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CHARLIE VILLARS AT CAMBRIDGE, 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 vtn 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/charlievillarsat01tott 
 
CHARLIE VILLABS 
 
 AT 
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE L TOTTENHAM 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 " Non fumura ex fulgorc, sed ex t'umo dare lucem 
 Cogitat." — Horace. 
 
 Not smoke from light, but light from smoke he means to bring" 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HIRST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 18, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1868. 
 
 aJU of Translation i» reserved. 
 
LONDON: 
 
 Strangeways and Walden, Frintli;>, 
 
 Castle St. Leicester Sq. 
 
813 
 
 Tl*4c 
 l 
 
 >- 
 
 UJ 
 CO 
 
 TO 
 
 MY FRIENDS, 
 
 S HORACE SEYMOUR and WALTER DUNCOMBE, 
 
 ** SEtyis "Work 
 
 id 
 
 is affectionately 
 
 JkMcateb. 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 It lias been objected to me that the general im- 
 pression which this book leaves upon the mind (the 
 first volume particularly) is, that all the characters 
 devote themselves to the one selfish end of amuse- 
 ment ; and that this hardly bears out the idea of 
 living for others, which it is so desirable to impress 
 upon every human being. Had I preferred to 
 mount the ' airy stilts ' of theory, I might no doubt 
 have drawn a fancy picture of some Utopian insti- 
 tution where every member rode, boated, cricketed, 
 read, or played whist for the benefit of his neigh- 
 bours and the world at large ; but the picture would 
 then have been as ideal as I hope it now is real. 
 I venture to assert that there are not — well, not 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 very many men out of the fourteen or fifteen hun- 
 dred undergraduates, who have become alive to a 
 sense of their duty in life, and who look upon their 
 course at College from any other point of viow than 
 that of amusement. The men who derive benefit 
 from the examinations and studies of the place are 
 few and far between ; to the majority the advantages 
 gained are social rather than educational. And. 
 therefore, while I have not by any means passed 
 over the few who do improve their minds, and have 
 even allowed one or two to air their crude philo- 
 sophy at the Union, I hardly think it necessary to 
 apologise for devoting the greater part of the book 
 to the pleasures of the place — for which the greater 
 number live. One thing I wish to impress upon my 
 Cambridge readers is, that all personality I have 
 most studiously avoided ; and I may say with Ad- 
 dison in the Spectator, ' I believe my reader would 
 still think the better of me if he knew the pains I 
 am at in qualifying what I write, after such a man- 
 ner that nothing may be interpreted as aimed at 
 private persons. For this reason, when I draw any 
 
Preface. vii 
 
 faulty character, I consider all those persons to 
 whom the malice of the world may possibly apply 
 it, and take care to dash it with such particular cir- 
 cumstances as may prevent all such ill-natured 
 applications.' If any one finds a cap which he thinks 
 will fit him, I cannot prevent him from wearing it ; 
 I can only assure him that his head was not con- 
 sidered in the manufacture of it. Incidents of real 
 occurrence I have occasionally introduced, where 
 they could give offence to none ; for the reason 
 which has been before adduced in a similar instance 
 — that the reality may give an interest which the 
 powers of the author might have otherwise failed to 
 attain for them. 
 
 The obvious reason why there never has been a 
 good description of University life written, is that 
 
 seldom 
 
 ' One man in his time plays many parts ; ' 
 
 and therefore when he comes to write about other 
 sets than that in which he lived and moved and had 
 his being, the weight of his inexperience naturally 
 causes him to break down, and he hobbles lamely off 
 
viii Preface. 
 
 the course to the great discontent of the spectators. 
 Perhaps my role has been more varied, and the 
 result accordingly on paper more satisfactory. 
 At any rate, no one, I think, will be able to say 
 to me — 
 
 ' Great things, and full of wonder in our ears, 
 Far differing from this world, thou hast revealed.' 
 
CHARLIE VILLAKS AT CAMBEIDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1 A change came o'er the spirit of my dream — 
 The boy was sprang to manhood.' — Byron. 
 
 ' Tick-etts ! tick-etts ! ' — and the Shoreditch train 
 draws up to the Cambridge platform. 
 
 A happy sound it was, that cry of ' tick-etts/ to 
 the occupants of the train 3 who for some time past 
 had been anathematizing the slowness of the Great 
 Eastern line and the discomfort of the carriages. 
 
 Many a fresh-looking head is now thrust out to 
 take preliminary stock of the place ; and the train, 
 meanwhile, draws up to the station and disgorges its 
 contents. 
 
 It was an afternoon early in October — the day 
 before the examination for matriculation at Trinity ; 
 so that the majority of the youths upon the platform 
 were on their way to that establishment. Here and 
 there the look of easj' indifference, or contempt of 
 the others, marked the older man, who was coming 
 up before the time for some reason best known to 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 himself. But the mark of freshness, which flymen, 
 omnibus conductors, and porters love to contemplate, 
 was evident upon the foreheads of most ; and they 
 were accordingly so many bones of contention be- 
 tween twice or thrice as many active claimants. 
 
 At the time of which I write, the Cambridge 
 platform was constructed with a view to the com- 
 parative convenience of arriving passengers, who 
 were not then, as now, whirled a day's journey be- 
 vond the ' "Way Out/ to retrace their steps down a 
 long vista of ' pillar'd shade.' There was an under- 
 ground passage from the opposite platform, through 
 which luggage was conveyed — siqieras evade re ad 
 auras — on the other side; there being a bridge 
 across the line for passengers. 
 
 If the gentle reader, male and female, — 
 
 ' Who would not laugh if such an one there be ? — ' 
 
 will follow me on to this bridge, I will introduce 
 them to my initial characters — Charlie Yillars and 
 Robert Marston — who are now on their way to meet 
 their luggage at the point of exit. 
 
 ' How stupid of him,' you say, ' introducing us 
 in a place where we are obliged to walk behind the 
 people we are introduced to ! ' 
 
 It is inconvenient, I confess — makes it so awk- 
 ward ! But here we are at the entrance ; in the 
 middle of a pushing, jostling, excited crowd, who are 
 all speaking at once, and upholding the peculiar 
 advantages of their own particular conveyances. 
 
Arrival and Antecedents. 
 
 You watch your two new friends select a fly ; see their 
 luggage transferred to the roof, and mark the por- 
 ter hold the door open and ask to be remembered. 
 He touches his hat, shuts the door with a bang, and 
 tells the driver ' Trinity.' While they admire the 
 beauties of Regent Street and the smoothness of its 
 paving- stones, you shall hear something of their 
 antecedents. 
 
 Villars, as you have doubtless already observed, 
 was tall and fair to look upon, with delicate features, 
 and that unmistakeable look of a gentleman, which, 
 even when unaccompanied with his sweetness of ex- 
 pression, never fails to attract. He was dressed as a 
 gentleman should be, in quiet good taste ; no incon- 
 gruous mixture of flaring colours, no cutaway, rakish- 
 looking tails, or gorgeous rings and jewelry ; with 
 tight trousers and brown-cloth boots to follow. 
 
 Lord Lytton, than whom none knows better the 
 requisites of a gentleman, has laid down this 
 maxim — 'Dress so that it may never be said of 
 you " What a well-dressed man ! " but " What a 
 gentlemanlike man ! " 3 The latter was the observa- 
 tion you made after the first glance at Charlie 
 Yillars. 
 
 So much for his appearance and dress. His 
 father was a country gentleman of considerable pro- 
 perty in Gloucestershire ; who could trace his de- 
 scent many centuries farther back than half the 
 young peerages which hold their heads so high, and 
 which have cropped up in many instances from the 
 obscurest origin. 
 
Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Charlie was his only son, and at eleven years 
 old he had gone straight from his tutor at home to 
 Harrow. Mr. Villars wisely considered that the 
 advantage of having had a little knocking about 
 before being launched into the great world of a 
 public school, was but a poor compensation for 
 acquiring the miserable little ways, habits, and 
 thoughts which are engendered at a private one ; 
 and which it takes a year or two of public school 
 life to purge away. 
 
 At Harrow, Villars had made no great figure. 
 He took his part in all the games of the place, but 
 excelled in none. He never therefore could be a 
 well-known or popular character, where superiority 
 in one or more of these is indispensable. He was 
 not much known accordingly out of his own house 
 or form ; but where he was known, he was liked as 
 a fellow who was thoroughly good-natured, sweet- 
 tempered, and never did harm to any one ; and who 
 was a perfect gentleman — for boys can appreciate 
 a gentleman, though they reserve their enthusiasm 
 for those who distinguish themselves in the more 
 active pursuits to which their tastes usually incline. 
 
 Without having any of that boisterous fun and 
 exuberance of spirits which are so attractive to boys 3 
 he was yet high-spirited and full of life, and could 
 laugh as gaily and appreciate the ridiculous as fully, 
 or more so than most who were considered first- 
 rate fellows. He had left the Upper Fifth at 
 seventeen for a private tutor's in Xortliamptonshire, 
 to polish up his Greek and Latin before coming up 
 
Harrow and Eton, 
 
 to Trinity ; and here lie had met Marston, who had 
 come from Eton with the same object. 
 
 Marston was in many respects, perhaps in most, 
 the very converse of Villars. He was a dark, sun- 
 burnt, cheery-looking, well-made fellow, with an 
 eye full of fun, and a slap-you-on-the-back kind of 
 manner. His dress was good of its kind, but care- 
 lessly worn — the scarf thrust negligently through a 
 ring : part of his clothes new, and part showing 
 signs of wear : wristbands carefully tucked back to 
 show a bare foot of wrist ; and a new hat, with ruf- 
 fled nap, which said as plainly as the owner coidd 
 have, ' "What does it matter ? it does just as well.' 
 
 He had gone to Eton at eight years old, and 
 moved by slow degrees from the Lower School into 
 the Fifth, developing his athletic tastes as he went. 
 In course of time he had taken his place in the 
 eight, and eventually ascended to the pedestal 
 which is assigned to the stroke among the Eton 
 gods. His cordial and hearty manners, and geniality 
 of disposition, had obtained for him even a larger 
 share of popularity than Etonians generally lavish 
 upon their heroes ; and the announcement, there- 
 fore, when his popularity was at its height, that he 
 was to leave at the end of the half, was a bitter pill 
 for him to swallow. 
 
 1 To-morrow ; oh ! that's sudden — spare him ! spare him !' 
 
 All his entreaties, however, availed not to soften 
 the parental stone ; and at midsummer he bade 
 good-bye, with a heavy heart, to the scenes with 
 
Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 which, all his early joys and triumphs were con- 
 nected. 
 
 Leaving* school is to a popular boy one of the 
 first great trials of his lifez The choking feeling 
 that the same scenes, on the minutiae of which he so 
 fondly dwells, can never be enacted again ; that the 
 curtain has dropped for ever upon this pleasant 
 drama, and that another will take his part, and he 
 will not be missed — the feeling that he can never 
 again share the interests, hopes, and wishes of the 
 friends he leaves behind, overpowers for a time his 
 mind, and fills it with a dreary sense of desolation, 
 which even the buoyancy of youth or new com- 
 panionships and interests fail immediately to dispel. 
 Often did Marston revisit his well-loved Eton ; 
 eagerly did he wander through his former haunts ; 
 fondly did he linger over the well-known spots 
 which memory gilded with a sunny light. But 
 Eton was no longer Eton for him. He felt that 
 his day was gone by, that he was a thing of the 
 past, a curiosity to coming boys ; and sadly, and 
 more sadly each time he retraced his steps. 
 
 Where now, I wonder, are the friends of our 
 youth, the cherished companions who shared our 
 early confidence ; whose sympathising hearts beat 
 responsive to our own ; with whom we wandered 
 by the stream, or through the grove ; by whose 
 side we loitered on summer days amidst the new- 
 mown hay, or leant upon the rustic stile ? "Where 
 are they gone who shared our boyish ambition in the 
 cricket-field or on the river ; who gloried in our 
 
Early Friendships. 
 
 triumphs, and sympathised in our disappointments ; 
 with whom we talked untiringly of our young hopes, 
 and fears, and friends, as we sat gazing into each 
 other's eyes with ardent schoolboy love ? Where 
 are they now ? ' And Echo answers, " Where ?"' 
 
 1 Their voices still sound in my ear, 
 Their features I see in my dreams.' 
 
 Visions, alas ! — and only visions — of happy days 
 and innocent pleasures, over which the wave of time 
 has rolled, burying them beneath its surge. Some 
 are scattered to the four winds of heaven over the face 
 of the wide globe. Some we shall see no more upon 
 this earth ; they are gone, and the place knoweth 
 them no more. Others have grown listless and 
 proud, incrusted with the cold conventionalities of 
 the world, and ashamed perhaps of their boyish love. 
 They are scattered and gone — vanished from our 
 ken — and naught but the fleeting memory remains 
 of those joyful years when the heart was yet un- 
 fettered : free in its enthusiasm, free to love as it 
 pleased, free to pour forth its love in all its natural 
 eloquence. But, away, sad melancholy ! have 
 we not new friends as dear, new interests as 
 engrossing as the old? ' Shadows, avaunt !' the 
 commencement of college life is no time for 
 sadness. 
 
 During the second year of Marston's stay at his 
 private tutor's, Villars was his companion ; and 
 although they came from different schools, and 
 had not much in common, a mutual liking had 
 
Charlie Villars at Cambridge, 
 
 sprung up between them, which might perhaps in 
 time have warmed into friendship. They had 
 agreed on leaving Northamptonshire to come up to 
 Cambridge together, and had accordingly met in 
 London on the morning of this day. 
 
 Marston's father considered his son competent to 
 introduce himself to his tutor, and Yillars had been 
 obliged to do the same, owing to his father having 
 been detained in the country. 
 
 These explanations have taken up time : and 
 the two freshmen have already threaded the mazes 
 of Petty Cury, and turned the sharp corner of 
 Green Street, arriving before us at the gate of 
 Trinity. A noble old gate it is too — fine, square, 
 and massive ; worthy of the portly form of Henry 
 the Eighth, whose figure and legs adorn the exterior. 
 
 Yillars had not yet engaged any rooms, having 
 trusted to his tutor to do so for him. Marston had 
 been up for that purpose the previous term, and 
 had, with the assistance of a friend, found rooms in 
 college. He therefore directed his luga-age to be 
 taken there, and followed himself; while Yillars 
 underwent for some moments a curious scrutiny 
 from the loiterers about the gate. These mostly 
 consisted of persons called ' gyps,' who perform the 
 functions of waiters in hall, and attend private 
 festivities in the same capacity. To one of these he 
 was entrusted by the porter — the white-headed 
 i janitor aulcv' who has since been gathered to his 
 fathers — to be convoyed to Mr. Wood's, his tutor's 
 rooms. These rooms were in the New Court, over 
 
Interview with Tutor. 
 
 the gateway, and Villars learnt on the way tlial 
 there was but small chance of finding their owner at 
 home ; since about this time — half-past three — the 
 tutors and dons generally take their walk before 
 hall. 
 
 The fates, however, were propitious, and Mr. 
 Wood met him at the foot of the staircase, on his 
 way out for fresh air, having been engaged the 
 whole morning and noon in receiving freshmen. 
 
 Villars was agreeably surprised to find his future 
 tutor a mild, gentlemanlike man of forty years or 
 thereabouts, with a head of the usual proportions, 
 and in other respects very like an ordinary human 
 being. He had pictured to himself a man of portly 
 build, inclining to embonpoint, who found respira- 
 tion no easy matter, and had a head distended with 
 erudition. 
 
 1 Ah ! yes ; how do you do ? ' returned Mr. Wood 
 to Charlie's explanation of his individuality ; ' come 
 upstairs for a moment, Mr. Villars, if you please.' 
 
 Mr. Villars followed, and when he had taken a 
 chair by request, Mr. Wood asked after his father, 
 and then proceeded to inform him that, as he knew 
 he had engaged no rooms, he had reserved some 
 for him in the town. His gyp would show him the 
 way presently, and he hoped they would be com- 
 fortable. His name had not been long enough on 
 the college-books to entitle him to rooms in college ; 
 but there would be several sets vacant the ensuing 
 term ; and if he would then apply (should he fancy 
 the change) doubtless he could be accommodated. 
 
10 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Mr. Wood then handed his new pupil a list of 
 tradesmen with whom he recommended him to 
 deal ; and also, good man ! gave him a letter of 
 introduction to a washerwoman. A list also of 
 certain rules to be observed, he gave ; reminded 
 him that his examination was at nine o'clock the 
 following morning ; recommended him to dine in 
 hall, and finally shook hands with him again, hop- 
 ing that he would apply to him for any informa- 
 tion he might require. 
 
