years, and who were 
 never likely to meet again. Some had pro- 
 spered and were wealthy ; others had drunk 
 deep of the cup of affliction, and were poor in 
 worldly goods, but still rich in the warm affec- 
 tions of the heart. The joy of meeting le- 
 velled all distinctions ; and the man who had 
 travelled to Oxford in his own snug carriage 
 warmly greeted his poorer brother, who had 
 been indebted to some charitable parishioner 
 for the means of reaching the University, on 
 the outside of a public conveyance. 
 
 It was truly a curious and most painful 
 sight. Dr. Finney's entrance caused no little 
 stir ; his bulky person and flowing robes over 
 his very archdeaconal-cut clothes, gave rise 
 to the question, " Who is he ?" The answer, 
 " The celebrated Dr. Demetriades Finney, of 
 Darrington Major and Minor," would at any 
 other time have given him great pleasure. At 
 that moment, however, he was too much en- 
 gaged with his painful position to dwell upon 
 the celebrity which his name had obtained.
 
 OF OXFORD. 201 
 
 He had not made up his mind yet for whom 
 he should vote : but, as he approached the 
 table in his turn, and got a sight of the mode 
 in which each person voted — by writing his 
 name on a long sheet of paper, which was 
 covered with another sheet, so that he could 
 not see how his immediate predecessor voted 
 — it gave him courage ; and as he heard a 
 whisper just before he was admitted within 
 the bar that Mr. Swillsby Slowe was eighteen 
 a-head of Sir Ernest Meanwell, he took up the 
 pen and boldly voted for Lord Purpleton's 
 friend, fully confident that his treachery to 
 his friend Fitznoodleby would never be dis- 
 covered. 
 
 He dined with the Dean that day; and, 
 just as they had sat down to table, word was 
 brought in that the votes had been cast up, 
 and the Vice-Chancellor had announced Mr. 
 Swillsby Slowe the successful candidate by a 
 majority of sixty-one. 
 
 The faces of the Meanwellites were imme- 
 diately elongated. They were afraid that 
 they should be beaten, but never dreamed of 
 being so shamefully beaten. 
 
 K 5
 
 202 GREAT TOM 
 
 " It is very odd," said the Dean, pausing 
 after he had helped the salmon, and pulling 
 out a red pocket-book. " I thought I had 
 calculated too nicely to be so much deceived : 
 here is my list — let me see — you voted, — and 
 you, — and you, — and you, Dr. Finney, you 
 voted for our friend Mean well, of course ?" 
 
 All the others said yes plainly. The Doctor 
 seized on a port-wine decanter, poured out a 
 large glass, and held it up between the light 
 and his face, that the blush which overspread 
 his cheeks, as he nodded affirmatively, might 
 be mistaken for the purple glow of the 
 wine. 
 
 " Some one has deceived me, certainly — I 
 am sure I reckoned very accurately, and I 
 know how all our men polled but one. I shall 
 find him out and expose him. Dr. Finney, a 
 glass of wine," said the Dean. 
 
 The looks of every one in the party were 
 turned upon the Doctor. He felt very red 
 in the face, and very hot and uncomfortable. 
 A smile, a very meaning smile, went round ; 
 and, instead of accepting the Dean's challenge, 
 the Doctor pretended that he had a fish-bone
 
 OF OXFORD. 203 
 
 stuck across his epiglottis, and, putting his 
 handkerchief to his mouth, coughed violently, 
 and left the room. 
 
 He even went through the farce of sending 
 for a surgeon to examine his throat ; and, 
 whilst the surgeon was endeavouring to find 
 what was not there, a note was brought in by 
 Tom Cooke from the Dean, which briefly 
 stated that " it was now known who it was 
 that had pretended to favour Sir Ernest Mean- 
 well's cause, and had voted for his opponent, 
 and that the sooner the person who had been 
 guilty of such an act explained his conduct or 
 retired into the country, the more agreeable 
 it would be to every one of his brother col- 
 legians." 
 
 Dr. Finney took the hint and a postchaise 
 and pair. He returned to Great Darr., and 
 waited with no little anxiety the result of his 
 discovered duplicity. Two letters arrived : 
 one from the Honourable Arthur Fitznoodleby, 
 simply telling him that he had acted in such 
 a manner that all further acquaintance must 
 be at an end between them ; the other 
 from Lord Purpleton, thanking him for
 
 204 GREAT TOM 
 
 voting for his friend Mr. Swillsby Slowe, but 
 regretting that in doing so he should have 
 broken a sacred promise given to another 
 party. 
 
 Doctor Finney explained ; but no further 
 notice was taken of him. He was cut by 
 all his aristocratic friends ; and, although he 
 went up to London in the season, as usual, he 
 was not called upon to spout on a platform 
 or to preach charity sermons. 
 
 This treatment had such an effect upon his 
 temper that when he returned to Great Darr. 
 he offended the singers, quarrelled with the 
 ringers, and had an action brought against 
 him by the parish clerk. His farmers refused 
 to take his tithes ; and, when he proceeded 
 to take them up himself, they sent him notices 
 of actions for trespass if he went upon their 
 lands. He did so ; and, as his former profes- 
 sion led him to delight in actions-at-law, he 
 had so much amusement in that way, that, to 
 use a common phrase, he made the place too 
 hot to hold him. 
 
 His diocesan, when appealed to, advised 
 him to absent himself for a year or two. He
 
 OF OXFORD. 205 
 
 adopted the advice, and was rung- out of his 
 parish by the men, and hooted and screeched 
 out by the boys and women — merely because 
 he had been to vote at an Oxford election.
 
 206 GREAT TOM 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE NICE YOUNG MAN. 
 
 Landlord, fill the flowing bowl till it runs over. 
 
 Musce Postpuerenses. 
 
 " You are certainly an excellent listener, 
 Mr. Cuique," said Great Tom, wagging his 
 clapper approvingly. 
 
 " I am when I am obliged," I commenced. 
 
 " Obliged ? of course, you are obliged to 
 me for telling you such a series of entertain- 
 ing anecdotes. Should you like another ? a 
 Pursey anecdote, for instance ?" 
 
 " Very much indeed, Mr. Thomas," I re- 
 plied ; for what other answer could I make 
 to my belligerent incubus ? 
 
 " Now don't insult me," said Tom. " Just 
 fancy how Newton, Pope, Homer, or Alci- 
 biades, would have felt to hear themselves
 
 OF OXFORD. 207 
 
 called Mister Alcibiades, Mister Homer, and 
 so on. Don't mister me — you cannot master 
 me, as you know — but call me plain, un- 
 adulterated Tom, or Great Tom, if you please. 
 If you are only anxious to be scrupulously 
 correct, you ought to designate me, consider- 
 ing my Italian origin, as Signor Thomaso — 
 but don't do any thing of the kind. I do 
 not like to have my feelings wrung by being 
 reminded of the days of my sweet child- 
 hood — 
 
 In infancy my hopes and fears, 
 
 and all that sort of thing. Don't. Promise 
 me, on the honour of a gent. — I mean a ser- 
 vitor-gentleman — that you won't." 
 
 I laid my dexter hand upon the sinister 
 side of my waistcoat, and gave the required 
 promise. 
 
 " Talking of designations or titles, or, in 
 plain English, names — yours is a puzzle. 
 Cuique ! well, it is a queer name — who gave 
 you that name ?" 
 
 I was about to answer from the Catechism 
 a question so catechismally put, and say,
 
 208 GREAT TOM 
 
 " ray godfathers and my godmothers," when 
 I luckily recollected that it was my surname, 
 and not my Christian appellative. 
 
 " It is an old family name," said I, " and 
 was most probably of Roman origin. My 
 father " 
 
 "That will do," said Tom; "drop the 
 pedigree. Do you know that, on the first 
 night of your arrival in my tower, the porter, 
 who had just read your name on your trunk, 
 when he came up to take a toll out of me, 
 was spelling it, and trying to make some- 
 thing of it. First, ' it must be Queek ;' next 
 1 he thought Kike or Kick,' and finally 
 ' Qu-ick.' I spelt it for him thus, Ky-quee, 
 and now he has got it correctly, which must 
 rather have astonished you." 
 
 " It did a little," said I ; " but I am used 
 to be called by names that never belonged to 
 me. After all, to use an old used-up quo- 
 tation, 'What's in a name?' " 
 
 " A great deal sometimes ; one of our 
 men, for instance — par exemple, as the French 
 say, or exempli gratia^ as the Latins have 
 it — came unexpectedly into a hundred
 
 OF OXFORD. 209 
 
 thousand pounds merely because his name 
 was Clarke — Clark with an e at the end 
 of it." 
 
 " I have got an e to the end of my name," 
 said I, sighing ; " but no one of the family 
 has ever made a note of it." 
 
 " A pound note, eh ? — Never mind the 
 pun — it's a shocking bad one — but just drop 
 all thoughts of being a fortunate youth your- 
 self for the present, and listen to my little 
 tale of one that was — to a certain extent." 
 
 " If you please, sir, here is a gentleman," 
 said a quiet, soft-speaking servant to one of 
 our Deans, as he sat writing in his study, 
 " who wishes to speak to you." 
 
 " I am not at home, James, to anybody. 
 It is past four o'clock." 
 
 " But he says, sir " 
 
 " I'm gone into the library." 
 
 " That he will not detain you " 
 
 " I'm in the chapter-house or the cathe- 
 dral." 
 
 " More than five "
 
 210 GREAT TOM 
 
 " I'm out for an airing." 
 
 " Minutes ; his time is very valuable." 
 
 " And so is mine, James ; it is past college 
 calling-hours, and so I'm gone for a walk into 
 the meadow," said the Dean, in a decided 
 tone. 
 
 " If you please, sir," said James, bowing 
 respectfully, for the college-butler was in ex- 
 tremis, and he hoped to succeed to his post 
 through the interest of his master — " if you 
 please, sir, the gentleman is a gentleman " (he 
 had given James a half-crown to induce him 
 to urge the Dean to see him), " and has come 
 up a long way to enter a young man as a 
 gentleman-commoner." 
 
 " He cannot be a gentleman, in the rigid 
 sense of that ill-used word, or he would have 
 sent in his card, even if he had called at so 
 unbusiness-like an hour." 
 
 " If you please, sir, he has sent in his card. 
 Here it is," said James, showing four inches 
 by two of very plain pasteboard. 
 
 " Then why did you not give it me be- 
 fore?" said the Dean, very harshly, as he 
 snatched it out of his servant's hand.
 
 OF OXFORD. 2 1 1 
 
 James did not reply, but made a most 
 profoundly-respectful bow. 
 
 " Why, what is this?" said the Dean, start- 
 £ as he looked at the card, and read 
 
 in 
 
 aloud — 
 
 Messrs. Pype, Hooker, and Co. 
 
 Dealers in Foreign Cigars and Tobaccos, 
 
 Minories. 
 
 N.B. — Left-off wearing apparel, books, pictures, and plate, 
 
 taken in exchange on liberal terms. 
 
 " I really beg pardon, sir," said James, 
 turning as pale as if he had been smoking a 
 minerigo, made up from cabbage-leaves and 
 rhubarb stems by Messrs. Pype, Hooker, and 
 Co. " Beg pardon, sir, but that belongs to 
 the other gentleman, as called just at the 
 same time." 
 
 " A dealer in filthy tobacco call on the 
 Dean of Christ's Church ! — order the porter 
 to turn him out, on pain of being turned out 
 himself if he does not." 
 
 " If you please, sir, he called upon we," 
 said James ; but, finding from his master's 
 black looks that he had made a mistake, he
 
 c 2 12 GREAT TOM 
 
 adroitly added, " to leave a parcel which a 
 friend of mine sent down by him to save 
 carriage." 
 
 " Oh ! very well, James," said the Dean, 
 brightening up ; " here, take back this card, 
 and give me the other." 
 
 James did so ; and, when his master had 
 read the name, and bidden him usher in 
 Mr. Gabberton Swift, he did so, and then re- 
 tired to his pantry, to conclude a deal with 
 the gentleman who represented Messrs. Pype 
 and Hooker. The result of the bargain was, 
 that James locked up a two-pound box of 
 unmistakeable British Cabanas, and the cigar- 
 merchant carried off two suits of clerically- 
 cut black clothes, a pair of bishop's boots, and 
 a shovel hat. How exasperated would the 
 dignitary have been, to whom those articles 
 had lately belonged, had he known that all 
 the dignity which he had derived from his 
 dress had ended in smoke ! 
 
 He knew nothing of it, however; so he 
 received Mr. Gabberton Swift most gra- 
 ciously, although he was a very small man,
 
 OF OXFORD. 213 
 
 and not particularly well calculated, from the 
 style of his dress and personal appearance, to 
 command respect. 
 
 Mr. Gabberton Swift was, as I have said, 
 a very small man, but a very great talker. 
 His tongue was so well trained, that if he 
 could have entered it for the Derby, he 
 would have won the cup and distanced the 
 whole field — it ran so very fast when it was 
 once started. 
 
 " I am happy to see you, sir," commenced 
 the Dean, waving his visitor to a seat, " al- 
 though you must be aware that " 
 
 " I catch it ! that's enough ! unreasonable 
 hour — otherwise engaged. We could not 
 help it — time very precious with men in 
 business," replied the little man, laying down 
 his hat and stick, pulling off his gloves, and 
 diving into an inner pocket after something 
 or another. At last he caught a pocket-book, 
 after fishing for it for some time among a 
 heap of papers, and, opening it, took out a 
 note and handed it to the Dean. 
 
 " I presume this is from ?" 
 
 11 1 catch it ! that's enough ! — it is from
 
 2 1 4 GREAT TOM 
 
 the lad's tutor, formerly a member of this 
 
 The Dean was about to read it. 
 
 " That's enough ! look at the signature. 
 You'll catch it, and I'll explain to save time. 
 Mr. Robert Smudgerton, aged twenty-two, 
 crammed to suffocation in the classics. He 
 wishes to be entered immediately, and reside 
 as soon as possible." 
 
 " Are you aware, sir, that our house is 
 
 so—" 
 
 " That's quite enough — I catch it. I know 
 you are full, but I think you can find room." 
 
 " Room, perhaps, but not rooms." 
 
 " Not so bad that," said Mr. Swift, winking 
 and giving a sort of Italian opera clap with 
 his hands. " Not so decidedly bad. Money, 
 money, Mr. Dean, will find the rooms and 
 furnish them too: so have the goodness to 
 get the book and pop him down. Let me 
 know the amount of the fees, and I will give 
 you a cheque for the money." 
 
 The Dean stared, and looked perfectly dis- 
 mayed. Mr. Gabberton Swift did not see 
 the look, but went on, saying, " Gent. Com.
 
 OF OXFORD. 215 
 
 of course. We shall cash up liberally to the 
 tutors, though we don't care about the clas- 
 sics. Merely wish hirn to reside a couple of 
 years or so, just to give him a dash of respect- 
 ability. Selected your college because it is 
 the most genteel — lots of nobs here, a'n't 
 there?" 
 
 " Nobs ? Oh ! the abbreviation of nobiles, 
 he means," said the Dean, not exactly know- 
 ing how to treat his extraordinary visitor. 
 
 " What's the stumpy for a Gent. Com. ?" 
 inquired Mr. Gabberton Swift, pulling out a 
 cheque-book from a side-pocket, and seizing 
 the Dean's own swan's quill pen. 
 
 " May I venture to inquire, before we pro- 
 ceed any farther in this business, whom — " 
 
 " That's enough ! I catch it. My name 
 you know. I'm a lawyer — some would not 
 own it, but say solicitor — it is more genteel, 
 they think — / don't. I'm a lawyer, and live 
 at Brummagem." 
 
 " Where?" looked the Dean. 
 
 Mr. Swift was looking at him at that mo- 
 ment, and holding his pen, ready to fill up 
 the cheque.
 
 216 GREAT TOM 
 
 " That's enough ! — I catch it — know your 
 thoughts — Brummagem is short for Birming- 
 ham. Devil of a place for guns, and all 
 those sorts of things. We can manufacture 
 as good cannons there as you can at Ch. Ch.," 
 said Mr. Swift. 
 
 The Dean fell into a seat, deeply offended 
 at being expected to laugh at a stale pun 
 made up afresh by a Birmingham attorney. 
 " Allow me to read this note," said he, in a 
 despairing kind of whisper. 
 
 " Read fast then, for I want to be off by 
 the 'Tivy," said Swift, alluding to his wish to 
 be off by the Tantivy coach. 
 
 While the Dean was reading a short note 
 from a former member of his college, who 
 added to a curate's stipend a few pounds by 
 taking half a dozen private pupils, Mr. Swift 
 employed himself in preparing a cheque, 
 leaving a blank for the amount. Just as the 
 Dean had finished reading the note, and was 
 planning some defensible excuse for not ad- 
 mitting " a young lad who had been brought 
 up in an attorney's office, and had been 
 placed under Mr. Johnstone's care for six
 
 OF OXFORD. 217 
 
 months to prepare him for college, in order 
 that he might acquire the habits and manners 
 of a gentleman," he let the note fall from his 
 hands on hearing Mr. Swift whisper audibly — 
 
 " D d bad pen ! but what can be ex- 
 pected from a parson ? Wish he'd stir his 
 stumps." 
 
 * Mr. Swift, I am really — but I will pass 
 that over — I cannot admit the young gentle- 
 man into our house," said the Dean. 
 
 ".Why not? any thing amiss in his cha- 
 racter ? Johnstone has not presumed to say 
 anv thin? wrong- of him?" 
 
 " I beg to decline answering any ques- 
 tions," replied the Dean, in a decided and 
 dignified tone. 
 
 " I catch it — that's enough. See you're 
 up to trap. You'd make a capital witness if 
 you were properly instructed ; but, as to Mr. 
 Robert Smudgerton, if you are not satisfied 
 of his respectability from the tutor's note, I 
 must play my trump-card. There, read 
 that." 
 
 The Dean would have given a considerable 
 sum of money to have had the impudent 
 
 vol. i. L
 
 218 GREAT TOM 
 
 little lawyer kicked out of college, but it was 
 not to be done ; so he took the note, and to 
 his great surprise found a coronetted seal 
 upon it, and when he had opened it saw a 
 letter from a nob, as Mr. Swift would have 
 called him, urging him earnestly and respect- 
 fully to admit a young man, who had been 
 brought up to the law, but who had unex- 
 pectedly come into a large fortune, as a 
 member of Ch. Ch. 
 
 " That's enough — I catch it — Lord Shorte's 
 letter has done it," said Swift. " Now just 
 name the sum, and I'll fill up the cheque." 
 
 The Dean was puzzled. Lord Shorte, though 
 a poor peer with a large family, was a re- 
 spectable man, and he did not wish to offend 
 him. After a few minutes' anxious thinking 
 (during which Gabberton Swift was walking 
 round the Dean's private library, with his 
 hands beneath his coat-tails, examining the 
 engravings and paintings of what he called 
 " the clerical swells"), he told his visitor that 
 he would communicate with him through Lord 
 Shorte, and do the best he could to forward 
 their mutual wishes.
 
 OF OXFORD. 219 
 
 " That's enough — I catch it — Bobby 
 Smudge is all right ! Now, what's to pay ?" 
 
 The Dean rang the bell forcibly, and, as he 
 did so, assured the little lawyer that those 
 matters would be settled when the young 
 man came up to be matriculated. He felt 
 very much relieved when James appeared to 
 usher his visitor out. He made him a low 
 bow, but stiffened his back suddenly again, 
 when he heard Mr. Gabberton Swift say to his 
 servant that he, the Dean, " was the slowest 
 coach he had ever met with, and awfully 
 bumptious, but that he had queered him." 
 
 James grinned, but did not dare to laugh 
 ontriffht, for fear he should lose the but- 
 lership. 
 
 The candidate for admission into Ch. Ch. 
 College was Mr. Robert Smudgerton, or 
 Bobby Smudge, as he was more usually called 
 by his intimates. He was the only child of 
 a curious old man, of whom nobody but Mr. 
 Gabberton Swift knew any thing : and he 
 knew but little until, by a mere chance, he 
 became his man of business. 
 
 He dwelt upon a sort of common, upon a 
 
 l2
 
 220 GREAT TOM 
 
 small farm which had been left him by his 
 orefathers, and which was deemed to be of 
 so little value that, had it been thrown upon 
 the market, no one would have given a bid- 
 ding- for it except to insure himself a vote 
 for the county. The little freehold might 
 have contained some seventy or eighty acres 
 of very bad land indeed, and the house and 
 homestead were very small, and in a very 
 dilapidated condition. About twenty acres 
 were ploughed, and produced but scanty 
 erops of corn ; and the common, as it was 
 called, though it was not a common, but his 
 own private property, enabled the owner to 
 keep a flock of sheep. By dealing in these, 
 and chopping and changing ewes for tegs, and 
 tegs for ewes, he contrived to get enough to 
 make both ends of the year meet, and to lay 
 by a few pounds, or rather guineas, for he had 
 an idea that a bank-note might possibly be- 
 come what Cobbett called it — "a mere rag;" 
 while gold, he knew, would always find a 
 market at its own intrinsic value. 
 
 Old Smudi>ert on's wife was a thrift v wo- 
 man, and made a pretty penny by her poultry.
 
 OF OXFORD. 221 
 
 She was clever in rearing turkeys, geese, and 
 ducks. In fattening chickens and turkey- 
 poults, she was unrivalled. A green goose of 
 her rearing was looked upon as a delicacy ; 
 and the higgler who could bid high enough 
 to secure every one of those which she 
 meant to part with, deemed himself a lucky 
 man. 
 
 As they had but one child, and lived upon 
 almost nothing, had no rent to pay, and very 
 few taxes, they soon scraped enough money 
 together, to purchase, at a mere trifle, the 
 remainder of what was called the common. 
 Lord Shorte, their nearest neighbour, thought 
 himself a fortunate peer to meet with a 
 purchaser of what to him was really value- 
 less, and his bailiff thought old Smudgerton 
 a greater fool than he took him to be for 
 laying out his gold on so worthless a soil. 
 " The old fool ! " said he to himself, as he 
 pocketed the guineas, " to go and give a hun- 
 dred and fifty good gold coins for a few acres 
 of barren hill, without grass enough upon it 
 to save a sheep from starving." 
 
 It chanced one day that the flock which
 
 222 GREAT TOM 
 
 had been pastured upon this bit of ground 
 were driven home by their owner just as 
 a clever medical man, who dwelt in the 
 neighbourhood, was riding by. " Hoigh ! Mr. 
 Doctor," called out old Smudgerton, " folk 
 do tell I you knows a mint of things ; can'st 
 tell I what 'tis as sticks to sheep's legs here- 
 about, and makes 'em all yellow-like ?" 
 
 The Doctor dismounted from his horse, and 
 carefully examined the animals' legs, and 
 then begged to be shown the spot where they 
 had been feeding. It was pointed out to 
 him ; and when he had examined very care- 
 fully the soil of a narrow ditch, down which 
 a small stream trickled, he asked to whom 
 the land belonged. 
 
 " To I, to be sure," said the farmer. " I 
 paid for un in golden guineas." 
 
 " Have you got the deeds right and safe ?" 
 
 " Trust I for that. Master Gabberton 
 Swift, of Brummagem, took care of that, 
 and did not forget to charge for 't." 
 
 " Then I can only tell you, if I'm not de- 
 ceived, that you have a fortune in this bit of 
 land. There is a vein of yellow ochre here
 
 OF OXFORD. 223 
 
 which is very valuable. I will take a portion 
 of the soil home and analyze it." 
 
 " Do," said the farmer ; " and if it turns 
 into gold, thee shalt have thy share of it." 
 
 The analysis proved the doctor's conjec- 
 ture. The soil about ten feet below the sur- 
 face of the " barren hill " proved to be a fine 
 vein of yellow ochre about nine or ten inches 
 in thickness. By a judicious management of 
 the pit, under the doctor's suggestions, to 
 whom the owner honourably gave a fair per 
 centage, the profits of it were enormous. 
 The old man did not change his mode of 
 living in his prosperity, but kept on, quietly 
 adding field to field and house to house, until 
 he became a large landed proprietor. 
 
 Mr. Gabberton Smith thought himself a 
 lucky man in having been employed by old 
 Smudgerton to make out the title-deeds of 
 the " barren hill," as he did it so effectually 
 that all attempts upon the part of Lord 
 Shorte to find a defect in them were vain. 
 This ensured him all the business of the lucky 
 purchaser, and enabled him to put many a 
 pound into his pocket, by conveying lands in
 
 224 GREAT TOM 
 
 the neighbourhood to his fortunate employer. 
 He foresaw that, with Smudgerton's habits 
 and mode of living, the son would one day 
 or another be a very wealthy man. He 
 advised the father, and the advice was given 
 disinterestedly, to send him to a public 
 school, and make a scholar and a gentleman 
 of him, 
 
 " 'Tain't in un, man, 'tain't in un, I tell ye ; 
 but, if you'll take un and make a lawyer on 
 un, I'll ha' un taught to read and write," said 
 the father. 
 
 Two years after that promise, our hero, 
 Mr. Robert Smudgerton, might have been 
 seen perched on a high stool in Mr. Gabber- 
 ton Swift's office, having been taught to write 
 a very fair but cramped hand at a little 
 school in the neighbourhood. As to spelling, 
 that was the rock he split upon. He could 
 copy anything very neatly, but when he had 
 to write a bit of original manuscript, he made 
 a sad mess of it. The ph, in such words as 
 philosopher, was a puzzler; but his great 
 difficulty was in giving the preference to the 
 ie or ei. So, when he came to a word like
 
 OF OXFORD. 225 
 
 believe, he was cunning enough to write two 
 ees, and put a dot just over the middle of 
 them, leaving the reader to imagine that his 
 error was the result of a mere lapsus plumte. 
 
 Well, people cannot live for ever. Old 
 Smudgerton died, and his wife too, leaving 
 their son sole heir to a very large sum of 
 ready money, and several very valuable 
 estates, amongst which was the bit of " bar- 
 ren hill," which Lord Shorte's bailiff thought 
 him such an old fool for having purchased 
 of his master in exchange for pure golden 
 guineas. 
 
 Lord Shorte, when he heard of the amount to 
 which Master Robert Smudgerton had succeed- 
 ed, upon the death of his hard-working parents, 
 suddenly felt a great interest in him, and re- 
 solved to see him, and, if he found any thing 
 to work upon in him, to make a gentleman of 
 him. He thought that it might not be a very 
 bad speculation to restore the bit of " barren 
 hill " to the family again, by uniting the owner 
 of it to one of his numerous daughters. 
 
 His inquiries at Mr. Gabberton Swift's into 
 the sayings and doings of Master Bobby 
 
 L 5
 
 226 GREAT TOM 
 
 Smudge may serve to give you an insight 
 into the habits and pursuits of that fortunate 
 young man. 
 
 " I have called, Mr. Swift," said his lord- 
 ship, " to ask a few questions concerning Mr. 
 Robert Smud — " 
 
 " That's enough ! I catch it — called to 
 pump me about our Bobby," replied Mr. 
 Swift. 
 
 Lord Shorte's face lengthened at " our 
 Bobby ;" but he merely bowed and inquired 
 if he was steady, attentive to his business, and 
 gentlemanly in his habits and manners. 
 
 " That's enough — I catch it. Your lord- 
 ship means, will he ever be presentable — ad- 
 missible into good society, and fit to go to 
 church with a real lady." 
 
 His lordship winced, but smiled and nodded 
 affirmatively. 
 
 " As to steadiness," said Mr. Swift, " he 
 copies out what I set him to do, and then 
 goes to his dogs, ferrets, and other animals, 
 of which he is very fond." 
 
 " As a natural historian or a sporting man ?" 
 
 " I object to that question," said Swift,
 
 OF OXFORD. V%7 
 
 " because I cannot answer it satisfactorily. 
 All I can say is he keeps several dogs with 
 very flat noses, short-cropped ears, and to- 
 bacco-pipe tails, with which he worries 
 badgers, rats, and cats. He keeps them at a 
 neighbouring public, for my wife cannot bear 
 the noise of the dogs or the smell of the 
 ferrets. That's enough — I think your lord- 
 ship catches it." 
 
 His lordship nodded. 
 
 " As to your lordship's next question, 
 touching his habits and manners, I see but 
 very little of him after office-hours, but I am 
 told that he sings a capital song, tells a re- 
 markably good story, spends his money like a 
 gentleman, as the sporting men assert, and is 
 particularly good-tempered when he has had 
 his allowance." 
 
 " Oh, you allow him a few guineas a week 
 then, for pocket-money ?"' 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! that is not enough — your 
 lordship does not catch it. I mean his allow- 
 ance — of grog," said Gabberton, looking 
 rather astonished that a peer should be so 
 ignorant.
 
 228 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Can I see the young man ?" (His lord- 
 ship was about to say gentleman, but a vision 
 of bull-dogs, ferrets, and glasses of grog came 
 across him.) " I should like to have a little 
 conversation with him." 
 
 The little lawyer sprung up and opened a 
 little window, and bade some one tell Mr. 
 Smudgerton that Lord Shorte wished to speak 
 with him. 
 
 After an interval of some five minutes, 
 during which Lord Shorte appeared to be 
 absorbed in contemplating the conveniences of 
 Gabberton Swift's offices, and the lawyer to 
 be writing for his life on a sheet of brief-paper 
 lying before him, the young gentleman entered 
 the private room of his legal tutor. He was 
 dressed in a very large pair of Cossack trou- 
 sers tied in over his ankles, a red-striped 
 waistcoat, and a sea-green cut-away coat — 
 each of these, his upper vestments, being fur- 
 nished with a double set of pockets. His 
 hair was closely cropped in front, but left 
 long behind, and brushed furiously up over 
 his ears. About his neck he wore a cambric
 
 OF OXFORD. 229 
 
 kerchief, of which the ground was blue and 
 the pattern red. 
 
 Lord Shorte shuddered. Gabberton Swift 
 observed the paroxysm, and said, " That's 
 enough ! I catch it — he won't do." 
 
 His lordship instantly disguised his disgust, 
 and blandly asked Mr. Smudgerton how he 
 did, to which that young gentleman, in a voice 
 very like that of a cuckoo with a cold, or a 
 cabman on night-duty at Christmas, replied, 
 " Tol-lollish, considering." 
 
 " Ahem !" coughed his lordship, hardly 
 knowing how to commence a conversation 
 with such a curious specimen of wealthy mor- 
 tality. " Ahem ! I hope you like your pro- 
 fession ?" 
 
 " Tol-lollish — considering ; but profession 
 ain't practice, as Will, the rat-catcher says, 
 and I ain't going to practice my profes- 
 sion." 
 
 " That's enough ! his lordship catches it," 
 said Swift. 
 
 " Does he, by goles ? then he's quicker than 
 my dog, the Duffer, and he can catch a rat 
 quicker than here and there one !" said Smud-
 
 230 GREAT TOM 
 
 gerton, taking up his master's penknife and 
 quietly paring his nails with it. 
 
 " May I venture to ask your age, Mr. 
 Smudgerton ?" inquired Lord Shorte. 
 
 " Nothing venture, nothing have, as Will 
 says. I was one and twenty last grass," re- 
 plied " our Bobby." 
 
 " Bless me ! of age ? — come into his pro- 
 perty ?" said Lord Shorte, looking interroga- 
 -** tively at Mr. Swift. 
 
 " I wish I was — wouldn't I buy Will's Tip- 
 pitywichet, the black and tan terrier — that's 
 all ! I've got some tol-lollish ones, but she 
 is an astonishing one for vermin," replied 
 Bobby with a knowing nod. 
 