 Villars went away with a very high opinion of 
 tutors of colleges, and found from his accompanying 
 gyp that Mr. Wood was very popular, and his 
 side very full. He had thought him rather spare 
 of figure than otherwise, and could not quite see 
 what plumpness of rib had to do with popularity. 
 I suppose he looked rather mystified, for the good 
 gyp explained that pupils were said to be on Mr. 
 So-and-So's side, or Mr. So-and-So's, according as 
 they acknowledged for their tutor No. 1 or No. 
 2 — each tutor having a certain number. 
 
 The rooms which had been reserved were on the 
 second floor in Green Street ; fair as to size, not 
 gorgeously furnished, but moderately comfortable 
 as rooms went. His landlady, Mrs. Smith, appeared 
 anxious to please, and diffused an odour of respecta- 
 bility, which was pleasant for a freshman to in- 
 hale. 
 
 Landladies are of various aspects. There is 
 the anxiously obsequious female, who agrees with 
 
Landladies, 1 1 
 
 you in everything ; and whose taste in wine 
 and tea you may be sure will also agree with your 
 own. 
 
 Then there is the independent and somewhat 
 adversative landlady ; who either is very honest 
 and sends you up your remains (of flesh or fowl) 
 till they positively stink in your nostrils ; or else 
 makes away with your bread and butter, and tells 
 you that, if she does not suit you, the best course 
 for you to pursue will be to find another lodging. 
 
 There is, again, the hardworking, striving wo- 
 man, to whom every crust is a consideration, in 
 respect of her numerous family. Experience only 
 will show whether such a one is very honest, and 
 very thankful for every little help, or very much 
 the contrary, and always ready to help herself. 
 
 The woman who pleads poverty, being actually 
 in good circumstances, does not often commit petty 
 depredations on your larder ; but if any little altera- 
 tion is required in your room, which would naturally 
 fall upon the exchequer of the house, she enshrouds 
 herself in a mantle of pauperism, and chuckles as 
 she watches the progress of your improvements for 
 her next lodger. 
 
 The most objectionable breed of all is the severely 
 upright in outward appearance ; who brings back to 
 you with considerable parade a penny stamp which 
 she has borrowed from your writing-table ; while the 
 remains of a solution of your tea, which she has 
 stolen, yet hang about her hypocritical mouth. The 
 
12 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 look of injured innocence which she assumes on the 
 strength of the penny stamp restored, if taxed with 
 her peculations, is vastly edifying. 
 
 An attentive, honest Jandlady, such as Airs. 
 Smith turned out, is a great blessing to a helpless 
 undergraduate. She sent off at once to Villars' 
 tailor, as per tutor's recommendation on printed 
 list, for caps and gowns to try on, and he was soon 
 equipped in full academicals, which sat uncomfort- 
 ably enough at first, — 
 
 ' Uneasy moves the youth beneath a gown.' 
 
 It was nearly hall time, and caps and gowns 
 were dotted about as Yillars walked shvlv down 
 Trinity Street towards Marston's rooms ; the no- 
 velty of the sight producing much the same impres- 
 sion upon him as the gamins talking French in the 
 gutters are supposed to produce upon the freshman 
 traveller. 
 
 Marston was iust emerging from the decorating 
 hand of his bedmaker, a fine beery old lady, the 
 wrong side of fifty, and ugly as she was old. 
 
 Bedmakers are the stout plain persons who pre- 
 side over the tea and sugar, bread, butter, and fur- 
 niture of the in-college undergraduate. He pays 
 a small sum per term for her services, and gives 
 her the benefit of his perquisites, — no inconsiderable 
 item in her yearly income. They are generally 
 chosen so as to be, like Caesar's wife, ' above sus- 
 picion,' — as the following extract from Mr. Pepys' 
 second edition will show : — 
 
Bedmakers. 13 
 
 Act ii. Scene 3. 
 
 Tutor of College seated in a study ; to him enter 
 two young but very ill-favoured girls, candidates for the 
 office of Assist a )d Bed maker, with their mother, an old 
 hag. 
 
 Tutor. How now ! are these the girls ? 
 
 Jlother. They are, good sir. 
 
 The one, Amelia Sophonisba Gamp, 
 Of whom in b} T gone years you may have heard. 
 
 Tutor (favourably impressed). What the late 
 lamented Sarah Gamp ? 
 
 Jlother. V faith, the same. The other, Elizabeth, 
 Named after her godmother, one Betsy Prig. 
 
 Tutor. Ha ! good. But say "What qualifi- 
 cations have they ? 
 
 Mother. Amelia, by bounteous providence, is sin- 
 gularly blessed. 
 Her eyes nor match in colour nor in size ; 
 With one she squints ; the other, fixed, 
 Confronts with glassy stare the horrified beholder. 
 Her nose, broken in infancy, a rugged line presents; 
 While her young voice, turning from childish treble, 
 A wrong turn took, and mocks the raven's croak. 
 Elizabeth, by erysipelas that fell disease assailed, 
 With blush perpetual marks the modest maid. 
 Her figure shapeless doth, say some, resemble 
 A woolsack girt about the middle with a single cord. 
 
 Tutor. Ha ! (aside) so well recommended they 
 will want 
 
14 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 High wages, — and yet I must not lose them. Umph ! 
 I will endeavour to depreciate their merits. 
 (Aloud) This erysipelas on one cheek only 
 Lays its pimpled paw. 
 
 Mother. Alack ! it is so ; 
 
 But we hope, by dint of careful management, 
 To make th' eruption spread. 
 
 Tutor. Pr'ythee what grounds 
 
 For this ? 
 
 Mother. An' please your honour, we propose 
 A potent philter to apply, which shall the skin 
 With multitudinous spots incarnadine 
 Making the pale one red. 
 
 Tutor. So, so ! I twig ; 
 
 Fuller investigation I would make. 
 To-morrow at the self-same hour attend me here. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes.) 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 Marston was glad enough to see Yillars ap- 
 proaching. It is so much less unpleasant entering 
 upon a new situation in company ; particularly 
 when you. fancy, from the novelty of costume, that 
 every one's eyes are turned in your direction. 
 
 The shyness, however, which is bred of a cap 
 and gown worn for the first time, soon evaporated 
 under the comfortable feeling that all the others 
 looked quite as new, and that the faces of their 
 owners betrayed the same peculiarity. 
 
15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Homer. 
 
 The clock was striking the half-hour after four, and 
 little knots of undergraduates, mostly freshmen, were 
 waiting about the steps of the hall, or sauntering 
 across the great court in expectation of the dinner- 
 bell. The doors are thrown open, and Yillars and 
 Marston are carried along with the crowd into the 
 hall. 
 
 This hall is a spacious building with partly 
 stained windows and ornamented roof. Tables are 
 ranged parallel along the whole length, till they 
 arrive at the raised dais, where the fellows' tables 
 run crossways, lighted by deep embayed oriel win- 
 dows at either end. This is the region of the ' high 
 table/ where the fellows, fellow- commoners, &c. 
 dine ; looked down upon from massive gilt-frames by 
 former celebrities of the college. At the near end 
 there is a gallery from which visitors inspect the 
 beasts at feeding-time, particularly on feast-days. 
 Possibly the novelty of the sight of so many feeding 
 together, possesses attractions for some people ; but 
 
 * And they fell upon the food prepared. 
 
16 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 the idea that one is being inspected, and forming part 
 of a curious show, is somewhat unpalatable to the self- 
 respect of the dining undergraduate. The fellows' 
 table is too far off to come immediately under the 
 visiting eye, and one may well believe that on feast- 
 days ' distance lends enchantment to that view.' 
 
 Grace having been said, or rather read, by the 
 senior fellow present, the marker with his long paper 
 commenced his perambulations, and the hacking and 
 mangling of the joints with which the tables were 
 laden, began : — 
 
 ' Veal that is tottering on the verge of beef ; 
 Veal void of stuffing, widowed of its ham ; 
 Or the roast shoulder of an ancient ram.' 
 
 Before many minutes, Villars and Marston had 
 the satisfaction of experiencing 'the perils which 
 that youth encounters ' who dines in Trinity Hall. 
 Gyps of greasy aspect, and greasier coats, jostle with 
 fat and bonneted bedmakers up and down the nar- 
 row spaces between the tables ; pouring at intervals 
 libations of gravy or other fluid over the backs of 
 innocent undergraduates, while ever and anon the 
 head is impinged upon by some precipitate dish. 
 ' Much cry and little wool' is the character of the 
 attendance ; much rushing about, and very little 
 waiting. Fortunate, indeed, is the man who can 
 arrest a gyp's precipitate flight, and prevail upon 
 him to get what he wants ; while the head- waiter 
 passes a perspiring life in running from one com- 
 plaint to another, and trying to get double work out 
 
Trinity Hall. 17 
 
 of his scanty crew — which arc just about one- third 
 of the number that is required. 
 
 Villars had hoped to get a respectable cut out of a 
 joint of beef which his neighbour was engaged upon, 
 before it was hewed into a shapeless mass. But no 
 — a watchful gyp, the moment the knife and fork 
 were laid down, pounced upon it, and bore it off in 
 triumph to a far corner of the table. The sight of 
 its mangled form, when 'it returned, was enough to 
 take away any delicate appetite, and Charlie accord- 
 ingly was obliged to pick up a miserable dinner from 
 the remains of a half- cold leg of mutton. The plates 
 were cold, the beer so watery that plain water was 
 preferable, and the whole dinner conducted in such 
 a barbarous way, that the two freshmen left the hall 
 in disgust before the second course of puddings and 
 tarts was placed upon the table. 
 
 It is a marvellous thing that no bursar of the 
 college has yet had the courage to invade the pre- 
 rogative of the cook, and compel him to give the 
 undergraduates a better dinner ; and that the fellows 
 of the college should suffer Trinity dinners to be 
 proverbial for coarseness, discomfort, and extortion, 
 among the smaller colleges, which they affect to look 
 down upon, and which are infinitely superior to their 
 own in this respect. 
 
 It is monstrous, too, that the cook should be 
 allowed to enrich himself as he does, at the expense 
 of the undergraduates, who are obliged to pay the 
 high rate which is charged for dinner whether they 
 dine or not ; when many never go near the hall for 
 vol. i. C 
 
18 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 the purpose of dining, not having sufficiently strong 
 stomachs to carry them through a dinner conducted 
 with such refinement of coarseness. I have actually 
 seen a gyp, whose threadbare / coat might have been 
 an heirloom from our common progenitor, take 
 butter in his fingers from a plate which he was 
 carrying, and convey it to the pocket of this filthy 
 garment — Ugh ! the very thought, even now, of the 
 horrors of those dinners 'nearly makes me ill. I 
 tried very hard one day to induce a gyp to place 
 before the bursar a plateful of beef which had just 
 been handed to me, containing two junks of meat 
 cut like hunches of bread and bedaubed with half- 
 cold gravy and repulsive-looking grease. It would 
 have been a bright moment in my existence if I could 
 have sickened him over his entree, but my gyp had 
 visions of dismissal ; complaints are impertinent. 
 
 Yillars lingered with Marston for a few moments 
 on the hall steps, watching the men coming out, and 
 then walked on with him to his rooms, commenting 
 on the disagreeable nature of their first experience 
 of Trinity. 
 
 Marston's rooms were on the ground-floor in 
 the old court facing the chapel. His sitting-room 
 was a fair-sized one, abounding in corners, and 
 looking out at the back upon the varied beauties of 
 the brick wall of Caius. Furniture as yet there was 
 but little ; and that little he had taken at a valuation 
 from the last occupant — a reading man. There were 
 therefore few appliances for comfort ; a reading-cL 
 a few chairs, table, carpet, and so forth, and an arm- 
 
Rooms in College. 19 
 
 chair in which it would have been impossible to go 
 to sleep. The decoration of a room the incoming 
 tenant looks after according to his own taste, and 
 Marston had already settled where his library of 
 leaving books was to be, and how his Eton pictures 
 were to be disposed. Two doors opened from the 
 room ; one into his bedroom, a small closet, large 
 enough for a bed and a bath, and only large enough ; 
 the other into the gyp-room, the curious little hole 
 attached to college rooms, which is the sanctum of 
 the bedmaker in the daytime, — where she hoards her 
 candle-ends, and listens to the conversation of her 
 master and his friends in the sitting-room. 
 
 Bedmakers live in the town, and are out of 
 college by nine o'clock at night. Each one generally 
 has a staircase to herself, with one or two assistants. 
 
 Villars was engaged in examining the premises, 
 when he was startled by an exclamation from 
 Marston, ' Gordon, by all that's holy ! ' and Marston 
 was off like an arrow from a bow, returning shortly 
 after in triumph with the individual in question. 
 
 ' You know Villars, don't you ? ' he said, as they 
 entered. 
 
 Naturally they were not acquainted, and nodded 
 accordingly ; and Gordon hastened to answer Mar- 
 ston' a string of questions about himself and every- 
 body at Eton. 
 
 ' You know Castleton and Williams are coming 
 up?' 
 
 * No ; are they ?' exclaimed Marston, ' I'm aw- 
 fully glad ; it seems an age since I left Eton, iiow 
 
20 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 savage I was at being collared and hauled off ! I 
 owe the governor one for that.' 
 
 Villars listened for a time to their school remi- 
 niscences, and not sharing their interest in the place 
 or the individuals, went away to see after his 
 luggage ; Marston promising to come in to tea in 
 the evening. 
 
 He found everything safely delivered at his 
 rooms, and was soon knee-deep in linen, books, and 
 clothes, which, with his landlady's assistance, he 
 was endeavouring to reduce to some sort of order. 
 Marston turned up at eight o'clock, and was afraid 
 that Villars had been bored by their ' shop.' 
 
 ' You know, I haven't seen Gordon for such a 
 deuce of a time,' he said, as he took off his cap and 
 gown ; ' he's a rattling good fellow ; rowed stroke of 
 our boat last year, — safe to be in the eight, I should 
 think.' 
 
 Mrs. Smith had provided chickens and tongue 
 for tea, on Charlie's order from the kitchens ; and 
 the grocer recommended by his tutor had supplied 
 lighter delicacies. Each undergraduate is allowed 
 three orders on the kitchens per week, value twelve 
 shillings ; anything further, or beyond this amount, 
 requires to be signed by his tutor. It does not 
 follow that every undergraduate makes use of his 
 three orders. Many never use them at all. 
 
 Marston left soon after nine o'clock to look over 
 his Euclid for the following day, and Villars took 
 another look at his classical subjects, which were 
 his weak point, before going to bed. 
 
Matriculation. 21 
 
 Breakfast over, the next morning, lie sallied 
 forth, in cap and gown, at five minutes to nine, 
 determined not to be late at the examination. With 
 this laudable intent, he followed groups of other 
 caps and gowns who, he supposed, were bent on the 
 same errand as he was, and soon found himself at 
 the door of the Senate House, where an old Harrow 
 acquaintance, guessing his mistake, told him to hark 
 back to the Lecture Room in Trinity. He found 
 Mr. Wood's lecture-room after some further mis- 
 takes, and had to find his place among the rest of 
 the freshmen before the gaze of the whole room, — 
 an awkward beginning ! 
 
 It was a mathematical paper, and easy enough 
 for any one who had two ideas on the subject in his 
 head, and Yillars therefore soon finished it ; afford- 
 ing considerable assistance to his neighbour on the 
 right, who appeared hopelessly incapable of answer- 
 ing any one question. 
 
 Marston was coming across the court from his 
 tutor's room under the Clock Tower, when Charlie 
 came out ; and, on comparing notes and papers, 
 found that he had done two or three probably right, 
 and one or two doubtful ones. 
 
 ' I suppose that '11 do,' he said ; ' anyhow, come 
 and lunch ; we go in again at one, don't we ? My 
 bedmaker has provided me with what she calls a 
 " nice 'am," and doesn't refuse to go to the butteries 
 for beer.' 
 
 ' Isn't that Travers coming across the grass ? ' 
 
22 Charlie Villars at Cambridge, 
 
 said Villars, doubtfully, as they walked towards 
 Marston's room. 
 
 ' 'Pon my soul, I believe it is, — fact, sir.' 
 
 Travers bad been at the same tutor's before 
 their time, and had visited the neighbourhood once 
 or twice since. The recollections he left behind 
 him were not particularly favourable. He was a 
 light-haired, coarse-looking individual, fond of sit- 
 ting in the public-house in the village, drinking 
 beer and smoking ; and used to waste his energies 
 in training hideous bull- dogs to mutilate each other's 
 persons. 
 
 Marston cared very little for him, and Villars 
 loathed him : though at the present moment they 
 both felt a certain respect for him from his superior 
 standing in the University. Besides, they had 
 heard that he was in a very good set, and therefore 
 supposed there must be something attractive in him 
 which they had not yet discovered. 
 
 ' Why, d — me, if here ain't Bob Marston and 
 Villars,' ejaculated Travers, as they gradually 
 dawned upon him : ' deuced glad to see you. How's 
 the old crib, eh ? Has the governor been up to any 
 of his old games lately ? Gad ! what a time he had 
 of it when Dick Bragge and I were in his kennel !' 
 
 After some further edifying recollections, Travers 
 left them, having extracted a promise from both 
 that they would come to supper with him that 
 evening at his rooms on the Parade. 
 
 ' I wish I'd refused,' said Villars, as they went 
 
The 'Backs. 3 23 
 
 on ; ' but I suppose it would have been rather 
 cheeky.' 
 
 'Ob, I daresay it may be very good fun/ an- 
 swered Marston ; ' perbaps Carter '11 be there ; you 
 don't know him ? Gordon told me he was up, and 
 I know he 's a friend of Travers'. He used to be a 
 very good fellow at Eton.' 
 
 At half-past three, having finished the examina- 
 tion for that day, Gordon joined them in Marston's 
 rooms, and the three proceeded on a tour of in- 
 spection to the backs of the colleges before going to 
 hall. 
 
 It was a lovely clear afternoon, and the varied 
 autumnal tints of the leaves gave additional beauty 
 to the view from Trinity Bridge. The vista of 
 weeping willows and graceful arches, which were 
 lost in the distance in a luxuriant mass of blended 
 foliage, presented a charming contrast to the narrow 
 lanes and dirty streets which were all that Yillars had 
 seen of Cambridge as yet. The sluggish, canal-like 
 Cam, too, looked less green, and smelt less foul, as it 
 sparkled in the afternoon sun, rousing the boating 
 instinct in Marston and Gordon, when their eyes 
 fell upon the flotilla of boats beside the further 
 bridge. ' Just the day for a scull,' as Marston said. 
 A pair-oared outrigger was accordingly engaged, 
 and Yillars steered. 
 
 They paddled lazily up the stream past Clare, 
 nestling by the river side ; and on to King's, where 
 they rested on their oars, and gazed upon the view. 
 It was a striking coup cVceil when seen for the first time. 
 
24 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 The rich green lawn sloping down to the river's edge ; 
 the magnificent old chapel, with its Gothic pin- 
 nacles and ornamented architecture, and the glimpse 
 of the elaborate screen beyond ; the unpretending 
 elegance of Clare to the left, and the picturesque 
 bridges and drooping willows on either side, over- 
 shadowed by patriarchal elms. Yes, it was a noble 
 view, and so the freshmen thought, as they floated 
 to the opposite bank, and lay dreamily enjoying its 
 beauties for some moments. 
 
 Marston, however, was too restless to be still for 
 long, and suggested further exploration. 
 
 Little enough was found to gratify beyond. 
 Passing under King's Bridge, the view was shut out 
 on the one side by the red brick wall of Queen's 
 coming down into the river, — on the other side a 
 strip of green turf and garden. Beyond, a mill- 
 pond, and a lock which barred further progress. 
 On their way back, Villars narrowly escaped swamp- 
 ing an unwary freshman who was paddling his 
 own canoe straight ahead, regardless of conse- 
 quences. The wretch had a squeak for it, but took 
 them for older men, and didn't dare to object. 
 
 Although rather late for hall, they found places 
 together, and went through the same scene of bear- 
 fighting, discomfort, and confusion as on the 
 previous day. 
 
25 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ' Oli. Now, sir, what make you here ? 
 ' Orl. Nothing. I am not taught to make anything. 
 1 Oli. What mar you then, sir ? 
 
 * Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God 
 made, a poor, unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.' 
 
 As you Like It. 
 
 'Viator. For my own part I smell nothing but dead 
 kittens ; for here lies a whole brood in soak.' — Hood's Whims 
 and Oddities. 
 
 On coming out of hall, Charlie was accosted by 
 another freshman who had been waiting outside 
 for him, and who returned his greeting of ' How 
 are you, Rowley ?' with a lukewarm smile, and 
 rather limp shake of the hand. 
 
 Not that he meant to be either lukewarm or 
 limp ; but it was not in Rowley's nature to be even 
 in the smallest degree gushing. He was amiable, 
 he was goodnatured, he was pleasant ; all because 
 he was neither unpleasant, disobliging, nor dis- 
 agreeable. He was inoffensive, because he was not 
 offensive ; and he was a good fellow, in so much 
 that he was not a bad fellow. He was, in fact, a 
 man of no particular character. His attractions 
 were derived from negative qualities, and his good- 
 
26 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 nature from indifference. He had no enemies, and 
 no friends. He was as incapable of hatred, as he 
 was of real love ; and was as ignorant of the enthu- 
 siasm of affection, as he was of any other strong 
 passion. Reserved almost to the extent of repelling 
 coldness, his face never gave expression to the lan- 
 guid working of his heart. The only subject which 
 could warm his countenance into life was — (don't, 
 reader, sneer at it) — cricket. He had been head of 
 his house eleven, and no mean performer in the 
 school-eleven at Harrow, and would always stick 
 up through thick and thin for the pursuit which 
 alone really interested him. 
 
 With all his coldness and apathetic reserve, he 
 was yet a man that might inspire some feeling of 
 friendship. Though his face was without expression 
 it was a pleasant one ; and those who knew it well 
 fancied that they they could detect in it at times the 
 evidence of deeper feeling below than came to the 
 surface. 
 
 Yillars had been placed in the same form with 
 him, and they had gone up the school together, 
 growing accustomed to one another, rather than 
 forming any intimate ties of friendship. Confidence, 
 of course, there had been none between them. Re- 
 serve can never attract confidence. It chills the 
 slightest approach, and at once throws it back upon 
 itself, when it is not met half-way. But there can 
 be mutual liking without that interchange of confi- 
 dence out of which true friendship springs ; and 
 upon the strength of this meagre kind of attach- 
 
Roivley. 27 
 
 ment Yillars went with Rowley to inspect his 
 rooms. 
 
 ' Charlton and Russell arc coming to tea with me 
 at nine/ said the latter, as they walked towards 
 the New Court ; ' will you come ? ' 
 
 Charlie replied that he should like nothing 
 better ; but suddenly remembered his engagement 
 to Travers. 
 
 1 What a bore ! ' he exclaimed, as the horrible 
 recollection flashed upon him ; ' I promised to go to 
 supper with another fellow (not a freshman) ; do 
 you think I could cut him ? I've a great mind to,' 
 he continued, turning over in his mind the probable 
 consequences of such a bold proceeding. 
 
 ' I will,' he said, at last, with a determined air. 
 1 I'll tell Marston to say I couldn't come.' 
 
 ' Do,' returned Rowley, quietly; 'I'll ask Ex- 
 moor to come too, when he gets away from the 
 lodge ; his father's up here with him, and he has 
 to dine there.' 
 
 Exmoor was a noble lord, and the son of a noble 
 lord, which will sufficiently account for his being 
 asked to dine immediately on his arrival. 
 
 When they had talked for some time over their 
 school days, and Yillars had heard all the latest 
 Harrow news, — Rowley having only left at Mid- 
 summer, — they wandered out to look after the ne- 
 cessary articles of furniture and other appurte- 
 nances which Charlie's landlady had told him he 
 would require. 
 
 First to Mathew and Gent's, where they found 
 
28 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 various other freshmen on the same errand, laying 
 in a stock, according to a printed list, of every kind 
 of crockery, tea and breakfast service, decanters, 
 glasses, jugs, lamps, every kind of broom — (what 
 is a carpet whisk ?) — and many other articles be- 
 sides, groceries of course included. Next, to Swan 
 and Hurr ell's, where Yillars was induced to order 
 a vast number of things which he did not require, 
 on the supposition that he might require them. 
 The more necessary articles included trays of every 
 description, coal-scuttle, knives and forks (for those 
 who had no private plate), pails of all kinds, cans 
 of every size for all sorts of impossible uses, dust- 
 pans, and a multitude of other things that one 
 would expect furnished lodgings to provide. 
 
 It invested Yillars with an increased dignity in his 
 own eyes, — this indiscriminate ordering of furniture 
 for setting up an establishment, — and he was rather 
 sorry when his shopping was exhausted. Rowley 
 had provided most of his necessaries the previous 
 day, having come up rather earlier for the purpose, 
 and now proposed that they should have a game at 
 billiards. This, after wandering about from one 
 ' Billiards ' to another for some time without getting 
 a room, they at length accomplished at Brown's ; 
 the establishment having been found with some 
 difficulty at the end of a long unpaved alley which 
 goes by the name of Ram Yard. 
 
 After working the balls for some time to their 
 satisfaction, Yillars remembered that he had not told 
 Marston to make his excuses for not going to supper. 
 
Supper with Travers. 29 
 
 Marston didn't at all fancy the idea of facing a 
 room full of old men alone, but Villars persisted. 
 ' You know I can't stand that fellow Travers, and I 
 expect his friends will be very much of the same cut.' 
 
 ' Well, hang it, ut can't be helped, I suppose,' 
 was the reply ; ' I daresay they won't eat one.' 
 
 It wasn't difficult to find Travers's rooms; the 
 row and shouting that came from them easily be- 
 trayed his whereabouts. Marston, not liking to walk 
 straight in, rang the bell, and was directed by a 
 dirty-looking maid to the room on the first floor. 
 
 He was not observed at once on opening the 
 door, as the half-dozen men in the room were con- 
 centrating their attention on a couple of white bull- 
 dogs, which at that moment were tightly locked in 
 each other's jaws. 
 
 'I'll take six to four, Dick,' said a groomy- 
 looking individual with close fitting trousers, ad- 
 dressing Travers. 
 
 ' So you shall,' returned Travers. ' Go it, my 
 beauty — stick to him — let him have it ; ' and he 
 patted his ugly favourite, which redoubled its efforts 
 to disable the other monster. 
 
 ' Hallo ! Marston,' he cried, on observing him 
 now for the first time, ' come in, don't be shy ; a par- 
 ticular pal of mine,' he continued to the rest of the 
 room, ' a devilish good sort.' 
 
 They all turned round, and Carter, recognising 
 Marston, came over and shook hands with him. 
 ' Just come up ? — In college ? — I'll come and look 
 you up.' 
 
30 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Carter had the remains of what had been the 
 look of a gentleman in his face ; but his dissipated 
 appearance and fastness of dress inspired a feeling of 
 regret rather for what he might have been, than 
 liking for what he was. 
 
 Supper now appeared, and the champagne corks 
 flew apace. 
 
 ' Have some fiz, old chap ? ' cried Travers, 
 handing to Marston a bottle from which he had 
 just drawn the cork ; ' it '11 put you in training for 
 the papers to-morrow/ 
 
 ' Pass the bottle, sir, when you've done with it,' 
 said another man on his right, — a gentleman of a 
 supremely ugly cast of countenance, and blotchy 
 withal. 
 
 ' ISTow does any one want to bet on the Cam- 
 bridgeshire ?' shouted Travers. 'I'll take eight 
 ponies about the favourite.' 
 
 ' I'll lay you eight fives if you like,' said Carter. 
 
 ' You 're on ; put it down twice if you like.' 
 
 'I'll take five to one two beat the field,' cried 
 Cunningham, he of the repulsive aspect, who was 
 known by the attractive name of ' Pimples.' 
 
 ' You be d d ! ' replied Travers, when the two 
 
 horses were named ; and he offered him two others, 
 which Cunningham rejected with equal politeness. 
 
 ' Well, I'll tell you what 111 do,' he said, 'HI 
 just lay you twenty pound to five once against the 
 paii 1 .' 
 
 'No bet, my lord,' returned Cunningham. Some 
 one else suggested that another horse he named 
 
Offensive Language. 31 
 
 would win if he was meant ; and his observation 
 was received with a shout of derision. ' He's no 
 more up to the weight than I am for that dis- 
 tance.' 
 
 The conversation proceeded in this strain, inter- 
 larded with coarse expressions, which proper feeling 
 generally teaches older men to repress in the pre- 
 sence of freshmen. Good taste, however, was un- 
 known among the present company. Carter, perhaps, 
 was a little more considerate ; the remains of a 
 better nature still lingered about him. It is not that 
 a freshman who comes up from a public school is 
 supposed to be so innocent as to be shocked at lan- 
 guage and ideas which he now hears for the first 
 time. What prompts a certain circumspection in 
 their presence is that instinctive aversion to lead in- 
 experienced youth into evil habits, which distin- 
 guishes all who are possessed of a finer sense of their 
 duty towards their neighbour, — which even exists 
 occasionally in minds the most debased. Many men 
 whose ideas are foul, and whose language corre- 
 sponds to their ideas, have yet sufficient good feeling 
 to restrain themselves in the company of others to 
 whom such conversation is intolerable. The desire 
 of avoiding the contempt of better ordered minds, of 
 appearing in a less undesirable light, may perhaps be 
 one of the moving principles of their conduct. For 
 every one knows the better, however much lie may 
 follow the worse. And though a younger man of 
 corrupt tastes may be unconsciously doing the same 
 thing himself, yet he looks with contempt upon a 
 
32 Charl ; e Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 hoary sinner who panders to the vices of youth, and 
 encourages them, by his example, to give up what 
 the inner consciousness of every man tells him is 
 the right sort of life. / 
 
 The supper things were cleared away, and 
 Marston was asked if he would play loo, but pre- 
 ferred looking on. 
 
 'It's the easiest game in the world to learn/ 
 said Travers, ' we only play three and nine, and if 
 you don't bet, you'll find it deuced hard to lose a 
 fiver/ 
 
 Marston, however, held out ; and watched the 
 money being paid into the saucer, and divided out 
 into tricks, till he was tired with the monotony, 
 poisoned with the atmosphere, and deafened with the 
 shouts of the backers of hearts and spades or other 
 suits. ' A sovereign on red ' — ' Done with you ' — 
 1 Do it again ' — ' Black for a monkey ' — ' Half a 
 couter' — 'Bight you are,' &c. He prepared there- 
 fore to say good-night. 
 
 ' Have some brandy and soda, before you go, 
 won't you ? ' cried Travers from the middle of his 
 deal. ' Good night, old chap ; ' and Marston made his 
 way down the street listening to the chinking of the 
 money and the shouts of the players, and pondering 
 over his first debauch at Cambridge. He wondered 
 whether every one talked of horses, and didn't think 
 he cared much about the men he had met. Carter, 
 too — what a different fellow he was to what he had 
 known him at Eton ! There seemed something very 
 slangy, he thought, about the whole style and tone 
 
Harroiv Friends. 33 
 
 of the party ; and when he arrived at Trinity gate 
 he also arrived at the conclusion that he had not 
 spent a very pleasant evening. 
 
 1 Hullo, Charlie ! this is luck/ he exclaimed, as 
 Villars ran against him on his way out. ' Come 
 back to my rooms for a few minutes — it isn't late ; ' 
 and as they walked back, he told him what he 
 had seen, and how he had not lost much by staying 
 away. 
 
 Villars, on the contrary, had passed a delightful 
 evening amongst old friends and old associations. 
 
 Russell had been head of his house at Harrow, 
 and was expected to be going to do great things at 
 Cambridge. He was perfectly conscious of his 
 talents, and fully determined that they should not 
 be hid under a bushel. Ambition was the ruling 
 principle of his life, but was unknown in its inten- 
 sity even to his most intimate friends. He was 
 intended for the bar after he had taken his degree, 
 and had already in his own mind gone through a 
 series of scholarship, first class, fellowship, Queen's 
 Counsel, &c, &c, till he had pictured himself on the 
 woolsack looking down with well-earned satisfaction 
 upon his baffled pursuers. He could, however, veil 
 his mighty purpose behind a light overcoat of 
 genial good fellowship, and could lay ambition aside 
 to take part in the amusements of ordinary men. 
 He had the good sense to know that by cultivating 
 social qualities, and mixing eon anion 1 in the 
 pursuits of his fellows, he was much more likely to 
 promote his ambitious ends than if he turned book- 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 worm and prig, and affected to be superior to those 
 attractive qualities which form the steps upon the 
 ladder to eminence. 
 