 " That is not enough — your lordship does 
 not catch it. Mr. Smudgerton does not come 
 of age until he has completed his twenty-fifth 
 year," said Mr. Gabberton Swift. 
 
 " No thanks to you neither, old gentleman, 
 for tipping the other old gentleman the sug- 
 gestion," said Mr. Bobby. 
 
 " I did it all for the best, young man, 
 and—" 
 
 " So did my little bitch, Viper, when she
 
 OF OXFORD. 231 
 
 grabbed one of Will's bantam -chicks instead 
 of an old water-rat," said Bobby, finishing the 
 circle of his very dirty thumb-nail. 
 
 Poor Lord Shorte was positively dismayed. 
 Lawyer Swift enjoyed the scene greatly, and 
 would have prolonged the fun had not " our 
 Bobby" taken out his watch and said that 
 " time was up and he was wanted elsewhere. 
 He was particularly engaged to a tol-lollish 
 party at the Ball to see a snake fed upon 
 frogs, and had backed him to eat one, that 
 measured four inches by two, at a gulp." 
 
 " That's enough ! we catch it — you may go." 
 
 Lord Shorte rose, and made Mr. Smud- 
 gerton a very polite bow, which that young 
 gentleman returned, by raising his elbow, and 
 then dropping his wrist, as if he was double 
 thonging the near wheeler. As he left the 
 private office, he whispered, but loudly enough 
 for his lordship to hear the observation — 
 
 " Call that a peer ? — I could manufacture 
 a better out of a Brummagem button-maker." 
 
 " Hush ! that's enough — his lordship will 
 catch it," replied Mr. Swift, as he thrust the 
 cub out of the door.
 
 232 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Can any thing be done with him ? It is 
 really a pity that so fine a property — " 
 
 " And adjoining your lordship's park — " 
 
 " Should be thrown away upon such — " 
 
 " That's enough ! how can we make a gen- 
 tleman of him ?" 
 
 At the terminus of a railroad debate upon 
 the possibility of converting a low-minded, 
 vulgar wretch into a presentable person, it 
 was resolved nem. con. — for there was no one 
 to put in a dictum contra — that " our Bobby" 
 should be released from his articles in Mr. 
 Swift's office, and be properly prepared to 
 subscribe to the Thirty-nine Articles in the 
 study of Mr. Johnstone, the curate of the 
 parish in which the yellow ochre vein lay, and 
 which had proved a mine of wealth to its for- 
 tunate owner. 
 
 Lord Shorte sighed as he took his seat in 
 the curricle, and thought that fortune had 
 been very spiteful towards him, in not having 
 suggested to Ms sheep to show their yellow 
 legs to an experimental chemist in the shape 
 of a parish apothecary. 
 
 I will pass over the period that " our
 
 OF OXFORD. 233 
 
 Bobby" spent at his tutor's, merely observing 
 that he read but very little, and spent the 
 greater part of his time at a neighbouring ale- 
 house, where, without Mr. Johnstone's know- 
 ledge, he kept his dogs, ferrets, and other 
 live-stock. He was remarkably surly all the 
 morning, and scarcely spoke to any one; but 
 when he returned from his " quiet walk " — 
 for so he accounted for his visit to the ale- 
 house — he made himself as agreeable as such 
 a brute could do, although Mrs. Johnstone 
 sometimes fancied that he must have spent 
 his time in the greenhouse — his clothes smelt 
 so very strong of tobacco, which, she was 
 aware, her gardener burnt in large quantities 
 to kill the insects. 
 
 Let us proceed to describe his college 
 career. 
 
 " I have examined that young person, in a 
 very extraordinary dress and with a most in- 
 harmonious voice, whom you sent to me, 
 Mr. Dean, with a kind of keeper — a dapper 
 little fellow, who would hardly let me speak 
 a word— and really I cannot conscientiously 
 pronounce him qualified to enter."
 
 234 GREAT TOM 
 
 " I was afraid so, Mr. Subaudite," said the 
 Dean. " But does he not know sufficient to 
 qualify him for a short residence and an ho- 
 norary degree ? Lord Shorte has taken him 
 by the hand — " 
 
 " I am surprised at that," said the college 
 tutor, quietly, " he appears so unfamiliar with 
 soap and water." 
 
 " Really, Mr. Subaudite, you are growing 
 too severe," said the Dean, exchanging an 
 incipient smile into a decided frown. " Lord 
 Shorte is very anxious to render this young 
 man, his nearest neighbour, and the possessor 
 of considerable property, a presentable per- 
 son, and really his legal adviser — " 
 
 " What, that's enough ! I catch it !" 
 
 " His legal adviser, Mr. Something Quick 
 — Speedy — or Fast — I forget his name — " 
 
 " Swift," suggested the tutor. 
 
 " I thank you, sir ; Mr. Swift, as I was 
 about to observe when you interrupted me, 
 has manifested a creditable share of worldly 
 acumen by selecting our house for such a pur- 
 pose, in preference to any college. Cannot
 
 OF OXFORD. 235 
 
 you, by a little stretch of conscience, pro- 
 nounce him admissible?" 
 
 " You shall judge for yourself, Mr. Dean. 
 I put him on in an easy ode of Horace, and, 
 as he could not translate literally, 
 
 ligna super foco 
 
 Large reponens : 
 
 I begged him to render it freely, which he did 
 thus — 
 
 Molly, put the kettle on. 
 
 The Dean could not resist this ; it was too 
 ridiculous ; and after a hearty laugh, in which 
 the tutor joined, it was decided that Mr. Ro- 
 bert Smudgerton should be admitted, matri- 
 culated, and allowed to come into residence 
 at once if he would promise to engage a pri- 
 vate tutor and read hard. 
 
 " That's enough ! he'll catch it ! he's no 
 fool, though he looks a little awkward at 
 first," said Mr. Gabberton Swift, when Mr. 
 Subaudite mentioned the terms on which alone 
 Mr. Smudgerton would be allowed to keep 
 his terms in college. 
 
 Bobby nudged his former master, and whis-
 
 236 GREAT TOM 
 
 pered, " he would not stand having a chap 
 over him all day long, and bothering him 
 about books." 
 
 " Pish ! say you will, and don't do it after- 
 wards — that's enough," replied Swift, in a 
 friendly whisper. 
 
 Bobby winked, and then, turning to his new 
 tutor, said " he should be most particular 
 happy." 
 
 This difficult point having been settled, the 
 ceremonies were soon performed, and Mr. 
 Smudgerton was a member of our house. 
 Mr. Gabberton Swift, as soon as he had seen 
 him settled in his rooms, placed in his hands 
 a bank-note, value one hundred pounds, and 
 left him, with this little bit of advice, " lark 
 away, as much as you like, but don't be 
 caught out by the dons, or done by the 
 duns." 
 
 Mr. Robert Smudgerton took the note to a 
 banker's, and got it changed for gold. He 
 amused himself for some hours in counting 
 over his sovereigns, and then had a game 
 with them at pitch and toss by himself. He 
 got tired of this, however; and when his
 
 OF OXFORD. 237 
 
 scout came to inquire if he wanted any thing-, 
 he told him he wanted to buy a dog or two, 
 and asked him if he could recommend him to 
 any person who dealt in them. 
 
 " Tom Sharp's your man, sir. He lives in 
 George Lane, and keeps all sorts of animals, 
 from a mouse up to a mastiff, and a very 
 respectable public-house," said the scout. 
 
 Bobby was delighted, and gave the servant 
 a shilling to drink his health, which he de- 
 clined, assuring him that an unlimited order 
 on the buttery for all the college servants was 
 expected of every Freshman. This was soon 
 written out; and, although it was worded, 
 " give the barer and his pals as much bere as 
 they can drink," it was obeyed. 
 
 " But whereabouts is George Lane?" in- 
 quired Bobby. " And how am I to know 
 Tom Sharp's house ?" 
 
 " Go out of Tom Gate, sir, turn to your 
 right, and keep straight on along the Corn 
 Market until you come to a church on your 
 right. The first turning on vour left after 
 you have passed the church is George Lane.
 
 238 GREAT TOM 
 
 As to finding the house, you have only to 
 follow your nose, and you can't mistake it, 
 for Tom Sharp keeps such a lot of stinking 
 animals that you can wind them half a mile 
 off." 
 
 Bobby's scout sunk several degrees in his 
 new master's estimation ; for he thought the 
 odora canum vis — if the passage may be con- 
 strued — " the agreeable smell of a dog- 
 kennel" superior to any of the esprits sold 
 and professed to be manufactured by Delcroix, 
 or any other eminent scent-maker. 
 
 The directions given to him by his servant 
 were so plain, that Mr. Smudgerton could not 
 mistake them, and the powerful odour pro- 
 ceeding from a mixture of vermin and dogs, 
 with the meats on which they were fed, led 
 him to the door of Mr. Sharp's abode. 
 
 " Look out, Tom," said a sort of cad, half 
 inn-porter and 'other half under-gamekeeper. 
 " Here's a new customer. A raw country- 
 man, if one may judge by his dress." 
 
 " I had rather he had been a Lunnuner," 
 said Tom ; " for they thinks themselves so
 
 OF OXFORD. 239 
 
 precious clever, and that's what they ain't, 
 at least, in my line. Show the gent, in, 
 William." 
 
 Bobby Smudge entered, and was shown into 
 the yard — a narrow, confined spot about six- 
 teen by fourteen feet, occupied in every corner 
 by dogs, badgers, ferrets, pole-cats, rats, mice, 
 poultry, and pigeons. A horrible din arose 
 when they saw a stranger. For some minutes 
 all passed in dumb show, for not a word could 
 be heard until Tom Sharp and Will, his son, 
 had knocked down some half a dozen of the 
 largest dogs with the enormously big sticks 
 which they carried with them for the purpose 
 of keeping order in their canine parliament. 
 I say parliament, because the crowing of cocks 
 and the natural cries of the various animals 
 put you strongly in mind of " another place" 
 where the imitation of those cries is deemed a 
 very clever performance. 
 
 As soon as the tumult caused by 
 
 Dog and whelp of high renown, 
 And cur of low degree, 
 
 had dwindled to a calm, Mr. Sharp began to 
 show his stock individually, and to expatiate
 
 240 GREAT TOM 
 
 on their respective merits. Mr. Smudgerton 
 examined their points and their teeth, and did 
 other little experiments peculiar to gentlemen 
 n the fancy line so scientifically, that Mr. 
 Sharp looked around at his son Will, and gave 
 him a sign, which meant — " he is not to be 
 imposed upon ;" to which Will replied by a 
 counter-sign, implying, " try it on, but 
 mildly." 
 
 During the examination, our hero, Mr. 
 Bobby, had not spoken a syllable, or seemed 
 to listen to the owner of the promiscuous lot 
 before him. He had merely taken out a sort 
 of betting-book, and entered certain observa- 
 tions whenever an animal seemed likely to suit 
 him. When they had completed the circuit of 
 the menagerie, he asked, " What Mr. Sharp 
 kept ?" 
 
 " Dogs, foxes, badgers, and — but I can 
 get you any thing you please, sir," said Mr. 
 Sharp. 
 
 " Stuff, man ! — I mean, what do you keep 
 in the house ?" 
 
 Tom Sharp thought it a very odd question, 
 and doubted if his questioner was sane. " Does
 
 OF OXFORD. 241 
 
 he think we keep monkeys, and them sort of 
 Orientals ?" said he, aside, to his son. 
 
 " What a fool you are, father ! the gentle- 
 man only wants to know what lickers you 
 keep. Don't you, sir?" said the dutiful son. 
 
 Mr. Bobby nodded. 
 
 " Please to walk in, sir ?" said Mr. Sharp, 
 suddenly changing his tone and manners from 
 a swaggering dog-dealer to a perfectly polite 
 landlord. 
 
 " Of course I do please," said Bobby 
 Smudge, in his croaking way, like a raven 
 with a quinsy. 
 
 He was shown into a snug parlour, which 
 was decorated with portraits of fancy-dogs 
 and fancy-men, celebrated pedestrians, noto- 
 rious cricket-players, and fighting cocks in a 
 variety of attitudes. The scene that followed 
 I will not describe — suffice it to say, that a 
 great deal of liquid was consumed ; and, 
 although Mr. Sharp was considered the strong- 
 est-headed and most lasting drinker in Ox- 
 fordshire, and his son was supposed to inherit 
 the paternal virtues, Mr. Robert Smudgerton 
 left them both under the table. He walked, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 GREAT TOM 
 
 or rather staggered, into College, at eleven 
 o'clock at night, having won his reckoning, 
 £l 15s., and a £5 note at cribbage, and ani- 
 mals of which he had the list in his pocket, 
 and which were to be delivered at nine next 
 morning-, to the nominal value of ^812 10-s. at 
 put. 
 
 Tom Sharp had been completely taken in. 
 He thought he was a match, and more than a 
 match, for any man, much more for a Fresh- 
 man. And, as to a gentleman-commoner 
 Freshman, he had never met with one before 
 out of whom he had not made a considerable 
 sum of money — but he had never met' with 
 one before who had condescended to sit down 
 and smoke with him — not to speak of taking 
 a hand at cribbage and put. 
 
 " Father, we were done last night, and I 
 have a norrible 'eadach this morning," said 
 Will, addressing his father, who appeared very 
 ill too. 
 
 " Was it all fair and aboveboard ?" inquired 
 the father. " No — you know what." 
 
 " All right, I believe — I really do." 
 
 " Where could he have been taught ?"
 
 OF OXFORD. 243 
 
 " Teached, you mean," said the son, who 
 had been to a " British school." 
 
 " Well — teached, then — if that young man 
 does not take a fust, and turn out an honour 
 to his college, I don't know who will. We 
 are regular sold, but we must act like men of 
 honour, Will. Here is the list of what we've 
 got to send to Christ Church, and as you say 
 they was fairly won, why we'll pay our debts 
 like gentlemen." 
 
 " We must look out for a flat, father, to 
 cover the loss," said Will. 
 
 " No occasion for that, Will ; they will 
 come to our net without our dragging for them. 
 Recollect that animals are risin forty per 
 cent., and rats are not to be had at no price ; 
 but now to act like men of honour." 
 
 Mr. Tom Sharp and his son Will, acting on 
 the principle above alluded to, selected a lot 
 of living things, and stowed them away in a 
 most miraculous manner ; so much so, that 
 when they entered Canterbury Quad from 
 Oriel Lane, they appeared to be doing nothing 
 but taking a brace of setters into college for 
 a gentleman's approval. 
 
 M 2
 
 244 GREAT TOM 
 
 The porter of Canterbury Gate fancied he 
 saw several things moving in the pockets of 
 each of the dog-fanciers, and smelt something 
 so powerful as to induce him to borrow the 
 under-porter's snuff-box, and take a very 
 large pinch of common Scotch out of it. 
 
 They were shown to Mr. Smudgerton's 
 rooms, the father and the son. Filias tali 
 patre dignus ! and left them in a sad state of 
 renewed intoxication about mid-day. 
 
 u I think of calling on Mr. Smudsferton 
 this morning, Mr. Dean, and introducing him 
 to his private tutor," said Mr. Subaudite. 
 
 " You will oblige me by so doing," replied 
 the Dean, " for I have a letter from Lord 
 Shorte, saying he shall be passing through 
 here to-day, and shall impose upon my hos- 
 pitality for a dinner. I shall ask Smudgerton 
 to meet him, for I rather like Lord Shorte, 
 and his interest is considerable." 
 
 " Ahem! yes — but he has a very large 
 family," suggested Mr. Subaudite. 
 
 " True, but all in the army or navy ; some
 
 OF OXFORD. 245 
 
 in the ; but never mind — do go and call 
 
 on Mr. Smudgerton." 
 
 " That's enough — I catch it," said Mr. 
 Subaudite, imitating Mr. Gabber ton Swift so 
 accurately, as to cause the Dean to descend 
 from his dignity, and laugh so loudly, that 
 James came in to inquire if his master had 
 called. 
 