 Charlton was a very different kind of creature. 
 He was the sort of man who always likes to do the 
 ' correct ' thing, and to have his cigars and wine 
 from the ' correct ' place ; who talks of men ' about 
 town/ and is well acquainted with the most fashion- 
 able frailties of the Argyll Rooms and Cremorne. 
 He had not been much appreciated by any of the 
 others at school ; but the fact of having been at school 
 together implies a community of interest which 
 begets a kind of freemasonry among freshmen at 
 the universities, although they may have hardly 
 known each other before. 
 
 Exmoor was a very fair specimen of the young 
 gentleman who knows that he will not have to exert 
 himself to live, and who therefore in most cases 
 thinks it unnecessary to pay any attention to the 
 cultivation of his brain — a good-natured, pleasant 
 nincompoop, without any particular ideas making 
 themselves obtrusively apparent. 
 
 When the examination and luncheon were over 
 next day, Marston, who was all anxiety to know 
 something of the way in which boating was con- 
 ducted at Cambridge, persuaded Villars to come 
 down to the river and get a boat. 
 
 Picking up Gordon on their way, they pro- 
 ceeded through Ram Yard and Park Street, and 
 emerged upon Midsummer Common ; where they 
 saw in the distance a variety of curious erections, 
 
The Gam. 35 
 
 which, from the proximity of ' Searle, Boatbuilder,' 
 they conjectured might be boat-houses. Nor were 
 they wrong ; though, considering that no river was 
 visible in the immediate neighbourhood, it was a 
 rash conjecture. Doubts began to arise as they 
 approached the buildings, and still no river was to 
 be seen ; till at length, when they were within two 
 hundred yards of it — like the sea to the remnant of 
 Xenophon's Ten Thousand — the river broke upon 
 their delighted gaze. Its broad surface, of thirty 
 feet or so, gleamed in the bright sun as it rolled 
 its stately course along, while on its swelling 
 bosom many a proud outrigger was preparing for a 
 start. 
 
 ' You don't mean to say this is where they 
 row?' exclaimed Gordon. 
 
 ' Can't be,' said Marston : ' I always heard it 
 was a smallish place, but this isn't much better than 
 a ditch.' 
 
 ' After the Thames, too ! ' 
 
 They found from a loafer on the bank, that it 
 was but too true, and that boats might be hired on 
 the other side. They crossed over accordingly by 
 the ferry, and were soon spinning along towards 
 Barnwell ; Villars having, after much pressure, 
 been persuaded to steer. 
 
 Although the undergraduates generally were 
 not to return till Monday, there was a fair sprink- 
 ling of men upon the bank, and boats going down 
 the river. Among these, Gordon and Marston, from 
 their superior style of rowing (which was much 
 
36 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 above the ordinary freshman cut), soon attracted 
 attention, Gordon especially, from having rowed 
 stroke of the Eton boat that year at Henley, and 
 they consequently received^any nods of recognition 
 as they passed. When they approached the railway 
 bridge, the eights began to thicken, and Charlie be- 
 came anxious to turn ; not feeling up to steering in 
 such a crowd, and having already got pretty con- 
 siderably sworn at by a coxswain for not drawing to 
 one side to let his boat pass. Coxswains are little 
 despots in their several boats, no man under their 
 charge disputes their authority, and if any unfor- 
 tunate sculler gets in their way they are not at all 
 particular about swamping him. That a freshman, 
 whom he holds in the most supreme contempt, should 
 stop his progress, justifies, in his opinion, any kind 
 of language. 
 
 It was no easy matter to keep from fouling other 
 boats round those narrow corners, where it was 
 ' Easy all/ every minute, ' Pull a stroke, bow,' 
 ' Mind your oars, stroke- side,' and a general con- 
 fusion of coxswains' tongues. However, Villars 
 managed to get them back without serious misad- 
 venture, and vowed that he wouldn't steer again if 
 he was paid for it. Marston and Gordon found 
 themselves, on landing, in the middle of a host of 
 Eton men, who looked upon them with the eyes of 
 connoisseurs as great acquisitions to the boating in- 
 terest. With some of these they walked up to the 
 town, Villars listening in silence to the boating 
 reminiscences with which they beguiled the way : 
 
Third Trinity. 37 
 
 and one, Brooke, of the University eight, haying 
 engaged Marston and Gordon to come to tea in 
 the evening, they separated to change for hall. 
 
 There were three or four other men in Brooke's 
 room when the two freshmen arrived, some of whom 
 they were unacquainted with — Westminster men — 
 but who belonged to the third Trinity boat club, the 
 great rallying point of Eton men. To this club 
 Marston was informed that they would be elected 
 when the rest of the men came up. 
 
 Third Trinity consists exclusively of Eton and 
 Westminster men, who hang together very closely 
 (the former especially), from old associations. 
 Generally too, whether it is from the independent 
 spirit natural to a body of public- school men, or 
 because they fancy that coming from Eton they 
 should command attention, they have a proper 
 respect for themselves, and are not partial to any 
 institution which affects a superiority. They form 
 a decided set in the University, and in Trinitj T , 
 which to a Trinity man one may almost say is the 
 University — and owing to their having most of the 
 rowing talent of Eton and Westminster, the only 
 two rowing schools, they naturally turn out a su- 
 perior boat, and frequently head the river ; this, 
 however, is by the way. 
 
 The freshmen listened in deferential silence to 
 the conversation of these great men, and heard 
 presently, when the subject changed for a moment 
 from boating to Newmarket, that a jockey had been 
 killed the day before — thrown and dragged by his 
 
38 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 horse — some one had said. (The .Newmarket 2d 
 October meeting had been going on that week.) 
 
 Shortly after, Brooke asked what Thornton, one 
 of the University eight, had come up for, and Mars- 
 ton hearing that it was for the 'post-mortem, 5 
 thought it a good opportunity to make a remark, 
 and asked whether they had brought him to Cam- 
 bridge. 
 
 ' Who ? ' said Brooke. 
 
 ' The jockey : isn't the " post-mortem " about 
 him?' 
 
 Every one except Gordon burst into a shout of 
 laughter, for what reason Marston couldn't quite 
 understand, till Brooke explained that the 'post- 
 mortem' was a re-examination for the Little Go, 
 for men who had been 'ploughed' the term before, 
 (it was to this Yillars had tried to go on his first 
 morning). The unlucky freshman felt that he had 
 made rather an ass of himself, but thought, not 
 unnaturally, that the mistake was excusable enough. 
 He, however, wisely determined in future to let doubt- 
 ful points unfold themselves gradually, so as to avoid 
 putting his foot in it again by rash questions. 
 
 The time passed so quickly in listening to ac- 
 counts of splendid bumps (which the uninitiated 
 must know, do not mean glorious bruises), and the 
 rowing over again of exciting races in which they 
 had just bumped the Hall (Trinity Hall) on the 
 post ; or hearing how splendidly Smith steered 
 round Ditton Corner ; how awfully done Brown 
 was ; how somebody else couldn't be made to train, 
 
Boating * Shop.' 39 
 
 &c. &c, that twelve o'clock surprised the out of 
 college men when they were only just warming to 
 their work, and they had to hurry off to get out in 
 time. 
 
 1 ... so ev'n 
 And morning chorus sang the Second Day.' 
 
40 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ' But when lie (Lord Buckram) went to the university, 
 crowds of toadies sprawled over him. The tutors toadied 
 him ; the fellows in hall paid him clumsy compliments ; the 
 dean never remarked his absence from chapel, or heard any 
 noise issuing from his rooms.' — Thackeray. 
 
 ' But let my due feet never fail 
 To walk the studious cloister's pale ; 
 And love the high embowed roof, 
 "With antic pillars massy proof, 
 And storied windows richly dight, 
 Casting a dim religious light.' — 11 Penseroso. 
 
 The term not having regularly commenced, there 
 was only one chapel on the following morning, 
 Sunday, at eight o'clock. Experienced friends 
 having told Yillars and Marston that they would 
 not be expected to attend this, they breakfasted 
 together in the latter's rooms at half-past nine. 
 
 The kettle was hissing on the fire when Yillars 
 arrived, and Marston's gyp was superintending the 
 preparation of the breakfast-table, while his bed- 
 maker looked after the eggs upon the fire. Hot 
 meat is not sent out — or, in fact, any meat — from 
 the kitchens on Sunday, except on an cegrotat order 
 for dinner. 
 
Trumpington Street. 41 
 
 At eleven o'clock they went to church ; and 
 when Rowley turned up in Yillars' room after 
 luncheon, and their cigars — or pipe, in Marston's 
 case — had been finished, they started together 
 for a walk up Trumpington Street. 
 
 ' The proper thing to do on Sunday,' Marston 
 said ; ( every one turns out, it's like " the High " at 
 Oxford.' (A freshman's idea.) 
 
 The mixed congregation of undergraduates and 
 townspeople were coming out from hearing the 
 University sermon at St. Mary's as they passed; 
 and the imposing forms and gowns of the Heads of 
 Houses as they strutted by with their wives on their 
 arms struck terror into the freshman mind. The 
 absurdity, however, of some of the smaller speci- 
 mens, pompous inflations, who tried with their short 
 legs and pursy bodies to ape the dignity of their 
 more stately peers, dispelled very soon the feeling 
 of awe which the appearance of some was calculated 
 to inspire. I am not sure, after all, that in most 
 cases it was not the full-sleeved rustling silk gown 
 and the miimpeachable white choker and severe 
 mortar-board that originated the feeling ; for there 
 is very little natural dignity among the race of dons. 
 When the crowd had dispersed, the trio continued 
 their way, inspecting as they went the exterior of 
 the Senate House and Library, admiring the fine 
 effect of King's Chapel, without knowing anything 
 about its architecture, or the impropriety of the 
 graceful screen that hides the ugly buildings within; 
 past the Bull Hotel, with its long balcony entwined 
 
42 ChaHie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 with a mass of red geranium ; past the Pitt Press 
 (where all the University papers, &c. are printed), 
 which, as is usual with freshmen, they supposed from 
 its form to be a church ; /just glancing at Cat's 
 (familiar for St. Catherine's College) and Corpus ; 
 admiring the front of the Fitzwilliam Museum 
 further on, and gradually emerging into the coun- 
 try. Here they had liberty to turn their attention 
 to the different groups of undergraduates, dons, 
 masters and their wives, landladies and their hus- 
 bands, shopkeepers and their families, slavies and 
 their swains, who were streaming along the road 
 towards Trumpington, or were returning from their 
 Sunday walk. 
 
 Finding from a milestone, after going a short 
 way down the road, that it was still two miles to that 
 place, and seeing that hall time was approaching, 
 they turned and joined the tide that was setting 
 back. Hall on Sundays in term time is at five 
 o'clock for freshmen and questionists, or fourth-year 
 men, and four o'clock for second and third-year men, 
 instead of half-past five and half-past four on week 
 days. Such an hour to dine ! 
 
 They met Gordon going in, and managed to 
 secure places together at the far end of the right- 
 hand table, where they had sat the day before ; so 
 that the marker, and the porters who walk up and 
 down between the rows of freshmen to acquire a 
 knowledge of their faces and names, recognised them 
 almost as old friends. One of them rather shut up 
 Marston, who had asked if he thought he should 
 
Sizing. 43 
 
 know him again, by reptying with a grin that it 
 wouldn't be easy to forget a face like his, and 
 passed on chuckling at the laughter his repartee 
 had produced from the others. 
 
 ' By Jove ! ' cried Marston, recovering his compo- 
 sure at the sight, ' there's a fellow with soup over 
 there, how did he get it ? ' 
 
 1 Not that the soup was either rich or rare, 
 But he wonder'd how the devil it got there.' 
 
 The mystery was explained by a greasy waiter, 
 who told them that he could ' size ' for soup if he 
 wished. 
 
 1 What the deuce does he mean by " sizing ? *" 
 
 'Paying extra for it, I suppose/ suggested one 
 of the others. 
 
 ' All right, then, old gentleman, let's have some 
 soup. You'll have some soup, Charlie? Soup for 
 two.' 
 
 The old gentleman apostrophised inquired their 
 names, which he took to the kitchen, and brought 
 back in return two plates of very thick hare soup, 
 and gratuitously informed the party generally that 
 they might ' size ' for ale, vegetables, sauces, sugar, 
 cheese, celery, &c, &c. ; in fact, that if they liked 
 to make their dinner eatable by paying extra, they 
 were at liberty to do so ; every facility being afforded 
 bv the authorities of the College for the further en- 
 richment of the cook at the expense of the under- 
 graduates. 
 
 Most of the enumerated delicacies Marston made 
 
44 Charlie Villars at Cambridge, 
 
 trial of, cheese excepted, as lie observed no one else 
 indulging in that luxury, and had not the face to sit 
 out the rest of the table, most of whom had already 
 left the hall. More particularly, too, as his seat was 
 very close to the fellows' table ; where Exmoor was 
 to be seen looking intensely bored on the left hand 
 of the Master. 
 
 Exmoor had gone up as a nobleman, and seats 
 are reserved for them (now only on Sundays) next 
 to the Master, in order that he and they may most 
 effectually bore each other. His new black silk 
 gown with its full sleeves, and his proximity to the 
 prodigy of learning at the head of the table, invested 
 him with a reflected dignity which in no wise had 
 its origin in the individual himself. 
 
 It is a much-disputed point whether there ought 
 to be a difference drawn between noblemen and sons 
 of peers, who go up as hat fellow-commoners, and 
 the ordinary pensioners at the Universities. It is 
 thought by many that it is an objectionable practice, 
 and that the same equality should be maintained as 
 at the public schools. But, when boys leave school 
 and come to the University, they are apt to consider 
 themselves, and be considered as men ; so that it is 
 not unnatural that they should begin there to take 
 the position among their contemporaries to which 
 their birth entitles them. Precedence is always 
 given to rank in society, and is not considered in- 
 vidious (except by those who uphold a general 
 levelling of all ranks) ; why not then at the Univer- 
 sities, where men are old enough to take their 
 
Noblemen and Felloiv-Commoners. 45 
 
 proper place in the world ? It may be said that 
 there is a chance of the ingenuous youth, when 
 dressed in more gorgeous array than his fellows, 
 being carried away by an exaggerated idea of his 
 own importance, and spoilt by the flattery which the 
 superiority of his position attracts. But the theory 
 of course, is that by the time they come to college 
 they have arrived to a certain extent at years of dis- 
 cretion, and that the mind has acquired a steadiness 
 capable of resisting the impression of self-importance 
 to which extreme youth would be more liable to 
 succumb. It is also thought that separating them 
 in this way is an incitement to the undue cultivation 
 of the budding lord by his equals in age. As long as 
 England is England, there seems to be no likelihood 
 of the genus 'snob' becoming extinct; and the in- 
 dividual in whose breast the feelings of the snob are 
 uppermost, will toady, and flatter, and prostrate 
 himself before any miserable idiot of a lordling, just 
 because he is a lordling, whether he is dressed in 
 gold lace or in serge. The ceremonious observance 
 of rank (which it would be a monstrous pity to do 
 away with), is in itself unobjectionable. It is toady- 
 ism, tuft-hunting, and grovelling habits of that 
 nature, practised by men to whom experience and 
 cultivation of mind ought to have taught better 
 things, that turn a mere punctilio into an abuse, 
 and are apt to create in an ill-constituted mind the 
 airs and affectation of the parvenu. 
 
 The case of cap fellow-commoners is very dif- 
 ferent. They are an objectionable institution. 
 
46 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Why should one commoner, because he chooses 
 to increase the college funds by extra fees, be 
 dressed up in silver lace, implying a distinction 
 between himself and other commoners, where no 
 difference of rank exists ? It may be well enough 
 that an elderly man coming up to take a degree 
 should have some such means of separating himself 
 from the younger undergraduates with whom he 
 can have little in common. But that a man of the 
 ordinary undergraduate age and commoner rank 
 should be allowed to suggest a feeling of inferiority 
 (however slight) to his equals in age and position, 
 is as objectionable in principle as it is to some 
 sensitive — perhaps morbidly sensitive — minds, dis- 
 agreeable in practice. The assertion or implication 
 of superiority, for which there is no ground, is 
 always irritating ; and the feeling which may arise 
 while walking with a cap fellow-commoner is much 
 the same as that which may occur to any individual 
 on foot at Newmarket talking to a friend who is 
 looking down upon him from the temporary eleva- 
 tion of a hack. 
 