 " No, sirrah," said the Dean, " I did not 
 call, and you know I did not. Show Mr. 
 Subaudite out, and never presume again 
 to—" 
 
 " I don't mean to it. I gives warning in 
 the presence of a witness. I quits this day 
 month," said James, for the butlership had 
 been given away to another. 
 
 The Dean bowed to the senior tutor, and 
 bade James come in to receive his wages, and 
 quit immediately. A few words of expla- 
 nation, however, and a promise of the first 
 vacant good office, induced James to apologize 
 for his rudeness and resume his duties. 
 
 We must follow Mr. Subaudite to the rooms 
 of Mr. Smudgerton. 
 
 He was accompanied by a worthy and ex-
 
 246 GREAT TOM 
 
 cellent young man, who had entered the col- 
 lege as a servitor (you hear, Mr. Cuique?), 
 and by perseverance had gained the highest 
 honours of the University. He had but just 
 taken his bachelor's degree; and his kind 
 friend, Mr. Subaudite, thought that, by 
 making him the private tutor of Mr. Smud- 
 gerton, he should enable him to reside com- 
 fortably in college, and try for the prizes 
 open to those who have taken their first de- 
 gree, instead of sending him into some private 
 family as a crammer of the juvenile branches. 
 
 They reached Mr. Robert Smudgerton's 
 door and knocked. No answer was returned. 
 The college tutor knocked again and again, 
 and, finding that his application was not suc- 
 cessful, took out his card and opened the 
 door, meaning to leave it on the table. 
 
 He entered the room, and found, to his 
 great surprise, the owner of the room fast 
 asleep on the sofa. 
 
 " Poor young man," said he, turning round 
 to the youthful candidate for the tutorship of 
 the brute, " poor young man, he has been 
 over-reading himself."
 
 OF OXFORD. 247 
 
 " I should fear not, sir: these tankards 
 and these bottles — I — " 
 
 " Dear me ! I did not observe them. He 
 cannot have been — can he ?" 
 
 " Drinking ? I should hope not." 
 
 " No, he has been writing — see, here is the 
 manuscript," said Mr. Subaudite, taking out 
 his spectacles, in order that he might deci- 
 pher it more clearly. 
 
 " Dear me, what does it mean ?" 
 
 To two setters 
 
 
 £10 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 one pole cat in pup . 
 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 one one-eyed ferret . 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 6 
 
 one magpie as talks . 
 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 two snakes as is tame 
 
 
 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 one dozen rats, warranted . 
 
 
 
 6 
 
 
 
 two white mice and a 
 
 squir 
 
 rel 
 
 9 
 
 
 
 
 £13 
 
 17 
 
 6 
 
 Receeved the above as part set-off' of chalks, cribbage, 
 and put scores. 
 
 Robert Smudgerton. 
 
 And promises to take out the remainder in animals 
 and drink. 
 
 At the bottom of this interesting document 
 was written — 
 
 I agrees to the above. 
 
 Tom Sharp, his x mark.
 
 248 GREAT TOM 
 
 Had any one seen the look which Mr. 
 Subaudite cast on his protege, the expectant 
 tutor of this hopeful youth, they would never 
 have forgotten it. It was the amalgam of 
 disgust and despair. 
 
 " Let us leave him, let us leave him," he 
 said, sighing. " Oh that the Dean had taken 
 my hint !" 
 
 " Hilloh ! who are you f What the dev — ! 
 Oh, I really beg pardon. I have been — eh, 
 where have I been ? But you'll take another 
 tankard — don't be regular muffs and say no," 
 said Bobby Smudge, rousing himself into an 
 indistinct wakefulness. 
 
 " Mr. Smudgerton, I will sit down, and 
 beg of my young friend, whom I meant to in- 
 troduce to you as your tutor, to do the same, 
 but we are really " 
 
 "And so am I," said Bobby — "awfully 
 dry — ring the bell! Oh, curse these col- 
 lege rooms, they never has any — how's the 
 governor ? Quite right, I hope ?" 
 
 " This is horrible," said Mr. Subaudite. 
 
 " We had really better retire," said his 
 young friend.
 
 OF OXFORD. 249 
 
 "Pooh! — stuff! — we'll soon have them 
 filled again," said Bobby, trying to get to 
 the window to call his scout. He fell down, 
 however, in transitu ; the young man picked 
 him up, and threw him rather than laid hi in 
 upon his sofa, where he remained talking in- 
 coherently for some time. 
 
 " Dreadful ! horrible ! ah ! ahah ! what is 
 this? take it off. I shall die, I know I shall. 
 Ah ! ah !" The first class man rushed to 
 Mr. Subaudite's assistance, and found a beau- 
 tiful green snake curled round one of his 
 legs. In less than one minute, the fellow- 
 one of the " two snakes as is tame" was cur- 
 ling round the other leg, and poor Mr. Subau- 
 dite, who had a great horror of reptiles, fell 
 flat upon the floor. 
 
 " Hurrah ! he's down !" shouted Master 
 Bobby. "Thought me a mere country fool, 
 but I have done him brown, very brown, in- 
 deed." 
 
 " What is all this about ?" said the Dean, 
 entering the rooms with Lord Shorte — a most 
 unusual and condescending act on the part of 
 one of our Deans. 
 
 m 5
 
 250 GREAT TOM 
 
 An explanation was speedily given. Mr. 
 Subaudite was released from the poor, inno- 
 cent snakes; and Master Bobby Smudge 
 roused from his spirituous slumbers, but only 
 to tell the Dean that he was a humbug ; Lord 
 Shorte, that his designs on him were " no 
 go ;" and Mr. Sabaudite and his young friend, 
 
 the tutor in posse, that they might go to 
 
 where we cannot mention. 
 
 " I give him up," said Lord Shorte. 
 
 " I shall expel him," said the Dean. 
 
 " Rusticate him for ever," said the humane 
 tutor ; " it will do as well, and not be thought 
 so severe a sentence." 
 
 Mr. Bobby Smudge was allowed to take 
 his name off the books, and went down to tell 
 his friend, Mr. Gabberton Swift, how ill he 
 had been used, accompanied by two setters, 
 one pole-cat in pup, one one-eyed ferret, one 
 magpie as talks, two snakes as is tame — no 
 rats ; for they were not warranted to keep — 
 but two white mice and a squirrel. 
 
 " That's enough ! I catch it ! You are 
 done for life. No little Miss Lady Shorte 
 for you," said Mr. Swift.
 
 OF OXFORD. 251 
 
 " She be sniggled, or any thing else ! I'll 
 go and enjoy life," said Bobby Smudge. 
 
 He did enjoy life — but for a very short 
 period, for he was bitten by a fox in the 
 thumb, and died raving-mad. 
 
 Tom Sharp and his son Will, when they 
 read of it in the papers, smoked an extra 
 pipe, and said they were very sorry for it, 
 for that Mr. Robert Smudgerton was such a 
 very nice young man.
 
 252 GREAT TOM 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE COMMEMORATION. 
 
 Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero 
 Pulsanda Townhall ; nunc elegantioribus, 
 
 Ornare the tables of college 
 
 Tempus erat, spreadibus, sodales. 
 
 HORATIUS ALTERATUS. 
 
 " Well, I declare I am almost as wearied 
 with telling you my tales," said Tom, " as I 
 am at Commemoration-time, when my clapper 
 is going from morning until night, or more 
 poetically, 
 
 ' From sunny morn to dewy eve.' " 
 
 "Commemoration! what is that?" I in- 
 quired. 
 
 " The annual meeting whereat the Profes- 
 sor of Orotory (the Public Orator, as he is 
 called) makes a very intelligible Latin speech
 
 OF OXFORD. 253 
 
 to the ladies, God bless them ! and to coun- 
 try gentlemen, on the merits and virtues of 
 those antients who, from the best motives no 
 doubt, founded colleges, endowed fellowships, 
 and bequeathed livings and libraries for the 
 promotion of literature and the comfort of 
 learned men. It is also called the En- 
 ccenia." 
 
 " Enccenia ? why that is the name of a 
 Jewish festival — the celebration of the build- 
 ing of the Temple. How does it apply to a 
 Christian ceremony ?" 
 
 " Never you mind about that ; we call it 
 by that name in Oxford, from Vice-Chan- 
 cellor to Poker-Bearer, so it must be right : 
 — humanum est errare does not apply 
 to Oxford when classicality is called in 
 question." 
 
 " Nor to our sister, Cambridge, I pre- 
 sume, when anything mathematical is on the 
 tapis.'" 
 
 " Of course not; neither of us can be 
 radically wrong, for we spend our days in 
 digging for Latin and Greek roots; they
 
 254 GREAT TOM 
 
 theirs in searching for the roots of cubes and 
 all sorts of figures." 
 
 " It must be a most solemn and serious 
 sight, this Commemoration," said I. "In 
 raking up the manes of so many pious and 
 charitable individuals, the minds of all must 
 be—" 
 
 " Ah ! ha ! ha !" burst out Great Tom. 
 " Bless your ignorant freshness ! Gloomy ! 
 Serious! Stuff! The Commemoration-week 
 is the j oiliest in all the year. Such a crowd 
 of lions and lionesses, with all their cubs 
 and — " 
 
 " Oh ! I suppose Wombwell comes down 
 with his exhibition at that time. It must be 
 a good speculation," said I. 
 
 Tom laughed in a succession of bom, bom, 
 boms, which fairly shook his tower, and made 
 me tremble for the stability of the beam 
 above him. 
 
 " You are very green, indeed," said he, 
 " not to know that, in Oxford, lions and 
 lionesses mean masculine and feminine stran- 
 gers, and cubs, their little dears of both sexes,
 
 OF OXFORD. 255 
 
 whom they bring up with them to see their 
 brothers and the nice young men at college. 
 If you have such a thing as a maiden aunt, a 
 sister, or a cousin, mind and invite her to see 
 you next June. You cannot please her 
 more. What with balls, concerts, archery, 
 and Latin speeches, boat-racing, champagning, 
 and Blenheim and Nunehamizing, their days 
 and nights fly like the champagne-corks, and 
 their spirits flow like the ale-barrels in the 
 college butteries." 
 
 " It must be very jolly, but rather expen- 
 sive, I fear," said I. 
 
 " You an undergraduate, and talk of the 
 expense of anything ! Pooh ! Tell them to 
 put it down in the bill, and think of the 
 amount when you have taken your degree. 
 If you should not happen to think of it then, 
 your purveyors will not fail to remind you of 
 it. Like me, your tradesman can't go on 
 ticking for ever without being wound up. 
 Just lie still, and I will give you a notion of 
 some of the fun of a Commemoration." 
 
 We had at one time two very lively brothers
 
 256 GREAT TOM 
 
 up here together, who were very great favour- 
 ites with everybody, from the Dean to the 
 scouts' boys. They were full of fun, and always 
 laughing themselves, or causing others to 
 laugh ; it was impossible to be dull in their 
 company ; for, what with jokes, and frolics, 
 and harmless mischief — they had no real vice 
 about them — they afforded every one a fund 
 of amusement. 
 
 Their name was Leech, and how to distin- 
 guish the two when speaking of them afforded 
 some little difficulty. Leech senior and Leech 
 junior was too formal ; old Leech and young 
 Leech not appropriate, for each of them 
 appeared to be of exactly the same age as 
 the other. As to their christian names, the 
 elder was called Horatio, and the younger 
 Cicero, through the excessive classicality of 
 their governor, and it was impossible to find 
 the short for either of them, and to call them 
 by their full length would not have been 
 familiar enough. Altogether, it was a knot 
 difficult to be untied ; until one of our men, 
 looking to the propensities of the pair — the 
 elder being addicted to horses, and the
 
 OF OXFORD. 257 
 
 younger to agricultural pursuits — nicknamed 
 them Horse-Leech and Cow-Leech, and by 
 those names, degrading as they appeared at 
 first, they were ever after known. It was 
 some little time before they knew of the 
 method by which they were distinguished ; 
 and when they were informed of it by what 
 Sheridan calls a " d — d good-natured friend," 
 they were a little indignant, and felt inclined 
 to resent the affront ; but their good nature 
 got the better of their resentment, and they 
 burst out laughing, declaring the notion was 
 not a bad one, and that they would pardon 
 the impudence of their nicknamer, " for the 
 fun of the thing." 
 
 We all of us have our little peculiarities, 
 and no wonder, therefore, that the Leeches 
 had theirs. Horatio, or Horse-Leech, as I 
 have said, was very fond of horses ; but, 
 although he was almost always with his own 
 horses, or viewing the steeds of other men, 
 he was not one of that kind of men who 
 spend their lives in a stable, and in converse 
 with grooms and hack-men. He was never 
 seen sitting on a corn-bin, smoking cigars and
 
 258 GREAT TOM 
 
 drinking beer with the helpers ; nor was he 
 the familiar associate of coachmen and post- 
 boys. He admired a good team of horses as 
 much as any one, and felt a great respect for 
 a man who could drive them as they should 
 be driven ; and although he preferred the 
 box-seat upon a coach, and ever and anon 
 handled the ribbons, and discoursed on the 
 qualities of the leaders and wheelers, and 
 even entertained the driver with a glass or 
 two of sherry on a journey, he never forgot 
 that he was a gentleman, and the man by nis 
 side, though a skilful driver, nothing but a 
 mere driver — waggoner, is, I believe, the 
 more fashionable name. 
 
 He never dealt with a dealer himself ; but, 
 when he had inspected his stables, and de- 
 manded the price of any nag that took his 
 fancy, he entered his name and colour, with 
 his price, in his pocket-book, and left it to 
 his groom to complete or resign the purchase 
 of it. So cool, indeed, was his manner to- 
 wards the impudent set who were accustomed 
 to treat many gentlemen as their equals, and 
 who really felt it a kind of compliment to be
 
 OF OXFORD. 259 
 
 looked upon in that light, that he was known 
 in all the best stable-yards in Oxford by the 
 title of " the reserved swell, as could only 
 purchase by proxy." His judgment, how- 
 ever, was so good, and his liberality so 
 notorious, that his appearance after a horse- 
 fair was always hailed with pleasure. 
 
 The peculiar pursuit of the younger bro- 
 ther, Cow-Leech, was, as I have said, agricul- 
 ture. He was almost mad on the subject. 
 He would ride miles to see a ploughing- 
 match or a cattle-show, and looked upon the 
 best ploughman and the best fatter of beasts 
 upon the paternal estate as somebody whose 
 acquaintance was worth cultivating. When 
 at home, he was up with that early riser the 
 lark, and was seldom seen within doors during 
 the day. His old pony, with a sort of wallet 
 slung to his saddle-flaps, might be seen tied 
 to a gate, or wandering ;ind plucking the 
 herbage at his leisure in some green lane, 
 while its master was tossing the grass about 
 in the hay season, or helping to pitch corn in 
 the harvest-time, with a crowd of labourers 
 round him, chatting freely with him, and
 
 260 GREAT TOM 
 
 laughing at his " quips and cranks," merry 
 jokes, and comic stories, as if they were not 
 mere serfs of the soil. Yet Cicero was the 
 master and gentleman with them. He never 
 heard a rude remark, a vulgar expression, or 
 an oath uttered in his presence. Every la- 
 bourer felt that he was in the presence of a 
 superior as well as a friend. They toiled 
 harder than they would have done for any 
 other master, and sought no extra reward for 
 their exertions, but his approbation, and an 
 occasional supply from the well-filled casks 
 of the Grange cellars, when they had earned 
 the indulgence by a day of excessive toil. 
 They were paid no more wages than they 
 would have been paid by a ren ting-farmer, 
 though they worked much harder ; and yet, 
 out of the numerous ricks and corn-stacks 
 that stood on the various farms upon Colyton 
 Grange, not one had ever been fired, although 
 some of the neighbouring farms had not 
 escaped the visits of incendiaries. 
 
 The old Squire was rather a curious cha- 
 racter. He had been an Eaton boy and an 
 Oxford man. At school he was notorious
 
 OF OXFORD. 261 
 
 for an inability to do a copy of Latin 
 verses without filling up a long line, if he 
 wanted an ending to it, with Proli ! Jupiter 
 inquit. As he introduced this, his favourite 
 phrase, into sacred as well as profane subjects, 
 it got him into several birchical scrapes, and 
 procured him the sobriquet of Jupiter Leech, 
 which, of course, adhered to him after he en- 
 tered at Oxford. 
 
 At the University, from his ill-success, pro- 
 bably at school, he felt no ambition to shine 
 as a classical constellation. He hated the 
 classics, if the truth must be told, and, in 
 order to amuse himself, began to cultivate 
 the science of natural philosophy. Great 
 was the dismay of the learned professor of 
 that science, when he issued his terminal no- 
 tice of a lecture, and found it answered by a 
 would-be pupil. His office had hitherto been 
 a sinecure, but now he must read up and 
 give a lecture. He wisely selected the most 
 abstruse subject he could think of, and treated 
 it still more abstrusely. The ruse had the 
 desired effect. The pupil was so utterly 
 confounded by the string of long and hard
 
 262 GREAT TOM 
 
 words with which the lecture was loaded, 
 that he begged leave to withdraw his name 
 from the class ; — he had no taste for the 
 pursuit of knowledge, under difficulties so 
 great as were placed before him by the eru- 
 dite lecturer, but contented himself with 
 reading and experimentalizing in his own 
 rooms, greatly to the detriment of the furni- 
 ture, which was not improved by the apart- 
 ment being converted into a laboratory. He 
 wrote several very elaborate treatises on 
 pneumatics, electricity, chemistry, and galva- 
 nism — for he did not confine himself to any 
 particular branch of science — and sent them 
 to the best conducted journals of the day : 
 but whether he wrote badly or did not throw 
 any fresh light upon his subject, or was too 
 little known in scientific circles to insure a 
 reception, I cannot say ; I can only assert, 
 that of his numerous contributions, not one 
 appeared in print until he condescended to 
 send a paper to a newly-born, cheap, weekly 
 chronicle, treating on " science made easy to 
 the meanest capacities ;" wherein he learnedly 
 discussed " the causes of the appearance of
 
 OF OXFORD. 263 
 
 duck-weed on the surface of ponds and 
 ditches." 
 
 So delighted was the Squire with the kind- 
 ness of the editor in inserting this article, 
 and so pleased at seeing himself in Bourgeois 
 type, that he bought 100 copies of No. 1., 
 and went to a great expense in sending them 
 off by post to all his acquaintances ; and a 
 great deal of trouble in writing letters to 
 assure them that the paper signed Investiga- 
 tor was his. Even in after-life, a copy of 
 this No. 1. always occupied a conspicuous 
 place on the book-table, and any one who 
 wished to be invited to stop and dine at 
 Colyton Grange had only to take it up and 
 appear to be absorbed by the paper signed 
 Investigator, to ensure his wishes being 
 fulfilled. 
 
 The Squire did not go up for a degree, or 
 even for his responsions, but, as his father 
 died early, he left college, married a neigh- 
 bouring lady, and settled down quietly at 
 the Grange, where he would have pursued 
 practically those studies which his lady, 
 dreading the effects of acids and alkalies upon
 
 264 GREAT TOM 
 
 carpets and curtains, and fumes of gases on 
 her husband's constitution, compelled him to 
 attend to only in theory. He amused himself 
 very harmlessly, in keeping tables of the 
 weather; the rises and falls of thermometer 
 and barometer ; wrote several profound trea- 
 tises on meteorology, which were not inserted 
 in the journals to which they were sent, and 
 spent all his leisure time in trying to get him- 
 self made a fellow of some scientific society ; 
 but, as he went to work to effect his object 
 in a straightforward way, he did not succeed. 
 
 As he was a good master, a kind neighbour, 
 and never acted as a justice of the peace, 
 although he was enrolled in the list of his 
 county, he was very much beloved ; and, in 
 spite of his eccentricities and very prosy lec- 
 tures after dinner, Colyton Grange was seldom 
 without a succession of visiters. 
 
 The Squiress was a placid, calm, country 
 lady, who had acted the hospitable hostess 
 and the Lady Bountiful to the satisfaction of 
 high and low, rich and poor ; and, as long as 
 every thing was neat and tidy about her, and 
 her servants were attentive to their duties,
 
 OF OXFORD. 265 
 
 and cleanly in their habits and personal ap- 
 pearance, and the poor, who were the objects 
 of her benevolence, were respectful in their 
 demeanour and attended their parish church 
 regularly, cared not a dump for what was 
 going on in the other parts of the world. 
 Her family was reduced by deaths, at different 
 periods, to the two boys, Horatio and 
 Cicero ; and, of course, she believed them to 
 be the very models of adolescency. 
 
 There was another member of the family 
 whom I must introduce, as he will appear 
 upon my stage hereafter. This was a brother 
 of the Squire's, known to every body in the 
 Grange, and without it, as Uncle Tom. No 
 one ever spoke of him or called him by any 
 other name. If he had been saluted as Mr. 
 Thomas Leech, I doubt whether he would 
 have known if he were the person addressed. 
 
 He was an odd-looking man, for his mouth 
 was a little out of the horizontal, and he 
 squinted with one eye, which did not turn 
 inwardly over his nose, but outwardly over 
 his right shoulder. He was conscious of this 
 defect in the arrangement of his optics, 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 GREAT TOM 
 
 and to hide it he had a trick, if he was 
 speaking to any one, of throwing his head 
 over his right shoulder, the side on which 
 the queer eye was situated, and looking with 
 the one good eye at the person whom he ad- 
 dressed. 
 
 He had been brought up at Eton with his 
 brother, but refused to go to college, as he 
 preferred staying at home and looking over 
 the farms, and more especially the garden, of 
 which he was very fond, and really understood 
 the cultivation. He had his peculiarity, and 
 it was this, — he could not bear the presence 
 of any woman, except his sister-in-law. It 
 was said that he had made violent love to a 
 lady in his early days, and had been jilted by 
 her for a recruiting-sergeant, who, like Mr. 
 Patrick Carey, had the outward essentials of 
 manhood more fully developed than Uncle 
 Tom, who was slight and slender, and rather 
 effeminate in appearance. This feeling caused 
 him to absent himself from his brother's table 
 whenever female visiters were at the Grange, 
 and as that occurred frequently he was rarely 
 a guest at the dinner-table.
 
 OF OXFORD. 267 
 
 Uncle Tom was of great service to his 
 philosophic brother ; for, when the boys were 
 away from home, he took upon himself the 
 management of the stud, and the overlooking 
 of the farms, and received all the rents, and 
 paid all the bills. This, too, he did in so 
 business-like a way that no lawyer was needed 
 to manage affairs at Colyton Grange. He had 
 a fortune independent of his brother, which 
 he nursed with the greatest care, meaning to 
 bestow it in equal portions on his nephews 
 at his decease, provided they married parties 
 whom he might deem eligible partners, and 
 not likely to jilt them. 
 
 Having thus introduced some of my chief 
 dramatis personce as briefly as I well could, 
 to make the little events I am about to record 
 understandable, you will oblige me by fancying 
 yourself in the breakfast-parlour at Colyton 
 Grange, on the morning of a very fine day in 
 the beginning of June. 
 
 The Squire and his lady are vis-d-vis, and 
 Uncle Tom between them in his usual fustian 
 shooting-coat, cord-shorts, and long leather 
 gaiters. Two ladies are visiting at the Grange, 
 
 N L Z
 
 268 GREAT TOM 
 
 but, as Uncle Tom knows that they have their 
 coffee and rolls taken up to them in their 
 dressing-rooms, he has ventured in to break- 
 fast. In the midst of the repast, the letter- 
 bag is brought in, and the Squire, with great 
 ceremony, selects a key from the bunch of 
 seals, rings, and keys attached to his watch- 
 chain, and opens it ; he performs the opera- 
 tion rather nervously, for he hopes that it 
 may contain an announcement that he has 
 been elected an F. R.S., or that his paper 
 " On the Prevalence of Gossamers in Nut- 
 tree Covers in the Months of September and 
 October" has been accepted by the scientific 
 periodical to which he has sent it for the fifth 
 time. Uncle Tom, who never expects a letter 
 from any body, goes on quietly with his 
 rasher, and Mrs. Leech amuses herself by 
 looking at her list, to see to what number of 
 poor widows, bed-ridden old men, and young 
 labourers' wives in interesting conditions, she 
 is to send those little comforts which make 
 life something more than bearable. 
 
 " Bless me ! it's very odd ! unaccountably 
 so ! No letter from the society ! no notice of
 
 OF OXFORD. 269 
 
 my paper !" said the Squire, laying a letter, 
 a note, and a newspaper aside, as if valueless. 
 
 " You've said so every day for these twelve 
 years," said Uncle Tom, looking at his sister- 
 an-law, but looking as if he was looking at 
 her husband. 
 
 " Never mind, my dear, leave the F.R.S/s 
 to themselves ; and as to your paper, write 
 another, it will amuse you, and do quite as 
 much good as if it were printed," said the 
 lady. 
 
 " It's very odd ! unaccountably odd, inarm ! 
 that vou have made that same observation 
 every morning for many years — vary it, 
 marm, vary it," said the Squire, slowly re- 
 moving his spectacles, pulling his chair up to 
 the table, and going on with his meal. 
 
 41 That's a hand I ought to know," said 
 Uncle Tom, putting the letter upon the point 
 of his right shoulder to get a clear view of 
 the direction. " Why, it is from Horatio, 
 and bears the Oxford postmark." 
 
 " Give it to me, Tommy, give it to me," 
 gaid the lady. " The dear boy ! how clear 
 he writes !"
 
 270 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Only a little request for money, to pay 
 off the terminal ticks, I'll be bound," said the 
 Squire ; " but read it, marra, read it ; it's 
 very odd, unaccountably odd, that you women 
 never will open a letter until you have read 
 the direction ten times over, and examined it, 
 from the seal to the postmark, as if you had 
 never seen them before." 
 
 Mrs. Leech did what her husband called so 
 " unaccountably odd " very deliberately, and 
 then still more deliberately went to her work- 
 table and looked for a pair of scissors to cut 
 the paper round the seal, for fear of tearing 
 away some valuable portion of the written in- 
 terior ; Uncle Tom eyeing her all the while, 
 although he seemed to be looking in a con- 
 trary direction. 
 
 " It is very odd, unaccountably odd, that 
 you will not read that letter aloud, marm." 
 
 " Oh, it is merely to say they break up — " 
 
 " Go dow?i, marm ; they never break-up 
 after they leave school." 
 
 "Well, go down on the 15th — that they 
 want you to send a cheque for £250, and 
 that they are to have a grand Commemoration
 
 OF OXFORD. 271 
 
 this year, and a great many grand folks are 
 to be honoured with degrees. There is a list 
 of names, but I don't know any of them ; and 
 then there is a lot of inquiries about the colts 
 and fillies from Horatio; and a postscript 
 from Cicero, full of questions about the crops, 
 the wool, and the next ploughing-match — 
 that is all." 
 
 " It's very odd, unaccountably odd, marm, 
 that you cannot either read my boy's letter 
 yourself, or let me read it," said the Squire. 
 
 " Or me, marm," said Uncle Tom ; " you 
 know / must answer it." 
 
 " Well, there it is ; read it while I go and 
 see that old Richard has the village basket 
 properly rilled," said the lady, handing the 
 letter to her husband, who had it quietly 
 taken out of his hand by Uncle Tommy before 
 she could make her exit. 
 
 Uncle Tommy put the letter upon his right 
 shoulder and read it aloud. There was no- 
 thing in it that had not been alluded to in the 
 brief summary of its contents by the Squiress; 
 but a name had reached the Squire's ear, when 
 the list of those who were to have honorary
 
 272 GREAT TOM 
 
 degrees conferred upon them was read, that 
 engaged his most serious attention. 
 
 " It is very odd, unaccountably odd ; but 
 I think, Tommy, you said that the Baron Von 
 Inkstandhausen of Heidelberg is to receive an 
 honorary D.C.L?" 
 
 " To be sure — who is he ?" 
 
 " It is very odd, unaccountably odd, how 
 very ignorant you are, brother Tom, on sub- 
 jects connected with science ! The Baron 
 Von Inkstandhausen is a great natural philo- 
 sopher, and has made his name illustrious 
 from discovering the anatomical cause of the 
 wonderful agility and powers of jumping pos- 
 sessed by that curious little insect the flea." 
 
 " What, is he the man who goes about with 
 the industrious fleas?" asked Uncle Tom. 
 
 " Very odd, unaccountably odd ! Such 
 ignorance ! but then it's excusable in a man 
 who despises science, and sticks to the stable 
 and the farmyard. The Baron Von Ink- 
 standhausen is a man whose acquaintance I, 
 in common with all scientific men, would give 
 worlds to obtain." 
 
 " Then why do you not go up to Oxford
 
 OF OXFORD. 273 
 
 and get introduced to him ? I dare say he 
 would give you his most intimate friendship 
 for a jrood dinner and the run of the wine- 
 bin ; you can take a jar of pickled cabbage 
 in your pocket, and call it sanr-kraict, and if 
 that don't clench your acquaintance with him 
 I do not know what will." 
 
 The Squire frowned at Uncle Tom, and 
 said it was unaccountably odd that he should 
 entertain such degrading ideas of a German 
 philosopher. He added, much to Uncle Tom's 
 surprise, that he should take his advice for 
 once, and go up to Oxford for the purpose of 
 renewing his acquaintance with some old 
 friends, and being properly introduced by the 
 Professor of Chemistry to the Baron Von 
 Inkstandhausen. 
 
 " Then I must go with you," said Uncle 
 Tom ; " for you know so little of what you 
 call mere mundane affairs, that you will be 
 cheated by every postboy and turnpike-keeper 
 on the road." 
 
 " Go with me ! of course you will. Do 
 you think I could travel without you ? It is 
 very odd, unaccountably odd, that you should 
 
 n 5
 
 274 GREAT TOM 
 
 dream of such a thing ! We will post up ; so 
 order the chariot and everything to be ready 
 by the 13th. I must prepare a few things to 
 take up with me, to amuse the boys and their 
 friends." 
 
 Uncle Tom slewed his eye round over his 
 shoulder, and threw a look of iuquiry into it ; 
 but, as he seemed to be looking at the pea- 
 cock on the terrace wall, the Squire did not 
 reply to it, but retired to his study to com- 
 mence his preparations. Mrs. Leech, who, in 
 spite of her husband's complaint, that " it 
 was very odd, unaccountably odd, that she 
 would interrupt him in his studies," went into 
 the room every hour to see that he was not 
 mixing acids and alkalies, analyzing earths, 
 and making combustibles, wondered what he 
 was about to do with several queer-looking 
 machines, the names and uses of which she 
 knew not, and which he was diligently en- 
 gaged in packing into as small a space as pos- 
 sible. When she heard that he was going up 
 to Oxford to the Commemoration, she thought 
 that he was going to sell some of his useless 
 machinery to some erudite individuals in that
 
 OF OXFORD. 275 
 
 learned University who would be able to turn 
 them to a better account than he had done, 
 and was highly pleased ; so she did not inter- 
 rupt him any more, but amused herself with 
 seeing that everything he would want, and 
 many things that he would not want, were 
 properly prepared for the journey. 
 