 While we have been engaged in this digression, 
 Yillars and Rowley have been carried off by Charlton 
 to his rooms in the New Court, to smoke a cigar 
 and drink a glass of claret before chapel. 
 
 Charlton was rather proud of his wine, and 
 thought he knew something about it. He apologised 
 for the claret not being quite settled : it had only 
 just been unpacked, and he was afraid it might be a 
 little sick. It was first-rate wine though, he said, 
 
Charlton ' at Home,' 47 
 
 and came direct from his father's wine-merchant. 
 He also produced several boxes of cigars from 
 Benson's, recommending the Regalias, as the others 
 required keeping a little longer. He also showed 
 them with some pride a large mahogany case fitted 
 up with partitions, and filled with different kinds of 
 cigars, which were getting into smoking order. 
 1 There are some here,' he said, pointing to some 
 extra-sized ones, ' that I 've had for a year and 
 a half; they're almost fit to smoke — there' (pinch- 
 ing one between his finger and thumb), ' try that 
 one — you don't often get a cigar like that/ 
 
 ' Excellent ! ' said Villars, puffing away with 
 much satisfaction. ' You get them in London, I 
 suppose.' 
 
 ' Benson's,' replied Charlton, with an air of 
 matter-of-course indifference, ' and I don't get them 
 for nothing either, I can tell you.' 
 
 ' I daresay not/ said Villars, hiding the slightest 
 possible smile behind a little yolume of smoke. 
 
 Notwithstanding Charlton's praise, the cigars 
 were really good tobacco, and the three continued 
 to smoke till the chapel-bell warned them to go in 
 search of their surplices. 
 
 The evening chapel is generally crowded, and 
 the freshman likes to get in early, or he has to walk 
 up and down the aisle looking for a place under the 
 criticising eyes of the whole chapel. Sometimes a 
 freshman, overcome by the situation, and not seeing 
 an}' convenient opening for a young man, throws 
 himself in a fit of desperation and shyness upon the 
 
48 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 nearest knee, and forces himself down between it 
 and the neighbouring one, to their joint disgust. 
 
 Another, perhaps, wanders up into the seats 
 apportioned to the higher powers, where he remains, 
 regardless of the suppressed titter of the congrega- 
 tion, till some one suggests to him, ' Friend, go 
 down lower/ and one of the chapel functionaries 
 finds him a lower place. 
 
 Service begins at a quarter past six, and before 
 the clock struck six Yillars and Rowley had taken up 
 their position outside the door among the crowd of 
 expectant freshmen, and the few older men who like 
 to get back seats, with something to lean against. 
 
 The doors opened, and the white crowd poured 
 in. The ante-chapel was soon filled with huriying 
 feet, some men in gowns making for the little 
 room at the side for their surplices, and the others 
 pressing forward through the narrow door-way 
 under the organ into the chapel. The freshmen 
 were directed to take their seats on the left-hand 
 side, and the forms were in a few minutes com- 
 pletely occupied with rustling new surplices, inno- 
 cent of washing. 
 
 Yillars and Rowley had contrived to get seats 
 together at the back, and were amused and inter- 
 ested till the service commenced in recognising old 
 acquaintances and watching the different faces as 
 they passed up the aisle — some shyly conscious, 
 some, easily indifferent, others as though they were 
 monarch 3 of all they surveyed, aud a few giving a 
 last turn to their hair for effect. 
 
Sunday Evening Chapel. 49 
 
 Their e}^cs wandered now and then after some 
 older-looking man into the upper row of seats which 
 is set apart for the fellows ; or up into the far end 
 of the chancel (which is known as ' Iniquity 
 Corner,' from being behind the reading-desks) ; 
 resting for a moment upon the altar and the large 
 picture which surmounts it, dimly seen through 
 the subdued light of half- -dozen lamps and two 
 rows of thin economical candles. 
 
 Villars was speculating on the probable position 
 of the persons who were to occupy the raised desks 
 above the choristers, when the organ struck up and 
 the Master entered, marshalled into his curtained 
 stall on the right of the door, by the attendant 
 satellite, who, from his saturnine expression, goes 
 by the name of Mephistopheles. He was followed by 
 two other dignitaries (they seemed such through 
 the reverent haze of freshman awe), who took 
 possession of the raised desks aforesaid, and were, 
 as Charlie afterwards found out, the Senior and 
 Junior Dean. 
 
 It was a curious and impressive sight, that 
 closely-packed mass of white-clothed men, some 
 with beards and whiskers looking like fathers of 
 families, and others without a sign of down upon 
 their cheeks, who might have just left home for the 
 first time. The stern voices of the deans heard 
 above the intoned responses of the choir, and the 
 air of discipline which prevailed throughout (har- 
 monising, in Villars' mind, with any notions he 
 had previously formed of monastic life), combined 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 to produce a strange but not unpleasant sense of 
 novelty ; of having entered upon an entirely dif- 
 ferent kind of life from any of which, he had before 
 had experience. And when/ the deep tones of the 
 organ in the dim and subdued light, — or rather, the 
 half-lighted gloom, — rolled forth through the sur- 
 rounding silence the soft prelude of the anthem, a 
 reverential feeling of solemnity crept over him, 
 which inspired with a devotional earnestness his 
 utterance of the concluding prayers. 
 
 There was no sermon, which, in his present 
 state of mind, he was sorry for ; disappointed that 
 the service which had called forth such unusual 
 sensations was so soon concluded. 
 
 The whole congregation remained standing when 
 the prayers were over, while the Master descended 
 from his stall, gave his arm to his wife, and left the 
 chapel, followed by Exmoor and another nobleman, 
 who sat on the Master's right hand and had velvet 
 cushions for their prayer-books. They were fol- 
 lowed by the Yice-Master from his stall on the left 
 of the door, the senior Fellows and junior Fellows, 
 the rear being brought up by the Chaplain. After 
 him came, en masse, the bachelors and scholars from 
 the lower row of seats, and the undergraduates, in a 
 confused multitude, raising a cloud of dust, crowd- 
 ing, crushing, and jostling through the door into 
 the ante-chapel, while the organ pealed out some 
 grand and stirring march or selection from an 
 oratorio. 
 
 Many lingered in the ante- chapel to listen — some 
 
Sunday Evening Chapel. 51 
 
 stayed to meet their friends, or to look at the fresh- 
 men, coming out ; and there was a confused hum of 
 voices audible through the crash of the organ, till 
 its music ceased, and the echoes died away in the far 
 corners of the building. The crowd dispersed, the 
 doors were shut, the white surplices disappeared by 
 degrees, under the fitful glare of the lamps, into the 
 sombre gloom of the distant court : and the fresh- 
 man's first Sunday evening chapel was over. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF "" M{MC 
 
52 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 '" Quis leget haec 1 " Min' tu istud ais ? Nemo hercule, nemo, 
 Yel duo vel nemo/ * — Persius. 
 
 'Nempe hsec assidue.'f — Ibid. 
 
 On the following day, those who had got through 
 the matriculation examination were informed that 
 they had passed, and found from a notice on the 
 screens (the partition between the hall and the pass- 
 age which divides it from the butteries, &c, where 
 all college notices are posted), that they were to meet 
 their tutors in their several lecture-rooms the next 
 morning at nine o'clock. As this Monday was the 
 last day for coming back without losing the term, 
 nearly every one had returned before the evening, 
 and Trinity was itself again. Par parenthhse it 
 may be mentioned that ' losing the term ' means 
 having one term deducted from the time which it is 
 necessary to keep before taking a degree. Terms 
 may be lost in various ways, either by not coming 
 back at the appointed time, not keeping the required 
 number of days in residence, or not keeping weeks 
 
 * ' Who'll read this 1 ' Do you ask me ? No one, I should 
 think ; or at most one or two. 
 t It's always the way. 
 
Keeping Terms. 53 
 
 in hall. To keep a term the University requires an 
 undergraduate to reside in Cambridge for so many 
 days during that term, and if he falls short of this 
 number by one, he loses the term, and it can only 
 be restored by a grace of the Senate. 
 
 The college expects each undergraduate to appear 
 in hall on four days in every week besides Sunday 
 (not necessarily to dine, but to be marked), and in 
 the event of his not keeping the proper number of 
 days, he loses the week, which is then deducted from 
 the number of weeks required to keep the college 
 term. The Dean is generally willing to restore these 
 lost weeks, if any plausible excuse can be presented 
 for losing them, and frequently without such excuse ; 
 so that a University term is not often lost in this 
 way. It is hopeless to attempt to convey to any 
 person unacquainted with the Universities any idea 
 of how the independent system of the colleges is con- 
 nected and interwoven with the general supervision 
 of the University. 
 
 For instance, the University October term be- 
 gins on the first day of the month ; Magdalen, St. 
 John's, and others, begin the college term about the 
 6th, and Trinity about the 13th or 14th. 
 
 College terms are regulated by lectures, which, 
 however, always begin and end within the Univer- 
 sity term. In some colleges, undergraduates are 
 allowed to come ivp before the lectures begin, and 
 go down before they are over, if the number of days 
 required by the University has been kept. It is not 
 so in Trinity, where, unless for some special reason, 
 
54 CharHe Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 no one is allowed to go down till lectures and the 
 slight examination, which generally ends them, are 
 over. Noblemen, and sons of noblemen, for some 
 unaccountable reason, are allowed to take a degree 
 after seven terms, instead of the nine to which the 
 ordinary mortal is condemned. 
 
 This, however, is about enough of an uninter- 
 esting subject, which the outside world cannot ex- 
 pect to understand. 
 
 I have said, I think, that Trinity by Monday 
 evening was itself again, and Mrs. Litchfield very 
 busy providing dinner for each fresh arrival. Litch- 
 field's is one of the old-established institutions of 
 Cambridge, where soup, and a chop, or grilled fowl, 
 may be had at five minutes' notice, nominally, for 
 half-a-crown. Being close to Trinity and St. 
 John's, in All Saints' Passage, to any one wanting 
 dinner in a hurry, and not caring much about com- 
 fort, it is convenient enough. Old Litchfield was 
 in his life a public character — (I should not other- 
 wise make so free with his name in print), — and a 
 curious character too. There was something very 
 entertaining in the easy familiarity with which he 
 treated all his customers, and talked, when drawn 
 out, about all the men he had known in his day, 
 calling noble dukes by their bare titles, and re- 
 counting stories of the fun that he and they had 
 had together years ago. It is asserted, too, that he 
 travelled in sumptuous state on the Continent in the 
 borrowed dignity of his noble namesake's title, ac- 
 companied by a friend who had taken a similar flight 
 
Tutor's Levee. .'>"> 
 
 into the region of baronets. His follies, however, 
 are buried with him, and only the remembrance of 
 his better parts remain — a remembrance which is 
 refreshed at times by the obliging courtesy and 
 deferential readiness to oblige which characterise 
 his widow. 
 
 Villars was punctual in his attendance at Mr. 
 Wood's levee next morning, and had the satisfaction 
 of hearing an excellent and short lecture, on the 
 necessity of attending to college discipline, &c, &c. 
 He also heard that the freshmen were to have a 
 classical and mathematical lecture every day of the 
 week except Saturday, the latter at nine o'clock in 
 the morning, and the former at ten. He heard 
 much in explanation of college rules, was recom- 
 mended to engage a private tutor, and was even- 
 tually dismissed with the good impression he had 
 previously formed of his tutor still further strength- 
 ened. He found that the name of his quondam 
 right-hand neighbour had been changed, and con- 
 cluded correctly that the examiners had been pleased 
 to be dissatisfied with the elementary nature of 
 his papers. 
 
 On returning to his room he found his arm-chair 
 tenanted by a respectable-looking, commercial-tra- 
 veller kind of man with a portfolio. This indivi- 
 dual, in reply to his look of surprise, informed him in 
 the blandest of tones that he had called to solicit his 
 patronage for a work of art which he was now 
 bringing out in numbers — an Illustrated History of 
 England. If he would allow him, he woidd have 
 
56 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 the honour of showing him a specimen. Whereupon, 
 without further delay, he produced from the portfolio 
 a number of the work in question, dilating with con- 
 scious pride upon the superior style in which it was 
 got up ; the expediency of Charlie's entering his 
 name at once before all the numbers were ordered, 
 that he might make a certainty of securing a copy ; 
 and above all, dwelling upon the satisfaction lie 
 should feel in having Mr. Villars' name in his book. 
 He would show him a list of the subscribers ; Mr. 
 Yillars would doubtless be acquainted with seme of 
 them. Ah ! that was Mr. Yillars' father, was it ? — 
 (as Charlie pointed to his own father's name in the 
 book), he had no idea tbat he had been so much 
 honoured already. Finding the respectability of the 
 individual so substantially vouched for, Yillars added 
 his name to the list of victims, and became a patron 
 of Smith's new Illustrated History of England, in 
 monthly numbers, price half-a-guinea. Amid a pro- 
 fusion of bows and thanks for his kind favour, port- 
 folio and man disappeared, carrying with them the 
 subscription for the five months already published, 
 and Charlie heard no more of his history ; that is, 
 no more numbers ever turned up, owing, as the pub- 
 lishers asserted, to financial difficulties, &c, &c. He 
 afterwards found that the insertion of his father's 
 name was nothing but a barefaced imposition. 
 
 Freshmen, beware of Encyclopaedia and Illus- 
 trated History mongers ; once encouraged, they will 
 never let you alone ; their pertinacity is something 
 astonishing ; if they see a symptom of yielding, they 
 
First Trinity. 57 
 
 don't leave the room till you are booked, and will 
 probably put others upon your track when you have 
 got rid of them. 
 
 It is a harmless spite, and a simple plan of get- 
 ting them out of the room, to give the addresses of 
 your most objectionable friends, who are much given 
 to good works of this nature, and will undoubtedly 
 take a far greater interest in their success than you 
 yourself feel. 
 
 Not long after the departure of this illustrated 
 fiend, Yillars had a visit from Thornton (the same 
 man whom Mafston had supposed to be going to 
 preside over the jockey's ' post-mortem '). He was a 
 distinguished representative of Harrow and the first 
 Trinity boat club in the University eight, and offered 
 to put Yillars up for first Trinity ; explaining to 
 him that it differed from third Trinity, in being 
 composed of men of any school or none ; Eton and 
 Westminster of course excepted. It was the club 
 to belong to, he said, for Yillars, as second Trinity 
 was a poor one, consisting of very few members, 
 mostly sizars and reading men. Charlie professed 
 himself anxious to become a member, and thought it 
 very kind of Thornton proposing his good offices in 
 his behalf. After a little further conversation on 
 Harrow and commonplace topics, Thornton's call 
 came to an end, much to Charlie's relief, as he had 
 never had more than a slight acquaintance with 
 him, and wondered whether all equally slight ac- 
 quaintanceships would be renewed in a similar way. 
 
 Instinctively he rose to examine his outer door, 
 
58 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 and found to his regret, that the bolt was useless 
 for sporting purposes. I suppose most of the world 
 knows that ' sporting ' means bolting or otherwise 
 securing one's door. / 
 
 Some two or three days afterwards he received 
 a printed notice from the honorary secretary of first 
 Trinity, announcing his election, and requiring him 
 to pay some four pounds odd entrance and subscrip- 
 tion. Having paid this up, he thought it his duty 
 to take it out in rowing, and accordingly went with 
 Marston, who had in the meantime been made a 
 member of third Trinity, to Clark's the hosier's, where 
 they proceeded to rig themselves out in the neces- 
 sary costume. First there was a cap, — first Trinity, 
 dark blue ; third, blue and white stripes, — then, thin 
 jerseys, woollen jerseys, mufflers, trousers with 
 swan's-down seats for the protection of the nether 
 person ; a light flannel coat ; and a rough boating 
 coat or pea-jacket, which the tailor was to supply. 
 When all these articles had been procured, Villars 
 promised to lunch with Marston and go down after- 
 wards to row, well pleased at the prospect of appear- 
 ing in his new get-up. Marston, when they ar- 
 rived at the boat-houses, was piloted to the third 
 Trinity quarters, and Thornton took Villars under 
 his wing to the first Trinity boat-house. There 
 was a slate in the dressing-room for the names of 
 those who wished to row, and on this, accordingly, 
 Charlie entered his name. Rowley was there 
 too, looking like himself, fresh as paint ; but fate 
 had not destined them to row in the same boat. 
 