 Uncle Tom considerately thought that the 
 boys would like to be apprised of their fa- 
 ther's intention of paying them a visit, as he 
 knew that many little arrangements would 
 require to be made in their rooms, to render 
 them in a fit state to be visited by the go- 
 vernor ; he therefore sat down, and in a very 
 odd position, for he was obliged to look side- 
 ways at the paper before him, much as a 
 duck does when he is eyeing a worm at the 
 bottom of a deep ditch. He wrote the fol- 
 lowing characteristic letter, in which he en- 
 closed a cheque for £'300 : — 
 
 " Colyton Grange, June 10th. 
 " My dear Boys, 
 
 " Brother and I dine with you on the 
 13th, at half-past 5 precise. Mother stays at
 
 276 GREAT TOM 
 
 home. Procure beds handy, and not at an 
 inn, as they are apt to be one-horse-chaisey ! 
 Hem! You know what I mean — hate bugs 
 and humbugs. Enclosed is cheque for .£300. 
 No ticks or antics while the governor is in 
 view, eh ? Horatio, all the horses are well, 
 and the fillies and colts going on famously. 
 Cicero, the wheats are in bloom, the beans in 
 pod, and the pease fit for hacking. The clo- 
 vers run short, but the stock are all well, 
 and so are the labourers. More, both of you, 
 when we meet. 
 
 " Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 " Tom. 
 " PS. Brother is packing up some of his 
 queer traps, to astonish a Baron — Von Ink- 
 standhausen by name. If you know him, ask 
 him to dinner, and be sure give him some 
 pickled cabbage — he's a German." 
 
 Having completed and sealed this epistle, 
 Uncle Tom set about ordering the chariot 
 and post-horses to be ready early on the 
 morning of the 13th, and then went round 
 the stables and farms, to give such directions
 
 OF OXFORD. 277 
 
 as he thought would ensure the comforts of 
 the animals, and the proper progress in 
 farming operations during his short absence. 
 
 The Oxford brothers were breakfasting 
 together in the rooms of the elder, Horatio, 
 and were violently engaged in getting up a 
 Greek play for their collections, amidst coffee, 
 rolls, and strawberries, when the letter from 
 Uncle Tom arrived. Horatio laughed heartily 
 when he had read it, and handed it to his 
 brother, who joined him in the laugh at first, 
 and then suddenly stopped and looked serious 
 
 " The idea of the Governor and Uncle Tom. 
 coining up !" said Horatio. 
 
 " And the notion of asking an unknown 
 German quack to dinner, and entertaining 
 him with pickled cabbage ! " said Cicero. 
 " Can't we put them off? for you know that 
 we have invited a lot of men — the racing 
 crew, and the crew of the Torpids, to supper 
 on the 13th." 
 
 " No ; it will not do. Besides, what does 
 it matter? Uncle Tom is a regular brick,
 
 2 78 GREAT TOM 
 
 and will enjoy the fun, and I do not think 
 that the governor will dislike it. We will 
 get the German, if he is presentable, and can 
 find any one to introduce us to him. He, I 
 hope, will not find fault with the hock." 
 
 " If he does not like it, he can send us 
 over an aume, if he pleases, ready for his 
 next visit," said Cicero ; "but it strikes me 
 that it will be as well to send for the up- 
 holsterer to put our rooms a little in order 
 before the arrival of papa, eh ?" 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! He knows what college 
 is, and I see nothing he can object to or com- 
 plain about here." 
 
 " Why, I do not think a sofa with a loose 
 back and three legs, or a reading-chair with 
 one arm amputated, and a set of rickety 
 dining-tables, at all desirable ; and I do think 
 that if the meerschaums, boxing-gloves, tan- 
 dem-whips and bridles, were taken down 
 from their nails, the rooms would look a little 
 less like a pawnbroker's shop," said Cicero. 
 
 " Yes, true enough ; and Uncle Tom would 
 rather be displeased than not at the sight of 
 your collection of operatic and theatrical
 
 OF OXFORD. 279 
 
 female favourites ; so you must down with 
 them, and replace them with something 
 wherewith his modesty will not be shocked." 
 
 "• And that Venus must be dressed or dis- 
 carded, that is very certain, and Mistress 
 Psyche would look all the better if she were 
 clad in a decent garb ; but we will send for 
 old Scraper the furniture-man, and give hirn 
 orders to settle the rooms soberly and snugly. 
 Now let us knock off the last five hundred 
 lines of Madame Medea, and then go and get 
 lodgings for our visitors." 
 
 The play was finished, and the lodgings — 
 two good bedrooms at Adams's, the bootman, 
 opposite my tower — engaged before twelve 
 o'clock. The cook was ordered to prepare a 
 good dinner in their rooms on the 13th, for 
 which leave was easilv obtained from the 
 Dean, when the visit of Leech pere, with his 
 brother, was made known to him. As both 
 the Squire and Uncle Tom were fond of port 
 wine, the afternoon was pleasantly spent in 
 tasting the best that Syms and all the other 
 wine-merchants could produce. 
 
 Now tasting wine in hot weather is very
 
 280 GREAT TOM 
 
 agreeable, but rather dangerous, as, instead 
 of performing the operation in the scientific 
 method adopted by the trade, the thirst occa- 
 sioned by the thermometer at 80° is apt to 
 induce one to swallow the contents of the 
 glasses submitted to us for our approbation. 
 The brothers, who were generally very mo- 
 derate in their potations, were the least in 
 the world overcome by the number of wines 
 they had tasted ; and when they had decided 
 upon the style of wine best suited to the Go- 
 vernor's taste — full-flavoured, oleaginous, yet 
 leaving a delicious roughness upon the palate 
 instead of the nauseating sugar-sweetness 
 which spoils the ports of modern days — they 
 issued from the cellars with rather unsteady 
 steps and flushed countenances. 
 
 " We are too late for hall-dinner, per 
 Jovem /" said Horatio, looking up at Carfax 
 clock. 
 
 " So we are. Well, never mind," said 
 Cicero ; " let us have a lamb-chop at the 
 Star ; the cook there has a proper notion of 
 his art." 
 
 A few minutes found them in the coffee-
 
 OF OXFORD. 281 
 
 room of that, then, well-frequented hotel. 
 Several men we're dining there ; but the mo- 
 ment they had eaten their chops they took 
 up their caps and gowns, and went off to some 
 friend's rooms to wine. 
 
 When Horatio and Cicero Leech had finished 
 their cheese, and ordered a bottle of cool 
 claret, there was but one individual besides 
 themselves left in the room ; and a very odd- 
 looking individual he was. He wore a 
 lanky, yellow-tinged pair of mustachoes, with 
 whiskers completely covering his chin, to 
 correspond ; his hair was parted in the centre, 
 and combed down straight over the collar of 
 his coat; his deeply-seated blue eyes were 
 covered with a large pair of tortoiseshell- 
 mounted spectacles, and his nose was be- 
 grimed with yellow snuff, which he was 
 perpetually employed in taking from a large 
 jewelled silver box. He was dressed in long- 
 waisted, dark-green frock-coat, drab trousers, 
 and very square-toed boots. He had finished 
 his dinner, and was sipping some Rhenish 
 wine. By his side lay a large handsome 
 ecume-de-mer pipe, and a bladder containing
 
 282 GREAT TOM 
 
 tobacco, which he had pushed on one side 
 when the waiter assured him that no smok- 
 ing was allowed in the coffee-room. 
 
 " What a guy ! " said Horatio, not quite 
 sotto voce. 
 
 " A regular quiz, et nullus error ! '' said 
 Cicero. 
 
 " Let us drink to his very particular salu- 
 brity. He is a foreigner, and don't under- 
 stand English, I dare say, so we ought to be 
 civil to him. Here goes, old fellow ! — here's 
 to all friends over the Herring Pond," said 
 Horatio. 
 
 " Your jolly health, old gentleman ! " added 
 Cicero. 
 
 Now, as both of them, in tossing off their 
 bumpers, did so in a peculiar way, although 
 they were not aware of it, the stranger smiled 
 a joyous smile, filled his tumbler — for he 
 despised a diminutive wine-glass — and made 
 the same sort of motion with his hand ere he 
 emptied it. He then left his seat, brought 
 his bottle and tumbler with him, and, placing 
 himself at the brothers' table, seized their 
 right hands successively, and gave them such
 
 OF OXFORD. 283 
 
 a severe grip as made them glad when the 
 operation was over. 
 
 " I am delight to find two proders ; we 
 shall unite and enjoy ourselfs more as if we 
 was strangers," said the foreigner. 
 
 " How the deuce could he know we were 
 brothers?" whispered Horatio. 
 
 " By a family likeness, I suppose. But let 
 us draw him out, and get some fun out of 
 him," said Cicero. 
 
 " Beautiful box that, sir," said Horatio. 
 
 " Ya, ya, yash, de pox is a peautiful pox, 
 and was given to me by my var good vriend 
 de Brince, when I bresented to him a copy of 
 ma pook." 
 
 " Oh, you're an author, are you ?" asked 
 Cicero. 
 
 " Ya, ya, yash ; I have bublish mosh." 
 
 " On what subject, may I ask ?" 
 
 " Oh, I write mosh — vare mosh ; put brin- 
 cipally on de insect and de worm — what you 
 shall call de natural history," said the 
 stranger. 
 
 " I say, Cicero, I'll venture a pony that
 
 284 GREAT TOM 
 
 this is the very German whom the Governor 
 is coming up to be introduced to." 
 
 " Gad ! if so, we're in luck. Sound him !" 
 
 " Sound him ! I'll ask him at once. Have 
 I the honour of speaking to the Baron — ?" 
 
 " Ya, ya, yash, I am de Paron, ma young 
 vriends and proders." 
 
 " The Baron Von Inkstandhausen ?" said 
 Cicero. 
 
 " What is dat ? Bronounce him again." 
 
 " The Baron Von Inkstandhausen," said 
 Horatio, slowly and plainly. 
 
 " Ya, ya, yash ; dat is how I am call ; put 
 you bronounce him so English-like, I not 
 know him at virst." 
 
 " My dear sir, I am delighted to see you. 
 My father, Mr. Leech of Colyton Grange, in 
 Northamptonshire, is coming up to-morrow 
 on purpose to make your acquaintance. He 
 is fond of science, thinks himself a great 
 natural philosopher, and has written a great 
 deal on the subject, though he has only pub- 
 lished one paper — ' On the Cause of Duck- 
 weed in Ponds and Ditches.' Did you ever 
 meet with it ? "
 
 OF OXFORD. 285 
 
 " Ma dare young- vriend, I nevare travel 
 vvidout it, it is so vare clevare," said the 
 Baron, taking a larger pinch than usual. " I 
 shall raosh like to be known to your Bappa." 
 
 " Well, then, you must come and dine 
 with him at my rooms to-morrow, at half- 
 past five," said Horatio, handing the Baron 
 his card. 
 
 " Come and breakfast, and spend the day," 
 said Cicero. " We'll lionize you !" 
 
 " Ma coot vriends, you overbower me. Put 
 I nevare preak ma fast — nevare ; I only take 
 <le bipe and de coffee in ma ped. I will have 
 great Measure in making de acquaintance of 
 your excellent bappa at de dinner," said the 
 Baron. " And now, as we are broders, I 
 shall order some wine of a petter quality, and 
 we shall drink at mine exbense." 
 
 The Baron rang the bell, and ordered in 
 half a dozen of Rudesheimer in ice, and the 
 party spent a most agreeable evening ; the 
 young men assuring one another, as they went 
 to their rooms, not at all the worse for the 
 cool light wine they had been drinking, that 
 they had never met with a more agreeable
 
 286 GREAT TOM 
 
 and accomplished man than the Baron in their 
 lives. 
 
 " Very gentlemanly, too, of him to pay for 
 the wine," said Cicero — " very indeed !" 
 
 Precisely at a quarter past five on the 
 Tuesday, the day before the Commemoration, 
 amidst the number of carriages that arrived 
 in Oxford, the chariot from Colyton Grange 
 might have been seen pulling up at my tower 
 gateway. Cicero was standing ready to re- 
 ceive his father and uncle, while Horatio was 
 busily employed in decanting the wine. A few 
 minutes sufficed for the Squire and Uncle 
 Tom to dress for dinner ; and as soon as they 
 had reached the young men's rooms, the 
 Baron Von Inkstandhausen arrived, very su- 
 perbly dressed, and was introduced in due 
 form to Squire Leech, who nervously grasped 
 his hand, and expressed himself as too highly 
 honoured by the condescension of so great a 
 man. Uncle Tom threw a look at the Baron 
 over his right shoulder, and whispered to 
 Horatio that " he wanted trimming about the 
 muzzle, and that his mane would be none the 
 worse for being pulled and combed."
 
 OF OXFORD. 287 
 
 The dinner was excellent, and every one 
 did justice to it ; but no one came near the 
 Baron, who, although there was no pickled 
 cabbage provided, ate enormously, and apolo- 
 gized for it by saying, " he had noting all 
 day pefore put his bipes." 
 
 When the wine and dessert were placed on 
 the table, and the servants had retired, the 
 Squire filled a bumper, and proposed — " The 
 scientific world ; more particularly the gen- 
 tleman who had honoured them with his 
 company that day." It was drunk with en- 
 thusiasm by all, and in iisdem verbis, except 
 by Uncle Tom, who had a bad memory for 
 words, and took off his bumper to " the afore- 
 said." 
 
 The Baron bowed, with his right hand, co- 
 vered with rings and rather dirty about the 
 nails, upon his left breast, and, seizing upon 
 a tumbler, which was placed near the water- 
 jug in the centre of the table, filled it to the 
 brim ; then, acknowledging the compliment 
 that had been paid him, briefly but grate- 
 fully drained his goblet at a draught, and sat
 
 288 GREAT TOM 
 
 down, saying, " that the borts was cool wines, 
 but sboiled de plood." 
 
 Horatio took the hint, and placed some 
 claret near his guest, with another tumbler, 
 which was speedily filled and emptied to the 
 health of the Squire, who, in returning thanks, 
 went through the rise and progress of the 
 science of natural philosophy ab ovo usque ad 
 mala, and ended his long oration by again 
 expressing his delight at forming the acquaint- 
 ance of a man upon whom the eyes of every 
 scientific person were turned with admiration. 
 
 The Baron smiled and bowed ; but, catch- 
 ing Uncle Tom's queer eye turned upon him, 
 not very scientifically, burst into a loud 
 laugh, in which the brothers, when they 
 caught the cause of it, could not refrain from 
 joining. 
 
 " As dere is no lady, and dis is de brivate 
 rooms, I will make pold and light ma bipe," 
 said the Baron, extracting his meerschaum 
 and tobacco-bag from his coat-pocket, and 
 proceeding composedly to strike a light with 
 flint, steel, and German tinder.
 
 OF OXFORD. 289 
 
 Now the poor Squire had a great aversion 
 to the fumes of tobacco at all times, but 
 especially when he was drinking- his port 
 wine. But what could he do? He could 
 not interfere with the enjoyments of the 
 greatest natural philosopher of his day, one 
 who was about to be presented with an hono- 
 rary D.C.L. on the morrow. He submitted, 
 with a bad grace however, much to Uncle 
 Tom's amusement, who looked at the Baron, 
 and winked ; but, as his eye was directed to a 
 corner book-shelf, that learned foreigner did 
 not think it was intended for him, so he did 
 not return it. 
 
 The Squire proposed many toasts, and 
 made many remarks which he thought calcu- 
 lated to draw his son's guest into a philosophic 
 discussion ; but he was deceived, for the Baron 
 merely bowed, and drank, and smoked his 
 pipe, seldom making a remark, beyond " a 
 peautiful pottle and peautiful topacco !" 
 
 This was very vexing ; and, in order to 
 ensure a display of the Baron's learning, the 
 Squire put a direct question to him, which 
 ought to have elicited a learned disquisition 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 290 GREAT TOM 
 
 on some peculiarly difficult point, which agi- 
 tated the erudite minds of all natural philo- 
 sophers at that particular time. 
 
 " Ma var dear sar," said the Baron, rolling 
 out a volume of smoke, " pusiness is pusiness, 
 and Measure is bleasure : Measure to-day — 
 pusiness to-morrow." Nor would he say 
 another word ; so that the Squire did all the 
 loud talking, while Uncle Tom held a whis- 
 pered conversation about the horses and colts 
 with Horatio, and about turnips and swedes 
 with Cicero. 
 