A Freshmen s Eight. 59 
 
 Yillars heard his name called out with seven other 
 devils, probably worse than himself, and took his 
 place in the boat, No. 3, being moderately light. 
 No. 5, a heavy-looking individual, soon after lum- 
 bered into the boat, and putting his foot on the 
 side, all but swamped the whole crew. An old 
 oar was going to cox and coach them down, and 
 when every one was settled, the boat was quietly 
 pushed off from the bank, and they took off their 
 mufflers. 
 
 ' Get ready all ! ' cried the coxswain. ' Keep 
 your oar on the water, 5 ; you'll upset the boat ! — 
 How on, all ! ' and every oar made an attempt at a 
 stroke. The first was all very well, but to get two 
 together consecutively was quite another thing. 
 Half the eight at least had never rowed in an out- 
 rigger before, and didn't feel comfortable on their 
 seats ; much less, sufficiently at home to give their 
 attention to the time, or any other of the equally 
 unimportant details of rowing. 
 
 1 Easy, all ! ' shouted the coxswain in despair. 
 ' Every one look at the man before him and mind 
 the time.' ' Eyes in the boat ! get ready ! Row on, 
 all !' and Charlie thought his backbone was broken by 
 a vigorous die: which the energetic individual be- 
 hind gave him on his wav forward for another 
 stroke, equally short as the last. By fits and starts 
 they managed to get on past Barnwell Pool, that 
 miasmal resort of defunct cats, where the large 
 frame and presumable strength of No. 5, attracted 
 the attention of a man in a black and white straw 
 
60 Charhe Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 hat and blue coat on the bank, who ran alongside 
 shouting : — 
 
 ' Hold your back up, 5 ! feel your stretcher, 5 ! ' 
 
 As 5 didn't like to let go his oar to see that his 
 stretcher was all right, he pretended not to have 
 heard the ^oice upon the bank, and turned his atten- 
 tion to the coxswain's recommendation, 'Straighten 
 your arms, 5.' These continual reflections upon 
 his general carriage he felt to be becoming rather 
 annoying ; and the latter he was particularly in- 
 clined to resent from inability to comply with it ; 
 one arm having been injured in early youth in such 
 a manner, that for years it had never got beyond an 
 angle of seventy or seventy-five in the direction of 
 a straight line. He determined, however, to bear 
 it patiently, not knowing what horrible breach of 
 etiquette he might be committing if he spoke. 
 
 As they neared the railway bridge, and the crowd 
 of boats became closer, the various cries of ' "Well 
 rowed, bow ; ' ' Easy, all ; ' ' Feel your stretchers ; ' 
 ' Don't sink your oar so deep, 5 ; ' ' Mind the time ; ' 
 ' Row on, all ; ' ' Oars bow side ; ' ' Catch it at the 
 beginning ;' &c, blended into a curious mosaic, from 
 which and the confusion of boats they extricated 
 themselves with difficulty, and, marvellous to relate, 
 got home again without upsetting. 
 
 Villars had not at all relished being put into a 
 boat with a lot of men he didn't know, and being 
 sworn at from the bank by equally unknown blue 
 coats ; but supposed it must be one of the manners 
 and customs of the place, and therefore all right. 
 
Whist. 61 
 
 That didn't, however, reconcile him to it ; and even 
 the impassive Rowley agreed with him that it was 
 rather objectionable. They separated at Trinity 
 Gate, after Villars had promised to go and play 
 whist in the evening. 
 
 He found Charlton and Russell there when he 
 arrived at nine o'clock, already engaged in the dis- 
 cussing of sundry dishes from the kitchens, which the 
 new-born sense of having an independent establish- 
 ment prompts the freshman frequently to order. 
 
 They cut for partners when tea was over, and 
 Yillars and Russell played together. 
 
 * I hope you won't be extreme to mark what I 
 do amiss,' said the former. 
 
 ' Oh, I'm not a swell,' returned Russell ; ' Charl- 
 ton is, I believe.' 
 
 And Charlton rather thought he was, although 
 he denied it ; in such a way, though, as to mean 
 1 You're quite correct.' 
 
 ' Any one have a cigar ? ' he said, handing his 
 case round. 
 
 He was always liberal with his cigars, because 
 he prided himself on their excellence, and liked 
 that it should be generally known. 
 
 ' It's you to lead, Charlton,' said Russell, who 
 didn't smoke. 
 
 'Is it? — hum' — (looking important) 'what's a 
 fellow to lead with such a hand ? '— (this with a sly 
 smile, as much as to say, ' I'll put them off the 
 scent.') 'What are trumps?' (innocently) 'Ah! I Bee; 
 spades — well, there you are' (leading an ordinary 
 
62 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 little card as if it involved the most knowing ruse). 
 'Play to that — king — good' (as if all the tricks that 
 were being taken by the other side were only lead- 
 ing up to the development of 7 some ingenious device 
 of his own ; which, whatever it may have been, left 
 his adversaries two tricks at the end) . * No luck, 
 partner, couldn't do anything against their hands. 
 If you hadn't thrown away that queen though, we 
 might have got the trick.' And he proceeded to 
 show Rowley various points in his play which 
 required correction. Rowley was not a good whist- 
 player, and not argumentative, and Charlton could 
 quote many of Cavendish's rules ; so that he listened 
 quietly and agreed that he was probably wrong, and 
 ought to have done this, or that, or something else. 
 
 Russell, who was for a young fellow a very good 
 player, was much amused at Charlton's assumption 
 of knowledge, which, it was evident to him, he did 
 not possess. This he soon had the satisfaction of 
 proving by laying a very commonplace trap ; into 
 which Charlton innocently walked with the air of a 
 man who was doing a clever thing. When Russell 
 laughed at him, he persisted that, according to the 
 recognised rules, which he quoted, he couldn't pos- 
 sibly have played otherwise. Inwardly, however, he 
 felt that his play had been called in question, and fell 
 into a semi-sulk, which lasted the rest of the even- 
 ing, but didn't much affect the spirits of the other 
 three. 
 
63 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ' Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum.'* — Horace. 
 
 ' You who despise your neighbour are a snob ; you who 
 forget your own friends meanly to follow after those of a 
 higher degree are a snob ; you who are ashamed of your 
 poverty and blush for your calling are a snob ; as are you 
 who boast of your pedigree, or are proud of your wealth.' — 
 Thackeray. 
 
 * What a curious fancy it is men scratching out the 
 " Mr." on their cards/ said Villars next day, taking 
 up one of the numerous specimens that lay on 
 Marston's chimnoy-piece. 
 
 ' Yes, isn't it ? You see Travers leaves his on. 
 Too great a swell I suppose to mind this sort of eti- 
 quette — or perhaps he thinks it looks fine to do 
 different from other fellows.' 
 
 'Do you know all these men?' asked Villars, 
 tossing over the different cards. ' I find that nearly 
 every fellow that I was at Harrow with seems to 
 think it necessary to leave a card on me. It's very 
 jolly of them of course, but lots of them I'd just as 
 soon not see.' 
 
 ' It's an awful nuisance,' said Marston, ' men 
 
 * It doesn't happen to every man to get to Corinth. 
 
64 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 come in and make formal calls, and one feels such a 
 fool making conversation for fellows one doesn't 
 know anything about. Some of them patronise one, 
 too, on the strength of having been up here a longer 
 time. I shall go and return all their calls on Sun- 
 day — please God, they're all out ! I met Grey to- 
 day in the court. I believe he's rather a swell up 
 here — asked me to come to supper to-night in 
 Neville's Court.' 
 
 1 Oh ! do you know Grey ? ' exclaimed Yillars ; 
 1 he's an awfully nice fellow. I know him at home. 
 I'm going to supper with him to-night, too, — he's 
 an Athenaeum man.' 
 
 ' Isn't the Athenaeum an awfully expensive club ? 
 — they ride, don't they ? ' 
 
 i I believe it is. I should like to belong to it all 
 the same ; though I don't suppose there's much 
 chance of my being asked. A cousin of mine who 
 was up here some tini3 ago told me they were the 
 best set in Cambridge, and to be sure and belong if 
 I was asked.' 
 
 ' Well, I don't know that I should, one would 
 be let in for spending such a lot of money, and 
 I don't want to go a mucker.' 
 
 The man Grey, referred to above, was a quiet 
 gentlemanlike fellow, a third-year man, who was 
 going in for honours. He had known something of 
 Marston at Eton, and his lather, Lord Harward, had 
 a place adjoining that of Yillars' father in Glouces- 
 tershire, so that he and Charlie wore old friends. 
 
 It was not without trepidation that the two 
 
Athenceum Supper. 65 
 
 freshmen entered Grey's rooms in the evening, and 
 laced the gaze of the Athenaeum. Grey, however, 
 oame up to them at once, and found places for them 
 at the supper-table, where they saw Exmoor and 
 Castleton (who had come up from Eton as a fellow- 
 commoner), with three or four more shy-looking 
 individuals whom they set down as freshmen also. 
 They soon, however, began to feel more at ease, as 
 the old men, after a curious glance or two, resumed 
 their talk and their food. 
 
 ' Have some supper, Lowry ? ' cried Grey to a 
 tall, handsome man who had just entered ; ' lots of 
 room here/ pointing to a place beside him. 
 
 ' Thanks, I've only just dined; I've been feeding 
 with Tom at French's; they 're coming on presently.' 
 
 French's was, and is, a house in Park Street, 
 with five sets of rooms, which are always occupied 
 by Athenosum men. 
 
 ' I didn't know Tom had come up/ said Grey. 
 1 Yillars, you 're not drinking anything ; there 's 
 Badminton in front of } T ou, or champagne here,' 
 passing the decanter to him. 
 
 'Oh ! I 'm getting on very well, — thanks,' re- 
 plied Yillars ; and the host busied himself in looking 
 after some fresh arrival. 
 
 A minute or two afterwards the door opened, and 
 a shout of welcome greeted the entrance of a dark, 
 merry, good-looking man, who had to go through a 
 vigorous shaking of hands all round and across the 
 table, till the upsetting of a jug of claret-cup created 
 a diversion. 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 1 Just come up. — How are you, old boy ? — Devilish 
 glad to see you again/ lie replied to the numerous 
 shakes and inquiries whicji were pressed upon 
 him. 
 
 This was Tom Manners, the gayest, most reck- 
 lessly extravagant dog in the University, and his 
 father's only son, who gave him carte blanche for his 
 expenditure. He was never known to be out of 
 temper — good-natured to a fault — and a real good 
 fellow and good rider. 
 
 Those who had finished supper began now to 
 make way for the unfortunates who had not yet been 
 able to find places, and filtered gradually into the 
 adjoining room, which had been borrowed for the 
 occasion. 
 
 Talking of borrowing rooms, there is a good story 
 told of some one who wished to make use of his 
 neighbour's room, and had evidently not studied the 
 ' Polite Letter Writer.' His application was worded 
 as follows : ' Mr. A. presents his compliments to 
 Mr. Z., and will you lend me your rooms?' The 
 answer was, ' Mr. Z. presents his compliments to 
 Mr. A. — no, I won't.' 
 
 Villars and Marston followed the stream into the 
 next room, and joined Exmoor in a corner, where 
 they listened to the scraps of conversation heard 
 above the general row, and tried to make out who 
 everybody was. 
 
 ' I know one or two of them/ said Exmoor, in 
 answer to Charlie's inquiry whether he knew many 
 of the men in the room. ' That fellow there, the}^ 
 
Loo. 67 
 
 call Tom, is an awful swell ; he won the steeplechase 
 against Oxford last year/ 
 
 I Who's that nice-looking fellow over there ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! that 's Egerton ; jolly-looking fellow, isn't 
 he ? That man standing next him is another great 
 riding swell, I believe, Rochfort.' 
 
 ' Have you been to one of these suppers before ? ' 
 asked Villars, wondering how Exmoor came to know 
 so much. 
 
 I I was at French's last night,' he replied : ' Law- 
 ton, that fellow there, sits next me in hall, and 
 asked me to go. He asked me to come here to- 
 night, too.' 
 
 ' But how could he ask you to Grey's rooms ?' 
 
 1 1 believe they always do ask fellows to each 
 other's rooms in the Athenaeum.' 
 
 ' Do they ? I shouldn't care to go to a man's 
 rooms if he didn't ask me himself.' 
 
 ' "Well, I thought it was rather odd ; but Grey 
 was awfully civil ; so I suppose it's all right.' 
 
 Coffee and anchovy toast were handed to them 
 by one of the gyps ; and Grey came up soon after, 
 and asked if they would play loo. Exmoor sat 
 down to play, but Villars preferred looking on ; loo 
 being always associated in his mind with horrible 
 notions of hideous gambling, defending a pool of 
 two or three hundred pounds, and losing a fortune 
 on a card. The game, as played at Cambridge, is 
 peculiar to the place. Each player puts three shil- 
 lings into the pool, and, if looed, nine. When there 
 is no betting on the turn-up card, or anything of 
 
68 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 that kind, it is not easy to lose four or five pounds in 
 the evening without a determined run of bad luck. 
 
 Lawton made Exmoor sit beside him, and ini- 
 tiated him into the mysteries of trump after trick, 
 which Exmoor was rather slow to take in, not being 
 a whist-player. However, when Lawton was not 
 playing himself, he played Exmoor' s cards for him, 
 and, with the usual luck of beginners, the latter rose 
 at the end of the game a winner of some two or 
 three pounds. Villars had been set down to whist 
 with Marston and Castleton, and an old man, of 
 whom they stood in much awe for a time, till they 
 found he was no better than themselves. 
 
 Grey meanwhile, like Eve, ' on hospitable cares 
 intent/ supplied the wants of the various chairs — 
 sherry and seltzer to one — a cigar to another — 
 1 Get me a light, old boy ! ' cries somebody else ; 
 and when every one was satisfied, sat down himself 
 to play loo ; leaning his chair back every now and 
 then to see how Yillars and his whist-table were 
 getting on. Their whist was over by half-past 
 eleven, and Charlie remained for a short time 
 watching the loo, which he now saw for the first 
 time. 
 
 ' Ten minutes to twelve ! ' Lawton presently cried 
 out. ' Quids up ! ' — and he proceeded to go round, 
 asking who was going to put in. Exmoor, seeing 
 one or two others getting up, could not be per- 
 suaded to adventure a sovereign, though Lawton 
 told him there was no loo this time. Manners wont 
 round for deal — ' first knave — Harry (i.e. Egcrton) 
 
6 Quids up.' 69 
 
 — You're money poncy, Lawton — here are the 
 cards' — passing them to Egerton. 
 
 I Seven in,' said Lawton ; ' right — turn up.' 
 ' What are the tricks ?' asked another. 
 
 ' Three, two, two.' 
 
 I I take the first, then,' he said, putting down 
 the ace of trumps ; and Lawton handed him three 
 sovereigns, and to the second and third two a-piece. 
 ' Any one go in again ? ' 
 
 Only four responded, so that it was not worth 
 while, and everybody prepared to go. 
 
 ' Confound it all!' cried Lawton; ' some one's 
 taken my hat.' 
 
 ' You may take your oath it's Jtochfort,' sug- 
 gested Grey ; ' he never has his own.' 
 
 1 Well, I don't care ; this is a very good one,' 
 said Lawton, proceeding to appropriate Exmoor's, 
 who was looking for it in the other corner of the 
 room. 
 
 1 Good night, old boy, come and breakfast to- 
 morrow, half-past nine ; ' and, amid a chorus of 
 good-nights, the party clattered down the stairs, 
 leaving Exmoor and a few others behind, who, being 
 in College, had no need to hurry. Exmoor was 
 obliged to put up with an old and well-worn hat, 
 which was the only one left, and probably belonged 
 to Rochfort. 
 
 Marston and Yillars had left a few minutes 
 before the hour, the former having exchanged his 
 new gown, much to his disgust, for one which, to 
 judge by its tattered condition, had seen some 
 
70 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 service. He walked with Charlie as far as the gate, 
 and couldn't help contrasting the gentlemanlike air 
 and tone of the men he had just left, with the style 
 of those he had met in Travers' room. 
 
 ' I wonder some of those fellows were not there/ 
 he said ; ' I should have thought they must ride 
 and do pretty much the same as these Athenaeum 
 men.' 
 
 ' I don't wonder,' returned Villars ; ' I don't 
 suppose Travers or his friends, if they're like him, 
 would go down with this lot. What a nice fellow 
 Egerton looks ! ' he added, after a pause ; ' he was 
 awfully jolly to me at supper.' 
 
 1 Manners took my fancy most,' returned Mar- 
 ston. ' I wonder how your friend Exmoor got on.' 
 
 ■ He was winning, I think, while I was looking 
 on.' 
 
 ' I don't think I shall begin loo just yet.' 
 
 * Nor I ; good night.' 
 
 The porter unlocked the door and let Villars out. 
 
 Although it is supposed that every undergra- 
 duate is to be in by ten o'clock, and the gate is shut 
 at that time, the deans take no notice of anv one 
 being out until twelve, except by making them pay 
 a penny fine for each hour they are out after ten, 
 which goes to the perquisites of the porters. No 
 one in College can go out after ten, and no one out 
 of College come in after eleven. 
 
 Marston went to breakfast next morning (Satur- 
 day is the great day for feeding freshmen, there 
 being no lectures) with Brooke, and met a select 
 
Opinions of Third Trinity. 71 
 
 few of third Trinity, with Gordon and some other 
 freshmen. He mentioned, casually, that he had 
 been at an Athenaeum supper the night before, and 
 soon found that the Athenaeum was not particu- 
 larly popular among the present company. 
 
 1 Whose rooms was it in ? ' asked Brooke. ' Oh ! 
 well, Grey isn't so bad/ he said, when Marston 
 told him ; ' but those Athenaeum fellows, take 'em 
 as a lot, are the most conceited set of fools in the 
 place ; they'll not speak to fellows they 've known 
 before they belonged to it, and cut a fellow dead 
 that they know as well as I know my own brother, 
 just because he's not one of them.' 
 
 ' That's a fact/ chimed in another. ' I hate the 
 whole lot.' 
 
 ' Look at Lawton,' said another ; ' what the 
 deuce has he to be proud of that he should turn up 
 his nose at one ? Why, I remember him at Eton 
 the greatest duffer in the school.' 
 
 Marston didn't attempt to say that he was fa- 
 vourably impressed with what he had seen of them, 
 supposing that these men ought to know better than 
 he could ; and as Brooke advised him not to have 
 much to say to them if he wanted to stick to his 
 Eton friends, he determined not to think so well of 
 them in future. Accordingly, on meeting Grey 
 soon after, he returned his 'good morning' with 
 proper coldness. 
 
 As the Athenaeum has more detractors at Cam- 
 bridge than admirers, it may be as well to say 
 something about the institution. 
 
72 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 The Athenaeum has been called the White's of 
 Cambridge, and the qualifications for election into 
 it — or rather the recommendations — are good birth, 
 good looks, and good manners, or the parts of a good 
 fellow. The members of the Athenseum do not pre- 
 tend, any more than the members of White's, that 
 there are not as good fish in the sea as ever came 
 out of it. But an absence of the second recommen- 
 dation, or other adverse circumstances, having pre- 
 vented these other good fish from attracting notice 
 on their first arrival, they make their own friends in 
 a different set. Consequently if they do afterwards 
 come out, they rarely join the Athenaeum when 
 asked, not caring to give up their former friends 
 (for it is not easy to live in two sets at once). The 
 club professes to be composed of gentlemen, and 
 therefore the man who cuts his old friends, and 
 turns up his nose at his former companions on the 
 strength of consorting with the picked men of the 
 place, has no business among them. It is said that 
 they are a tuft-hunting crew. But when the ma- 
 jority of the members spring from the soil whence 
 tufts arise, how can they be said to hunt each other ? 
 — -parcit maculis similis /era — every animal spares his 
 kind. It is generally presumed that the manners 
 and habits of a gentleman accompany an honourable 
 or lordly prefix ; and unless the contrary is known 
 to be the case, he is as likely as not to be a good 
 fellow, and is therefore elected. This is not invari- 
 ably the case — a handle does not always open the 
 door of the Athenaeum. The man, too, who spends 
 
The Athenwum. 73 
 
 a great deal of money, and has nothing else to 
 recommend him, does not, as some suppose, ever 
 become a member with the goodwill of the majority 
 of the club. Solitary mistakes will occasionally 
 occur, but the exception only proves the rule. It 
 is also urged that it is a monstrously expensive club, 
 and that any man who becomes a member is let in 
 for all kinds of extravagance. It is entirely his 
 own fault if he is ; there are always many members 
 who cannot afford to ride, and give expensive 
 dinners, and spend money in this kind of way, "who 
 therefore don't, and make no pretence of denying 
 their impecuniosity. It is the greatest mistake to 
 fancy, as many do, that young men are ashamed 
 of confessing their inability to spend as much money 
 as their friends. The poor creatures who possess 
 so little moral courage — if, indeed, it requires any 
 courage — are very few and far between, and their 
 recklessness brings them pitying contempt rather 
 than xvdog. I have been rather particular in de- 
 scribing the Athenaeum, because the club is sur- 
 rounded by a mist of prejudice, arising from the 
 objectionable character of some of its members in 
 former years. The 'fast' men of the University, 
 who are now a distinct set, then centred in the 
 Athenaeum. 
 
 The term, ' fast man/ to my mind, has always 
 had an unpleasant sound ; it never gave me the 
 idea of a man who spent his money freely in a 
 gentlemanlike kind of way, but rather of one who 
 squandered it in riotous living, dressed in the 
 
74 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 extreme of the fashion, drank a great deal of wine, 
 and used a good deal of bad language. Now, 
 although many members of the Athenaeum may 
 commit excesses in various ways which the quieter 
 kind of gentleman would object to, yet there is an 
 absence of that ' bad form' about them which always 
 distinguishes my ' fast man/ Even at their worst, 
 they are still gentlemen, and there are many things 
 at which the fond mother would be aghast, which 
 public opinion allows not to come under the deno- 
 mination of ' bad form/ The same defence may be 
 made for the morality of men at the Universities, 
 or young men generally, as Macaulay makes for 
 Macchiavelli ; their vices are those of the time, not 
 of the individuals. The way in which a thing is 
 done is what makes the whole difference in the eyes 
 of others ; ( one man may steal a horse with im- 
 punity, while another may not look over the hedge/ 
 is an old saying, which applies to gentlemen and 
 fast men. The gentleman's irregularities seem but 
 a temporary forgetfulness of his self-respect, while 
 the fast man's orgies appear to be the natural ac- 
 companiments of his every-day life. Tutors and 
 deans can understand my distinction, from their 
 own experience of the different light in which the 
 transgressions of the fellow-commoner and pensioner 
 appear. Those of the former, under the dazzling 
 reflection of gold or silver lace, look like mild and 
 pardonable errors ; the latter, dressed in serge, 
 come out like monstrous faults, ' gross as a moun- 
 tain, open, palpable.' A gentleman's unerring 
 
Gentlemen and 'Fast ' Men. 75 
 
 instinct will generally tell him what he ought to 
 avoid as ' bad form,' and it is the absence of this in 
 the one, and the continual appearance of it in the 
 other, that distinguishes the Athenaeum man from 
 his fast shadow. 
 
 Note. — Vices, whether modern or ancient, are 
 not, of course, less odious, because conventional, 
 when judged by the standard of true morality. 
 
76 
 
 CHAPTER TIL 
 
 'II est plus ais^ d'etre sage pour les autres que de l'etre 
 pour soi-meme.' 
 
 ' Totam hodie Romam Circus capit ; et fragor aurem 
 Percutit, eventum viridis quo colligo panni.'* — Juvenal. 
 
 Sunday came round again, and with it eleven o'clock 
 chapel, and a sermon from the Master ; profoundly 
 learned, every sentence replete with varied erudi- 
 tion. High into the clouds of speculative philosophy 
 at one time he soared ; at another dived into the 
 far depths of abstruse scientific lore ; gradually 
 changing his lofty theme to sage maxims of general 
 morality, and finally winding up with the following 
 practical advice : — i Many of you have now come 
 amongst us for the first time. You are young, you 
 are inexperienced, but God has given you the know- 
 ledge of good and of evil, and the power of choosing 
 the one, and avoiding the other. Let your constant 
 prayer be that you may have grace to discriminate 
 aright, and courage to avoid the temptations which 
 
 * ' I bet my money on the bobtail nag. 
 Somebody bet on the bay.' 
 
First Sermon. 77 
 
 surround you. Choose your friends with circum- 
 spection, for as you select your companions so will 
 your character be formed ; and upon your choice 
 now will your after-life depend. Avoid bad com- 
 pany and gross pleasures as you would a pestilence, 
 lest the pure innocence of your youth become tainted 
 under their noisome influence, and the flower of 
 your age wither away ere yet it come to perfection. 
 Confine your amusements within proper limits, and 
 let them not exceed the bounds which propriety has 
 defined. Remember that while you are in this place 
 your allegiance is due to the constituted authorities, 
 and that any infraction of the rules of discipline 
 which they have laid down will bring instant pun- 
 ishment upon the head of the offender. 
 
 ' Let not the novelty of your position induce you 
 to forget the objects for which you have been sent 
 here ; and be careful that your pleasures do not 
 suffer you to neglect the attention due to your 
 studies. Bear in your minds the great names, and 
 ponder in your hearts upon the great qualities of 
 the men who have gilded this college with a bright 
 reflection of their own glory. Be emulous of their 
 fame, and strive to follow in their footsteps upon 
 the same road to distinction. But let no sordid 
 ambition regulate your conduct, no ignoble love of 
 self-aggrandisement form the mainspring of your 
 actions. Let your aim be noble, your purpose high : 
 and, with all your striving after honour, let true 
 beneficence and a desire for the good of your fellow- 
 men be mingled. See that no degrading envy enters 
 
78 Charl'e Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 into your honourable rivalry one with another. 
 Give honour where honour is due, and accord to 
 others that meed of praise which they may fairly 
 claim ; even as you will expect ^the same to be granted 
 to yourselves. Above all, whether you eat, or 
 whether you drink, or whatever you do, do all to 
 the glory of God. Through all your daily life, and 
 amid all your endeavours after earthly fame, and 
 the transient honours of this mortal world, let there 
 be mingled and interfused that manly piet}' which 
 shall give strength to your purpose and loftiness to 
 your aspirations ; which, when your race among 
 men shall have been run, will bring content at the 
 last, and will ensure to you in the glorious realms 
 of God on high, more true and more enduring 
 happiness than can be compassed in this earthly 
 sphere/ 
 
 The ponderous delivery and impressive demean- 
 our of the Master added gravity to his words, and 
 they sank into the heart of more than one among 
 his audience, and bore fruit in proportion to their 
 depth throughout his University career. 
 
 The freshman is more susceptible of impressions 
 and more open to advice than his older fellows. 
 His attention has not yet been dulled by the fre- 
 quent repetition of exhortations similar to that 
 above ; he is anxious to hear something more about 
 the life upon which he is entering, and the feeling 
 of responsibility for his own actions begins to dawn 
 more clearly upon his sense. 
 
 Under the united action of these several influ- 
 
Newmarket. 79 
 
 ences the soil of his nature presents a well-prepared 
 surface for the reception of kindly instruction. The 
 older inhabitants of the place have had the same 
 lessons often inculcated before. If the early im- 
 pressions left upon their minds were favourable, 
 they are probably strengthened ; but if none were 
 produced at the commencement, rarely will any be 
 created now, when they are wedded to the life they 
 have adopted, and averse to break off abruptly the 
 thread which inclination has spun. 
 
 Thus it happened that, good as was the Master's 
 advice, and earnest as his exhortation was to avoid 
 bad company and undue indulgence of amusement 
 prejudicial to study, there was no falling off in the 
 numbers who attended Newmarket in the ensuing 
 week. It was the Houghton Meeting — the Cam- 
 bridgeshire week. 
 
 The Cambridgeshire is one of the great races 
 which every one goes to see, one of the days on 
 which the luckless undergraduate is made to pay 
 two guineas for a hack, or four for a pair-horse 
 chay. 
 
 Villars and Rowley had secured one of the latter 
 conveyances at Death's in conjunction with Marston 
 and Gordon. 
 
 During the Newmarket weeks there is a notice 
 posted on the screens, requiring every undergraduate 
 to appear in hall every day throughout the week, 
 unless leave of absence has been obtained from his 
 tutor. This leave is easy enough to get from any 
 civil tutor. Of course they are not ready to grant 
 
80 Charlie Villars at Cambridge, 
 
 it every day, but on the great days no one is re- 
 fused. 
 
 The races were to begin at half-past twelve, and 
 Newmarket being thirteen miles from Cambridge, 
 Marston proposed they should cut second lecture and 
 start at half-past ten. Villars objected to do this, 
 not having yet acquired the necessary contempt for 
 the feelings of his lecturer, and it was arranged they 
 should start from Trinity Gate at eleven o'clock, 
 immediately after lectures. 
 
 Marston took upon himself the superintendence 
 of the food, which was packed from joint contribu- 
 tions in one hamper, and stowed away by his gyp 
 in the trap. 
 
 Most men in College have a gyp to brush their 
 clothes, wait at breakfast, and do any other work of 
 a valet kind which they may require in the morning. 
 After the morning the gyp is only seen once more 
 just before hall when he calls to ask if anything 
 is wanted ; and being required to wait at tea per- 
 haps in the evening, is pretty sure to be engaged 
 elsewhere. Their services are very well paid for at 
 one or two sovereigns per term — seeing that the 
 same gyp probably serves many masters. The name 
 is derived from the Greek 7^, a vulture. 
 
 A very few men keep regular servants who find 
 lodgings in the town ; and a few more keep boys in 
 or out of livery, who stay about their rooms all day, 
 and come in useful for messages. 
 
 Mr. Wood, Velars' tutor, who gave the classical 
 lecture to his pupils, was a sensible man, and released 
 
The Road. 81 
 
 his lecturees soon after the half-hour, saying that he 
 supposed they were impatient to be off elsewhere. 
 
 Marston was waiting at the gate when Yillars 
 returned from changing his cap and gown, and 
 Rowley and Gordon turned up soon after. 
 
 There were three or four other vehicles waiting 
 with theirs, and a little troop of horses under the 
 Athenaeum windows, which face the gate of Trinity. 
 From these they gradually extricated themselves, 
 Marston taking the reins ; and after safely doubling 
 the corners of Bridge Street and Jesus Lane, were 
 soon bowling along past Midsummer Common into 
 Barnwell. 
 
 The road and country were sufficiently uninter- 
 esting until they came to Bottisham, six miles from 
 Cambridge, when there were some dozen or more 
 traps of different breeds standing before the door of 
 the public-house. The occupants of the same were 
 inquiring the latest betting, or buying cards of the 
 races from a sturdy old landlord kind of man who 
 threaded his way between them. 
 
 ' What's favourite to-day, Chapman ?' cried Law- 
 ton as he drove up in a dog-cart with Manners, 
 Egerton, and Exmoor. 
 
 ' No change from yesterday, my lord,' replied he 
 of the cards, and the party, after investing four six- 
 pences, drove on ; Egerton and Manners nodding to 
 Yillars and Marston, and Exmoor looking very 
 pleased to be seen in such distinguished company ; 
 the other three being almost the best known men in 
 the University. 
 
 TOL. I. G 
 
82 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 ' There, that'll do/ said Marston to the man who 
 was watering the horses, and throwing him sixpence, 
 he whipped them along after the others. 
 
 Three miles further on they arrived at the top of 
 a long hill, where some men were leaving their 
 traps, and mounting hacks which had been waiting 
 in readiness. This was the commencement of the 
 Beacon Course, four miles across the Heath to the 
 end of the Cambridgeshire course, at the top of the 
 town. A most delightful stretch of grass for a 
 gallop, where many a one has enacted John Gilpin 
 over again on a fresh pony, or unusually gay 
 hack. 
 
 Following the rest of the vehicles, they reached 
 the course just in time for the second race, and took 
 up their position by the ropes among the carriages. 
 Thinking they were settled for the day, Marston 
 was allowing an officious cad to take the horses out, 
 when, as soon as the race was over, there was a 
 general move in the direction of the middle of the 
 Heath. Here they found the next two races were 
 to come off on a different course. So off they started 
 in a cloud of dust and crowd of vehicles, the jostling 
 of which one of Marston' s pair resented so vio- 
 lently that he was with difficulty prevented from 
 doing serious injury to his neighbours. TThatever 
 the cause may have been, whether it was that, all 
 his horses being engaged at once, the ostler had 
 been obliged to rummage out old harness, or that he 
 was not as particular about turning out freshmen as 
 he would have been with old stagers ; however it 
 
A Contretemps, 83 
 
 happened, it certainly did come about that, after 
 kicking and plunging frantically for some time, 
 this wild animal succeeded in breaking one of the 
 traces, and bringing his carriage and harness into 
 the most admired confusion. Finding that his heels 
 were no longer confined within the narrow limits of 
 a trace, he gave them free play into the ribs of an 
 innocent costermonger's pony alongside. This was 
 too much for costermonger feeling. A volley of 
 execrations descended upon Marston's head for not 
 being able to manage his horses, at the same time 
 that he laid a heavy whip across the horse's back. 
 The noble animal returned the compliment by 
 making play upon the cart, the side of which he 
 succeeded in staving in, before the various loafers 
 who had an eye to prospective advantage could 
 induce him to leave the road for the harness to be 
 mended on the turf. Two or three took possession 
 of his head, while two or three more unloosed the 
 other trace, and two or three more produced pieces 
 of string. 
 