 " My dear father," said Horatio, when the 
 time for coffee arrived, " I know you will 
 excuse our leaving you over your coffee with 
 the Baron. The fact is, wehad invited the boat's 
 crew to sup with us to-night before we got 
 your letter, so we could not put them off, but 
 have ordered supper in another man's rooms." 
 
 " Uncle Tom will join us," said Cicero ; 
 " and you and the Baron can do a little bit 
 of philosophy." 
 
 " Mosh opliged," said the Baron ; " put I 
 would rather do a pit of subber." 
 
 " And I," said the Squire, " should like to
 
 OF OXFORD. 291 
 
 join your young friends, and see them all en- 
 joying themselves." 
 
 " Hurrah !" said Horatio. " Come along, 
 Governor, and let us be jolly !" 
 
 " Come along, Baron," said Uncle Tom. 
 " You are not a bad fellow for a foreigner ; you 
 can be jolly." 
 
 " Ah, ah ! you have de eye — what an eye 
 — for de caractare — de phizionomy, eh !" 
 
 Uncle Tom felt inclined to knock the Baron 
 down, but he looked so innocent, that Tom 
 thought, after all, he could not have meant 
 the allusion to his divergent eye as an insult. 
 
 When they reached the supper-rooms, they 
 found about eighteen men ready assembled, to 
 whom Horatio introduced his father and 
 Cicero, his uncle and the Baron. The unex- 
 pected addition of three " old stagers " threw 
 a little damp cloud over the party at first ; 
 but it was soon dissipated when the Squire, 
 who was a little affected by his wine and the 
 great deal of talking he had done, cut several 
 very good jokes, and Uncle Tom and the Baron 
 invited everybody to take wine with them. 
 They were soon " hail, fellow ! well met !" 
 
 o 2
 
 292 GREAT TOM 
 
 The Baron, although he had eaten enough 
 for three at dinner, did great execution on 
 the " proiled pones," and finished off with a 
 large plate of dressed crab. As soon as he had 
 washed down his last plate with some " prown 
 peer," as he called the " pottled borter," he 
 lighted up his " bipe" again, and smoked 
 away as calmly as if he had known all the 
 party all his life. 
 
 The Squire and Uncle Tom stopped until 
 the supper was removed and the punch and 
 other liquids placed on the table ; they then 
 withdrew, wisely thinking that they should 
 operate as skids on the wheels of joviality. 
 
 The Baron said " he should stay and finish 
 his bipe and taste de bonch ; he was vare 
 fond of de bonch, put he should speak a 
 word with his coot vrend de Squire in brivate 
 first." 
 
 They withdrew into Horatio's bedroom, in 
 the rooms above those in which the supper- 
 party had been held. There, the Baron, 
 after apologizing for the trouble he had given 
 to his " coot vriend," informed him that a 
 remittance which he had expected was not
 
 OF OXFORD. 293 
 
 arrived, and he would be glad of the loan of 
 " twenty or dirty bounds to bay his fees with 
 on to-morrow." 
 
 The Squire, quite delighted at the oppor- 
 tunity of obliging so great a natural philo- 
 sopher, took out his pocket-book, and gave 
 him a bank-note for ^50. 
 
 The Baron shook him cordially by the 
 hand, and assured him " he would feel vare 
 habby when he saw him rebaid." 
 
 The Squire and Uncle Tom then left for 
 their lodgings, and the Baron returned to the 
 supper-rooms and resumed his pipe. After 
 listening to many songs, and drinking many 
 toasts, he was called upon, in his turn, for a 
 song or a toast. He complied by singing 
 a German student's song very well, of which 
 the chorus was 
 
 " Edite, bibite," &c, &c. 
 
 When every one had sung every song he knew, 
 and the party was getting rather slow, the 
 Baron asked his next neighbours " if they ever 
 blayed with the cards ?" He was answered affir- 
 matively, and asked to take a hand at Van John, 
 as vingt-et-un is classically called at Oxford.
 
 294 GREAT TOM 
 
 The cards were speedily produced ; and 
 whilst some of the party amused themselves 
 with their cigars, and singing and talking, a 
 table was made up at vingt-et-un. The Baron 
 lost at first, but, when the stakes were doubled, 
 and even quadrupled, his luck began to turn. 
 He won back all he had previously lost, and 
 a little more. He lost so good-naturedly, 
 and won so carelessly — smoking his " bipe," 
 and drinking his " bonch" all the while — that 
 every one was delighted with him, and he 
 received a great many invitations to break- 
 fasts, dinners, and suppers, all of which he 
 was obliged to decline, because " he had 
 promised his vare coot vriend, Mistir Squire 
 Leech, to be his guest, and live at his exbense, 
 while he remained in Oxford." 
 
 When they were nearly tired of cards, the 
 natural philosopher condescended to teach 
 them a new German game with the dice. 
 The boxes were produced, and every one in 
 the room staked a sovereign each. Every 
 one then threw three times, and was at liberty 
 to sell his own chance, or buy any other per- 
 son's : the highest thrown, or the purchaser of
 
 OF OXFORD. 995 
 
 the highest throw, to win the pool. This 
 caused a great deal of speculation and a great 
 deal of betting; and, oddly enough to the 
 Baron, who kept his hands in his pockets until 
 he threw, which he always did last, won 
 seven stakes out of eleven, besides several 
 suras by betting the odds against every caster. 
 A little hazard concluded the evening at about 
 half-past four ; and it was quite light when 
 the Baron parted with his young friends at 
 my gateway, assuring them " that their 
 bonch was coot, their bort was coot, and 
 every thing vare bleasant," and that "he 
 should nevare be aple to repay their cootness." 
 
 When Horatio and his brother had break- 
 fasted with the Squire and Uncle Tom, all the 
 party agreed to walk up to the Star, and call 
 on the great natural philosopher. 
 
 " Waiter," said Horatio, " is the Baron 
 Von Inkstandhausen up yet ?" 
 
 " Who, sir? We have no such name on 
 our list," replied he of the napkin. 
 
 " I mean the gentleman who wined with us, 
 or rather with whom we wined, — half a dozen
 
 296 GREAT TOM 
 
 of iced Rudesheimer, you know, — the day 
 before yesterday." 
 
 " Oh, I know — gent, with smellers. I'll 
 go up and see, sir." 
 
 The party sat down in the coffee-room ; 
 and William returned, and, in a whisper said, 
 " The man with the smellers has bolted with 
 a basket of master's plate, and left his trunk, 
 which we have broken open, and found full of 
 valuable — brickbats." 
 
 Here was a pretty business ! Upon inquiry, 
 it was discovered that the Baron was a London 
 pickpocket, who had come down on a specu- 
 lation. He succeeded pretty well; for, in 
 addition to the Squire's ^50, it was found 
 that he had carried off .£300 from the young 
 men whom he had so kindly taught the new 
 German game with the dice. 
 
 The Squire was greatly disgusted, but 
 Uncle Tom threw such a queer look over his 
 right shoulder at his nephews, that they burst 
 out laughing, in which, after a time, their 
 father joined. 
 
 Come, my dear father," said Horatio to 
 
 a
 
 OF OXFORD. 297 
 
 Squire Leech, as they quitted the Star Inn, 
 after the unpleasant discovery of the sham 
 Baron's real character ; " if you intend to go 
 to the University sermon at St. Mary's, you 
 must not delay. The service begins at eleven, 
 and it is already past ten." 
 
 " It is very odd, unaccountably odd," re- 
 plied the Squire of Colyton Grange, " that 
 in these days young men never speak of 
 any thing, or any event, with that accuracy 
 which, as philologists, they ought to observe." 
 
 " In what have I betrayed any inaccuracy ?" 
 inquired Horatio, not a little surprised at his 
 father's testiness. 
 
 " You called it 'the University sermon' at 
 St. Mary's, and it is not the University ser- 
 mon. The University have nothing to do 
 with it, as a University. It is the Infirmary 
 sermon, and is preached to increase the funds 
 of that most excellent institution, founded bv 
 the renowned Dr. Radcliffe." 
 
 " But, sir, the Vice-Chancellor, and all 
 the Dons, go in procession with the black- 
 beadles, and poker-bearers, and " 
 
 " Cicero, don't be vulgar. Call men and 
 
 o 5
 
 298 GREAT TOM 
 
 things by their right names," said Mr. Leech, 
 addressing his younger son, from whom the 
 remark proceeded. " If you had spent as 
 many years in the study of natural philosophy 
 as your father has, you would not have con- 
 founded a beadle with a beetle." 
 
 " I have heard both of them confounded 
 pretty heartily, sir, — the former by some of 
 our men, who do not like paying their fees, at 
 degree times, and the latter by our house- 
 keeper, when she has found them committing 
 trespasses in her jars of brown sugar." 
 
 " Gently, there, Cicero, my boy," said 
 Uncle Tom. " Your father has mounted his 
 hobby, and he does not like to have his ride 
 spoilt." 
 
 " His hobby seems rather inclined to kick 
 this morning," whispered Cicero : " we must 
 put the strap on." 
 
 " The strongest strap that ever was sewed 
 will not keep your father from kicking over 
 the traces, if he has once set to hammering. 
 Just hark ! — he's off. I thought so," replied 
 Uncle Tom, in a subdued voice. 
 
 Cicero listened, and heard his father in-
 
 OF OXFORD. 29.9 
 
 dulging in a long harangue, in which he was 
 scolding Horatio, for supposing, for an instant, 
 that he should go to the Radcliffe Infirmary 
 sermon, until he had fulfilled the principal 
 object of his journey to Oxford, by obtaining 
 an introduction, through his friend, the pro- 
 fessor of chemistry, to the veritable natural 
 philosopher, the Baron Von Inkstandhausen, 
 by whose double he had been so grossly im- 
 posed upon, and defrauded of fifty pounds, in 
 addition to having been made the laughing- 
 stock, ludibrium, of the whole philosophical 
 world, who would, he doubted not, shortly 
 be furnished with all the particulars of the 
 " new case of soft-headedness," displayed in 
 himself. 
 
 Horatio, of course, could do nothing else 
 but consent to the arrangement suggested by 
 his father, and offered to accompany him to 
 the house of the professor of chemistry at 
 once. But, no : that would not do. Leech 
 pere chose to go alone. He would have no 
 one present at their interview ; " doubtless," 
 as Uncle Tom remarked, sotto voce, throwing
 
 300 GREAT TOM 
 
 his queer eye over his right shoulder, at his 
 younger nephew, " because he was afraid that 
 in recounting the trick the sham Baron had 
 played him, the irresistible ludicrousness of 
 the whole proceeding would produce a loud 
 laugh at his expense." 
 
 The point was conceded. A proposition 
 was made that the family should all of them 
 meet in the porch of St. Mary's church, at 
 eleven o'clock ; but to that the Squire would 
 not agree. He had made up his mind to pass 
 a philosophical day with the professor of 
 natural philosophy. He would not, however, 
 injure the institution, for whose benefit the 
 sermon was to be preached, by his unavoid- 
 able absence from service, but gave Horatio a 
 five-pound note, to put into the plate. 
 
 " Well, then, sir, you will perhaps attend 
 the morning concert at three o'clock, and 
 dine in our rooms at seven ?" said Horatio. 
 
 " It is very odd, unaccountably odd, that I 
 am to be dragged every where but where I 
 wish to go," said the Squire. " You know 
 that I have a contempt for music, as a mere
 
 OF OXFORD. 301 
 
 mechanical art, without any philosophy in it. 
 Any fool can play on a fiddle or a flute." 
 
 " But, sir, all the ladies will be there — all 
 the lionesses," &c, began Cicero. 
 
 " Then let them fancy themselves she-bears, 
 and dance to the music," said the Squire. 
 
 " Give him his head," said Uncle Tom ; 
 " he's off. The only chance is to let him go 
 his own pace, until he pulls up of his own 
 accord." 
 
 " But as to dinner, sir?" said Horatio. 
 
 " At six precisely, in your rooms. As to 
 a party, I shall bring the Professor and the 
 Baron with me ; and I have a few little things 
 to exhibit, which will afford them all a rational 
 evening. Order the largest table-cloth in 
 college to be in readiness when coffee is an- 
 nounced ; and, do you hear, provide some 
 good hock, but none of your wishy-washy 
 claret." 
 
 So saying, Squire Leech left the party, and 
 turned off towards the residence of his old 
 friend the professor of chemistry. 
 
 " What can he mean by wanting a large 
 table-cloth?" inquired Cicero.
 
 302 GREAT TOM 
 
 " Probably," said Horatio, " he means to 
 give a supper en philosophe, and wishes to 
 prepare it himself?" 
 
 " Missed your leap," said Uncle Tom. " He 
 has got a large box full of all sorts of en- 
 gines, and intends to exhibit some of his 
 queer machinery for the entertainment of his 
 friends to his own satisfaction. He has never 
 been able to assemble a philosophical party 
 at the Grange since he knocked old Lady 
 Grizzelton's wig off, and dislodged her false 
 teeth by administering an over-dose of the 
 galvanic fluid." 
 
 " Absurd !" said Horatio. 
 
 " Quite ridiculous !" said Cicero. 
 
 " But not the less true," said Uncle Tom. 
 
 " And I am to ask a lot of men to dine, 
 and miss the procession of boats, merely to 
 witness tricks upon an air-pump or an elec- 
 trifying machine ?" said Horatio. 
 
 " Yes, and get known in the 'versity as 
 ' the gallanty showmen' for ;the remainder of 
 our college existence," said Cicero. 
 
 " You've hit it — laid the whip on the right 
 place," said Uncle Tom.
 
 OF OXFORD. 303 
 
 " How ?" asked both his nephews. 
 
 " He has brought one with him," replied 
 Uncle Tom, winking with his good eye, and 
 looking at the procession, which had just left 
 the schools, with the queer one. 
 
 There was not time for any further ques- 
 tioning, as crowds were hastening by them, 
 and thrusting them from the pave, which they 
 had previously kept three abreast — " curricle 
 fashion, with an outrigger," as Uncle Tom 
 expressed it ; so they turned with the press, 
 and sought an entrance into St. Mary's. The 
 church, however, was so full, that they re- 
 treated ; but, in order that one of the finest 
 institutions of which this country can boast 
 might not suffer by their absence from the 
 service in which its merits were brought be- 
 fore the public, and its interests ably advo- 
 cated, they retired to a neighbouring sta- 
 tioner's, and enclosed the Squire's five-pound 
 note, with its facsimile, hitherto the pro- 
 perty of Uncle Tom, to the secretary and 
 treasurer of the Infirmary. 
 
 Horatio then left his uncle and brother to 
 go and order dinner in his rooms, and secure
 
 304 GREAT TOM 
 
 a party. The former was easily effected, as 
 Coquus had laid in a large store of every 
 thing in season ; but the latter was a work of 
 some difficulty, as very few men were to be 
 found in their rooms, and those few had en- 
 gagements of some sort or another, and could 
 not come. Out of his large circle of ac- 
 quaintances, he could only secure the attend- 
 ance of half a dozen, and those, unfortu- 
 nately, the noisiest and most unphilosophical 
 men in our house. His attempt to secure a 
 few quiet out-college men was equally abor- 
 tive, and for the same reason — they were all 
 engaged, either having parties of their own, 
 or having promised other men to join them. 
 Horatio ordered dinner for twenty, and 
 trusted to chance to fill up his table. 
 
 In the mean while, Uncle Tom and his 
 other nephew, Cicero, in order to while away 
 the day, took a stroll out of Oxford to see a 
 model farm, which they fancied might give 
 them a few new notions in improving the lands 
 or crops, flocks or herds, when they returned 
 to Colyton Grange. 
 
 As they sauntered up Headington Hill,
 
 OF OXFORD. 305 
 
 towards the spot whence they expected to 
 add to their stock of agricultural knowledge, 
 a carriage, an open barouche, met them, in 
 which were seated a lady, rather past the 
 prime of life, and an elderly gentleman. The 
 box was occupied by a younger man, who, 
 from the family likeness, might have been 
 considered as the brother of the lady within. 
 As the hind- wheel was locked to guard against 
 the perils of the descent of so steep a hill as 
 that of the village of Headington, our friends 
 had an opportunity of observing the appear- 
 ance of the occupants of the barouche as it 
 proceeded slowly on its downward way. 
 Cicero stared, rather rudely perhaps, and ob- 
 served to his uncle that the lady put him in 
 mind of a newly-tiled barn — her hair was so 
 very red, and the gentleman on the box of 
 a turkey-cock in a violent passion — as his 
 whiskers strongly resembled the wattles of 
 that very iracund bird. 
 
 Now, Uncle Tom, as I have said, had en- 
 tertained a strong antipathy to the fair sex, 
 since " the days that he was jilted in, a long 
 time ago." He never, therefore, looked upon
 
 306 GREAT TOM 
 
 any woman, if he could avoid it, except his 
 sister-in-law and the agfed female domestics 
 at the Grange. He smiled, for he could not 
 help it, at his nephew's odd description of 
 the passing travellers, and winked ; but then 
 his eye — the queer one, which was unfortu- 
 nately next to the carriage — was directed, as 
 he fondly thought, to the summit of a neigh- 
 bouring elm-tree. That the lady thought 
 different was evident; for, after giving her 
 brother upon the box-seat a pretty hard poke 
 with her parasol, she bowed and smiled bene- 
 volently at Uncle Tom; and the gentleman 
 with whiskers like a turkey-cock's wattles 
 lifted his hat. Even the old gentleman inside 
 took off his hat when the carriage was nearly 
 out of his sight, as if he had at length under- 
 stood from the lady that Uncle Tom was an 
 acquaintance of the family. 
 
 " Who are your friends ?" asked Cicero. 
 
 " My friends ! — what friends ?" said Uncle 
 Tom. 
 
 " The lady and the gentlemen who bowed 
 so politely to you from the green ba- 
 rouche."
 
 OF OXFORD. 307 
 
 " Never saw them before in ray life ; they 
 must he your friends, Cicero." 
 
 " Thank you, uncle, but I had much rather 
 not," said Cicero ; " but it was a mistake 
 doubtless on their parts, only I must say that 
 the lady seemed not only to recognise yon 
 herself, but anxious that the bushy individual 
 on the box should do so too.'' 
 
 " It's very odd, unaccountably odd, as 
 your father would say ; but never mind. The 
 chances are incalculable that we never see 
 them again," said Uncle Tom, following his 
 nephew over a stile into a field of wheat, upon 
 the merits or dements of which they com- 
 menced descanting so earnestly, that the 
 vision of the lady in the barouche was soon 
 forgotten. 
 
 We must leave them investigating the 
 crops, flocks, herds, and droves of the model 
 farm, and return to Leech pere. 
 
 The professor of chemistry in those days 
 was one of our men. He had, however, with 
 his professorship, accepted of a partner for 
 life, and therefore could not reside in Christ-
 
 308 GREAT TOM 
 
 church, but had taken a house in a retired 
 part of Oxford. The house was not a de- 
 sirable residence, either from its build or its 
 locality ; but it had a large garden, and at 
 the farthest corner of that garden, and at a 
 distance from any other building, a large, 
 old-fashioned greenhouse, capable of being 
 converted at no great expense, and with per- 
 fect safety to the neighbourhood, into a labo- 
 ratory. He might blow up himself in the 
 course of his experiments, but others were 
 safe. He was a quiet, laborious man, ena- 
 moured of his profession, though he never 
 practised as a medical man ; and, as long as 
 he was permitted to spend his days and the 
 greater part of his nights in the pursuit of 
 that interesting branch of his profession, 
 chemistry, he was a happier individual than 
 many, indeed any, who have no resource but 
 in the pleasures of life, and what is called 
 " society." 
 
 To the abode of his old college friend Squire 
 Leech walked hastily. He knocked at the 
 outer gates, and, upon inquiring of the ser- 
 vant if Doctor Phosphorus was at home, the
 
 OF OXFORD. 309 
 
 domestic replied, " No." There was a some- 
 thing, however, a kind of suppressio veri, in 
 the manner in which this " no " was uttered 
 that induced the Squire to make further in- 
 quiries, and to state his case thus : "I am 
 sorry the Doctor is not at home, for I have 
 come up from the country on purpose to see 
 him ; he is an old college friend, and I am 
 sure he will be vexed when he finds that I 
 have come up on purpose to see him, and 
 been disappointed." 
 
 As he uttered these words, he put his hands 
 into his waistcnat-pockets, and made a jing- 
 ling noise like the rattling of silver or £old, 
 and then looked the servant hard in the face. 
 Jonathan hemmed thrice, walked a little 
 way from the gate into the garden, and, as 
 the Squire followed, pointed to the formal 
 greenhouse, and hemmed again. As he did 
 so, he inadvertently, of course, turned round 
 to shut the gate with his right hand, and his 
 left was placed behind him with the palm ex- 
 tended ; into that open palm the Squire 
 dropped a crown-piece, and the fingers closed 
 upon it convulsively ; although the person to
 
 3 1 GREAT TOM 
 
 whom the palm belonged took no further no- 
 tice of anything, but, having fastened the 
 gate, walked quietly up to the house. The 
 door of the laboratory — the whilom green- 
 house — stood invitingly open. Mr. Leech 
 did not give any masonic signal, but entered. 
 The place was darkened — artificially dark- 
 ened — for an experiment was being tried, 
 which was not calculated for the " eye of 
 day." It was a something or other in the 
 combustible department of the ars chymica. 
 His approach was not observed by the two 
 persons, one the Professor, the other a 
 stranger, who were busily engaged in stirring 
 the materials for the experiment, in a huge 
 crucible, until he called out, " Phosphorus, 
 my old friend, I am delighted to find you." 
 
 " Keep stirring for your life," said Phos- 
 phorus, continuetur agitatio. " Leech, Ju- 
 piter Leech, I am glad to see you." 
 
 After a very few brief inquiries into each 
 other's welfare, during which the Professor 
 was continually turning round to watch the 
 progress of the composition in the crucible, 
 and saying half audibly, " If he should but
 
 OF OXFORD. 311 
 
 stop stirring for one moment !" the Squire 
 explained the object of his coming up to Ox- 
 ford, namely, to be introduced to the great 
 natural philosopher, the Baron Von Inkstand- 
 hausen. 
 
 " That's the man," said the Professor. 
 " It is a great honour for so humble an indi- 
 vidual as myself to entertain him in my house, 
 and have his able assistance at a most inte- 
 resting but rather dangerous experiment. We 
 are on the nature of combustibles, and if he 
 was to cease stirring that crucible but for one 
 minute — bah ! we should be gone ; never seen 
 again." 
 
 "And is that the great man — the Infc- 
 standhausen?" asked the Squire. " Pray in- 
 troduce me to him." 
 
 " Not for worlds now" said the Professor. 
 
 The Baron, however, had heard his name 
 quoted, and when he looked up and saw a 
 gentlemanly person talking with Doctor Phos- 
 phorus, he relinquished his stirabout, and 
 advanced to meet him. 
 
 " Don't stir — but stir, stir, stir !" shouted 
 Doctor Phosphorus, but too late. Before the
 
 312 GREAT TOM 
 
 Baron could grasp the extended hand of the 
 Squire, " phiz, whiz, spurt, bang !" The roof 
 was blown off the building, and the trio, 
 luckily unhurt, rose from the ground, be- 
 grimed with smoke, ashes, and dust. 
 
 " I told you how it would be," said Doctor 
 Phosphorus ; " I begged of you not to stir, 
 but to keep on stirring, and you did stir in- 
 stead of keeping stirring, and you see the 
 consequences : allow me to introduce you to 
 my friend Mr. Leech, of Colyton Grange, 
 in " 
 
 " Bang !" went something else ; and then 
 several little diminutive " bangs " followed, 
 at which the Baron, although he had been 
 nearly knocked down again, clapped his hands 
 with delight, and screamed, rather than said, 
 " J 'avals raison — J'avais raison — him ex- 
 plode twice as vonce" 
 
 The professor of chemistry was vexed to 
 think that he had been beaten by a foreigner, 
 but could not but allow the fact ; so, to hide 
 his vexation, he employed himself in rubbing 
 down the clothes of the Squire, which were 
 covered with a liquid that had spirted from
 
 OF OXFORD. 313 
 
 the exploded crucible. He then rubbed the 
 Baron down likewise, and last of all himself. 
 
 As the little bangs continued, much to the 
 Baron's joy, who kept dancing about and 
 clapping his hands, the Squire, whose zeal for 
 science, though considerable, was not so great 
 as to induce him to sacrifice life or limb in its 
 service, made his escape from the laboratory, 
 and was shortly followed by his friend and 
 the Baron, to whom he was again introduced 
 in due form. 
 
 It was rather amusing to see the Baron 
 and the chemical professor, each holding the 
 country gentleman and amateur philosopher 
 by a coat-button ; and, with their very black 
 faces close to his smoked visage, endeavouring 
 to enlighten him on the subject of the expe- 
 riment which had just noisily reported the 
 success of the Baron's theory. So earnest 
 were they in impressing the whys and where- 
 fores of their views upon the subject, that 
 they did not observe Jonathan, whom the 
 noise of the explosion had summoned from 
 the house, until he exclaimed, " Here's a 
 mettimurphisy ! — here's a transmigration /" 
 
 vol. i. p
 
 314 GREAT TOM 
 
 His master looked angrily at Jonathan, 
 and demanded what he meant by interrupt- 
 ing him in the middle of a learned discussion. 
 
 Jonathan, instead of replying respectfully, 
 as a judicious servant would have done, burst 
 out laughing, and pointed with his finger first 
 at the Squire, then at the Baron, and, lastly, 
 at his master. This, of course, induced the 
 parties pointed at to examine each other, and 
 then themselves. Imagine their horror and 
 amazement. The Squire, who was dressed, 
 as most old English gentlemen were wont to 
 dress of yore, in a blue coat, buff waistcoat, 
 drab sit-upons, and gray silk stockings, saw 
 his blue coat covered with large red spots, his 
 buff vest converted into a dingy brown, his 
 drabs into a sort of yellowy pink, and his 
 grays turned into dapple grays, the very 
 colour of his own carriage horses. The Baron 
 and the Professor, who had been dressed in 
 black, now presented the appearance of Za- 
 miels, as that character is dressed in the Frei- 
 schiitz. The influence of the nitrous fumes 
 had turned the black to a deep but brilliant 
 red !
 
 OF OXFORD. 315 
 
 Jonathan could not give over laughing, 
 although he tried very hard to do so. The 
 Squire tried to join in the laugh, but could 
 not. The Professor was very angry, and 
 harangued his servant on the impropriety of 
 his proceedings; but the Baron, taking a 
 huge pinch of snuff, coolly observed, " They 
 vos vare goot acids." 
 
 What was to be done ? The Squire could 
 not walk down to his lodgings to change his 
 dress : the boys would have followed him, 
 huzzaed at him, and probably pelted him, or 
 else have taken him for Mr. Moon, the con- 
 jurer. His friend could not supply him with 
 a change by way of loan, for he was a very 
 little thin man, and the Squire tall and stout. 
 As to the Baron, he was located at the Pro- 
 fessor's, and of course had only to seek his 
 room and resort to his portmanteau. Jona- 
 than relieved his master's anxiety, by sug- 
 gesting that a carriage should be procured to 
 convey the Squire to his lodgings. While he 
 was gone to procure it, the Squire's black 
 beaver broad brim began to feel the effects of 
 the nitric and sulphuric acids, and turned as 
 
 P 2
 
 316 GREAT TOM 
 
 red as his coat. The Baron suggested the 
 propriety of trying whether an alkali would 
 not neutralize the effect of the acids, and re- 
 store the hat to its original nigerity ; but, 
 before he and his friend the Professor could 
 agree whether soda or potass was the more 
 compatible alkali to be used, the Star chariot 
 drove up to the gate, and the Squire, having 
 secured the company of the Baron and his 
 friend the Professor of chemistry at dinner, 
 sprang into it, and sat back as far as he 
 could. 
 
 He attracted but little attention, until the 
 chariot arrived in the High Street, where its 
 further progress was impeded by a string of 
 vehicles that was waiting to take up their 
 respective burdens as soon as the sermon in 
 aid of the infirmary funds was over : forget- 
 ting the " mettimurphisy," and the oddness 
 of his appearance, the Squire let down the 
 windows, and thrust his head out to ascertain 
 the cause of the obstruction. The stoppage 
 unluckily happened just before the door of a ce- 
 lebrated, and justly celebrated, pastry-cook's 
 shop. Now, the shop was full of men who
 
 OF OXFORD. 317 
 
 preferred pastry to preaching, and who were 
 cooling the ardour excited by overnight stimu- 
 lants and breakfast devilries, and a June sun, 
 with a series of fresh fruit-ices. 
 
 " What a quiz !" said one. 
 
 " Quis est?" inquired another. 
 
 " The Pope of Rome, for a penny," said a 
 third. 
 
 " I'll bet two to one he's a cardinal : twig 
 his red hat," said a fourth. 
 
 " I'll take it," said a fifth ; " he's something 
 military, in a new regulation-hat." 
 
 Several other characters were named, and 
 bets booked to a considerable amount upon 
 the Squire's being somebody or other ; but 
 the heaviest were in favour of his being a 
 foreign ambassador, or the leader of the 
 quadrille band, come down from London to 
 play at the Star ball. 
 
 " Here, Horse-Leech," cried one of the 
 young men. "Come here a minute, if you 
 can leave off flirting with Betsy, and just 
 give us your notion of who and what that 
 very queer character is in the coach." 
 
 " He's the pope."
 
 318 GREAT TOM 
 
 " He's a cardinal." 
 
 " He's a foreign count." 
 
 " Only a musician — a mere fiddler." 
 
 " For another pony — I name him — He's 
 the ambassador from the Red Sea." 
 
 " Who is he, Leech?" said all, at once. 
 
 " He is my governor," said Horatio ; " but 
 why he has been metamorphosing himself in 
 that very extraordinary way I cannot con- 
 ceive." 
 
 " Is he a deputy-lieutenant for Northamp- 
 tonshire?" asked one man. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Horace. 
 
 " Then rely upon it that is the new dress 
 for the character, and I win three ponies, for 
 it's military." 
 
 The Squire, who had been abusing the 
 driver for not getting on, suddenly found 
 himself the centre of attraction to a large 
 crowd, and, recollecting the queerness of his 
 appearance, popped back into his corner, and 
 endeavoured to hide himself by pulling up 
 the glasses. It was too late, however ; a 
 rumour had pervaded the multitude that the
 
 OF OXFORD. 319 
 
 chariot contained some great man, and every 
 one was resolved to have a peep at him. 
 
 When the chariot moved on, which it did 
 as soon as Horatio had jumped upon the box 
 and bidden the driver turn round and go by 
 Oriel Lane, and so through Blue Boar Lane, 
 to the lodgings in St. Aldate's, a large crowd 
 followed it which grew gradually larger ; and, 
 when the Squire alighted and rushed up to 
 his rooms, he was saluted by loud cries of 
 " Window ! window ! show yourself at the 
 window," which, of course, he would not do ; 
 and so the house was closely beset for the 
 rest of the day, although Horatio explained 
 to some of the people that the occupier of the 
 bootmaker's lodgings was only a country 
 gentleman who had met with an accident 
 which had discoloured his dress. 
 
 The Squire would have been very angry, 
 but his wrath was appeased by the thought 
 that his annoyances had been caused in the 
 pursuits of science, and in the presence of the 
 greatest natural philosopher of the age. 
 
 END OF VOL. 1.
 
 Frederick Shobcrl, Junior, Printer to His Royal Highness Prince Albert, 
 51, Rupert Street, Haymarket, London.
 
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