 It was an interesting group for the occupants of 
 the stream of carriages and carts that were passing, 
 and our four freshmen felt very small and very 
 uncomfortable. The costermonger had also drawn 
 to one side, and after examining his pony's ribs, and 
 finding that none were broken (though the pony 
 was indulging in prolonged wheezes of " sweetness 
 long drawn out") announced his intention of 
 prosecuting for damages, unless five pounds were 
 immediately handed to him. 
 
84 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 'What do you claim five pounds for?' asked 
 Marston, indignantly ; ' your pony's none the 
 worse.' 
 
 ' None the worse, yer say, master ! ' replied the 
 costermonger, continuing with a choice oath. ' Does 
 yer think I'm a-goin' to have the guts kicked out 
 of my beast, and not be paid for 'un ? Look at that 
 'ere cart' (one panel had been broken in) ; 'that 
 'ere '11 cost me every penny of a pound afore it'll 
 be set to rights agin.' 
 
 ' You be blowed,' returned Marston ; ' I'd do it 
 myself for half-a-crown.' 
 
 ' So yer shall, and be d — d to yer !' returned the 
 costermonger, whose irritation was increased by a 
 passer-by, who shouted, ' You'll have plenty of light 
 in your cart now, little 'un.' He went on, working 
 himself up by the way. 'You call yerselves 
 gen'elmen, does yer, and break up a poor man's 
 property, and gives him nothing for a-doin' of it 
 (oath) ; I'd break every one of yer d — d heads, 
 yer (objectionable word), and think nothin' on it. 
 What business has you, or the likes of you,' he 
 proceeded, growing satirical, ' when yer don't know 
 'ow to drive, to come blunderin' in among respecta- 
 ble folks sich as us ?' And he continued to 
 vociferate in the same strain, rejecting with 
 contempt the sovereign which Villa rs offered him 
 to go. 
 
 The trace was mended by this time and the 
 horse quieted, so that it became absolutely necessary 
 to appease the costermonger ; he having threatened 
 
The Cambridgeshire. 85 
 
 to follow them about all day until he got his 
 money. 
 
 Through the mediation of a pitying cad, who had 
 been liberally rewarded for his yard of twine, he was 
 persuaded to take a couple of sovereigns, which he 
 nevertheless vowed would never mend his cart ; 
 and was left still grumbling and contemplating the 
 fracture. 
 
 After this contretemps so early in the day, the 
 freshmen derived but little satisfaction from their 
 visit to Newmarket, being haunted by the idea that 
 they had made themselves ridiculous. 
 
 The constant changing of courses, too, was re- 
 markably unpleasant for persons not on horseback, 
 and Yillars thought it was the most uninteresting 
 place he had ever been at. It was a gloomy day, 
 and the Heath looked cold and bare ; gusts of wind 
 blew up the dust into his eyes, and men on horse- 
 back nearly rode over him at every step. Egerton, 
 as he cantered past, told him that he would find 
 luncheon under the hedge, but he did not feel in a 
 humour to face a lot of strangers who had probably 
 seen their exhibition in the morning ; besides, he had 
 luncheon of his own. 
 
 Marston thought the whole business rather a 
 joke, and said, as they drove back to see the Cam- 
 bridgeshire run, that he shouldn't mind the same 
 thing happening again. Exmoor galloped past them 
 fresh from luncheon, beaming with champagne, and 
 gave them a patronising nod. 
 
 There were thirty starters for the race, and the 
 
86 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 red-coated functionary of the whip had already 
 cleared the course when they arrived. There was a 
 long time to wait before 'they're off' was heard 
 down the line, and they were / descried on the hill in 
 the distance coming down in a blended mass of various 
 colours. Another minute, and it was over, heaps of 
 money lost and won, the favourite beaten, and 
 Villars suggesting that they should get back as soon 
 as possible. 
 
 This was the last race of the day, and the crowd 
 was swarming across the Heath in the direction of 
 the town. Villars took the reins, and they had a 
 cold and dark drive the greater part of the way 
 back. Marston's spirits did not suffice for four, and 
 they were none of them sorry to get home soon after 
 half-past six. 
 
 Leaving their trap at Death's, they walked to 
 Litchfield's, where, after waiting some time, they 
 managed to get a table, and had the satisfaction of 
 hearing their misfortune on the course the subject 
 of not very complimentary remarks at the next 
 table. 
 
 The room was full of men from Newmarket, dis- 
 cussing the race, and talking with much assumption 
 of knowledge about the weights and chances of 
 different horses. 
 
 Men at Cambridge, probably from the close 
 proximity of Newmarket, affect a knowledge of the 
 different merits of horses, which makes their con- 
 versation, unintentionally on their part, very enter- 
 taining sometimes. They are in all the stable secrets, 
 
Racing ' ShopS 87 
 
 and can calculate to a pound the form of any horse. 
 Of course they can tell you the pedigree of any 
 one you choose to mention ; some at least can, for 
 it requires some study and memory to have the 
 stud-book at your fingers' ends. They generally 
 have a thorough knowledge of the intentions of the 
 various owners of racehorses, and what they mean 
 to do in particular races, and are precociously mys- 
 terious if they think that they have hit upon what 
 they call ' a good thing/ 
 
 This is all very amusing for an outsider, and if 
 they wouldn't obtrude their knowledge, it would be 
 well enough if it makes them happy. But they 
 have no conscience, they seem to take it for granted 
 that you must take an interest in racing, and that 
 even if you don't, it must interest you to see that 
 they do. And so they ramble on without the 
 slightest regard for your feelings, which they never 
 see that they are outraging all the time. 
 
 Of all shop, defend me from horsey shop, if I am 
 not a horsey man. If I am, of course it is not shop, 
 being my own speciality. 
 
88 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ' Give me my boots, I say ; saddle my horse.' — Richard II 
 ' Nescit equo rudis haerere ingenuus puer.' * — Virgil. 
 
 ' You never come and row now/ said Rowley to 
 Villars, a day or two after their Newmarket expedi- 
 tion. 
 
 ' No ; the fact is I don't care about being stuck 
 into a boat with a lot of fellows I know nothing 
 about, and sworn at by a miserable little creature in 
 the stern.' 
 
 ' You're not going in for the scratch eights 
 then ? ' 
 
 ' No ; are you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; I've put my name down, but they're 
 not drawn for a day or two. As we only have to 
 train for a week, I expect it'll be rather fun.' 
 
 ' I went out to see the drag yesterday ; they 
 wanted me to ride, but I thought I should see what 
 it was like first/ 
 
 ' How did you see it without riding ? ' 
 
 ' "Well, I did ride, only not with them ; we went 
 along the road to the finish to see them come in. 
 
 * The inexperienced but ingenuous youth cannot stick on. 
 
The Drag. 89 
 
 Egerton wasn't going to ride the drag, so I went 
 with him.' 
 
 I Don't they ride awfully hard ? ' 
 
 ' It's a sort of steeplechase, I think ; they race 
 in at the end past the man that takes the drag to see 
 who wins.' 
 
 I I don't fancy I shall take to riding/ said Row- 
 ley ; ' it's much too expensive.' 
 
 1 A guinea and a half is a good lot to pay for an 
 afternoon, and I believe it's two for a far-off drag?' 
 
 However, Villars promised that night at tea at 
 French's to come out the next day. Rochfort was 
 to engage a horse for him ; and as Charlie found 
 that he was going to do the same for Exmoor and 
 one or two others, he screwed up his courage to 
 think it would be excellent sport. 
 
 Villars was not much of a rider across country ; 
 but he could stick on very well over any fair flying 
 fence, and was moderately happy, therefore, when 
 he went to French's at half-past one to luncheon. 
 
 Here he met nearly all the riding men of the 
 University in boots and breeches of different colours ; 
 and three or four other freshmen who were going 
 to be initiated ; one or two of them, from the tight- 
 ness of their trousers, being apparently not alto- 
 gether new to this sort of life. 
 
 It is curious how riding men are almost always 
 to be known by their trousers, and the cut of their 
 coats and scarfs ; but by their trousers particularly. 
 
 In Magdalene, where the riding men chiefly 
 congregate, they have even gone farther, and in- 
 
90 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 stituted a peculiar brown as the particular colour 
 to distinguish the Magdalene man. So that any 
 one now who is far gone in riding, generally affects 
 the ' Magdalene bags/ and so becomes the riding 
 man proper, the beau id6al of the stable. Some men 
 manage to ride and dress like gentlemen ; but they 
 are very rare, and very like black swans. 
 
 This was the first regular day of the drag, 
 and most of the men put their names down 
 for subscriptions before leaving the room. Villars 
 was introduced to the book by an obliging 
 friend, and finding that every one had given at 
 least five pounds, he rather reluctantly wrote his 
 own name down under Castleton's for the same 
 amount. This half- compulsory voluntary system of 
 subscription is not practised now. 
 
 The Histon drag, being very near to Cambridge, 
 is always a popular one, and a number of men who 
 were not going to ride it, were going to the start 
 or the finish ; so that there was a regular troop of 
 horses being led up and down Park Street. 
 
 Charlie found his to be a light-looking, raw- 
 boned animal, which the man assured him was a 
 wonderful fencer, with a mouth as light as a feather. 
 
 He mounted and rode off with Exnioor (who 
 had come out in a bran new pair of tops), and they 
 clattered along with the ruck over Bridge Street 
 stones, through the turnpike, and down the Histon 
 Hoad for about a mile and a half to a farmhouse, 
 where some of the men were already waiting. 
 
 Lawton was master of the drag, and came round 
 
Hlston. 91 
 
 for half-a-crown from every one, and when these 
 were collected, and the stragglers had come up, he 
 went in to let out the hounds. These consisted of 
 four couple of animals of different sizes — picked up 
 from any pack in the kingdom. 
 
 The few minutes while they were waiting for the 
 hounds to be let out seemed awful enough to be- 
 ginners, and even old hands are not insensible of a 
 kind of tremor during this time before starting ; 
 which they take up in tightening their girths, and 
 making the necessary arrangements for comfort 
 during the run. 
 
 Out come the hounds at last, find the scent at 
 once, and stream away down the ploughed field on 
 the other side of the road. Every one turns his 
 horse to the gap in the fence on the other side of the 
 ditch, and after a great deal of crowding and con- 
 fusion, Yillars took his first jump with the drag. 
 Away they go, plough after plough, with small 
 fences and a nasty ditch or two, through a gate, 
 over the railway, down a lane, off to the left, and 
 on for a mile or two more without anything like a 
 fence to stop any one. Everybody is warm now, 
 and enjo}'ing the exhilarating air, the quick pace, 
 and the joyous sense of freedom which there is in 
 scuttling along in company across country, all feel- 
 ing of nervousness disappeared. 
 
 But there's a check as they come to another 
 road, and the pumped horses come up and have 
 a little time to breathe. One or two hounds, too, 
 that have been following the horses, strike in again 
 
92 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 in their proper place. Columbine hits it off on the 
 other side of the road, and off they go again. 
 
 Everything has gone on smoothly enough so far, 
 but the next fence is a nasty one for young riders 
 and clumsy horses. The men that are leading know 
 that there's a nasty little grip on the far side, and 
 accordingly go slowly and double it : or else, if they 
 have sufficient confidence in their horses, put on the 
 steam and take it in a fly. Not so the young hand ; 
 he keeps his ordinary fast pace, and almost inevi- 
 tably comes to grief in the far ditch. Charlie's 
 horse — luckily for him — was moderately clever, and 
 as he was not going at a great pace, managed to 
 blunder over without coming to utter grief. Stum- 
 bling, however, on the other side, he caused his 
 rider, whose seat was not perfect, to execute a most 
 graceful voluntary. Yillars picked himself up again, 
 caught his horse before he bolted, mounted and 
 followed the rest. But Exmoor — alas ! ' what a 
 falling off was there ! ' — his horse put his fore-legs 
 into the far ditch, pitched Exmoor over his head, 
 and rolled over him, boots and all. Fortunately, no 
 bones were broken : it took a little wind out of him, 
 and made him feel rather foolish for a minute or 
 two, and that was all. But how about his horse ? 
 When he had perfectly recovered from his fall, he 
 saw, to his dismay, the noble steed disporting 
 himself up the side of the opposite fence, reins and 
 stirrups flying, and apparently with no intention of 
 returning He started after him in woful plight, 
 got him into a corner, had his hand almost on the 
 
Cottenham Pastures. 93 
 
 rein, when off he went past him to the other end of 
 the field again, where, with the assistance of one or 
 two labourers, he was eventually caught. 
 
 All the rest of the party were out of sight long 
 ago, so poor Exmoor had to inquire the nearest road 
 to Cambridge, and turn his head towards home. He 
 began to think the drag was very poor fun, after all ; 
 that he should not come out again. As his thoughts 
 are not very lively at the present moment, we may 
 as well follow the rest to some grass fields they are 
 just entering off a shingly road. Almost the first 
 grass they have come across yet, and they bucket 
 across it with a sense of relief. One or two nice 
 fences, and a bit of timber, a gate, and the road 
 again, across it, and into more grass ; and here 
 comes the tug of war. They have entered Cotten- 
 ham pastures, and all the old riders know their way 
 to the finish now. Consequently, they think very 
 little more of the hounds, knowing they have only a 
 circle of good grass fields before them. They spur 
 their horses on (one or two have had fresh ones 
 waiting in the road), first over a rail, then through 
 a gate, and over another rail to the left, a couple of 
 fences with gaps, and a turn to the right, and a straight 
 run in to Leete (the man with the drag), with three 
 or four stiflish fences to finish up with. Charlie is 
 well up, but as he goes straight for the middle of 
 the next fence, a man crosses him to make for a 
 gap to the left, and he has to pull up partly, and so 
 make for the gap too. A nasty greasy double it 
 was, where his horse comes on his nose, and Villars 
 
94 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 again kisses the ground. By the time he was 
 mounted there was only one other man left with 
 him, who had got a nasty cropper at the same fence ; 
 and the next one was a stiff double post and rail 
 that looked confoundedly disagreeable without a 
 lead. The other, however, who was Marston's 
 friend Carter, made for a place where one of the 
 rails was broken, and Villars followed him and got 
 safely over. The next fence, too, he got over all 
 right; but the last, another double post and rail 
 with a ditch on each side, his horse, which was 
 pretty well tired by this time, refused to face in 
 cold blood, and very nearly threw him, by swerving 
 suddenly as he came up to it. Charlie kept him to 
 it gamely for a time, but at last had to give in, and 
 make his way through a gate to the right up to the 
 rest, who were walking their steaming horses about 
 to cool. 
 
 ' Hullo! Yillars, did you come to grief?' cried 
 Manners, observing his muddy coat and hat. ' Not 
 hurt ; are you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, no, thanks ; my horse came down with me 
 twice/ answered Charlie, not caring to confess to a 
 brace of voluntaries. 
 
 1 Where's Boots?' asked Lawton, alluding to 
 Exmoor's new tops (men ride the drag generally in 
 butcher-boots). 
 
 No one seemed to know anything about him, 
 until at last it was suggested that he had been seen 
 by somebody to go a mucker at that little double 
 after the check. 
 
Bach to Cambridge. 95 
 
 ' Let's go and look after him,' said Egcrton. 
 
 1 All right, we '11 lark home. Are you game for 
 larking, Tom?' 
 
 * Yes, anything. Death isn't out, and my horse 
 hasn't had half enough.' 
 
 ' Come on, then,' cried Lawton. 'You'll come, 
 Villars ;' but Charlie looked at his horse, and 
 thought he had had enough for one day ; so he 
 joined Castleton and the rest, who were going home 
 by the road. 
 
 1 "Who won the drag? ' he inquired, as they trotted 
 back to Cambridge. 
 
 ' Egerton ; Lawton was second, and I was third.' 
 Castleton had had a good deal of hunting, and was 
 a fair rider. He was on his own horse, too, which 
 had a good deal more pace than those from the 
 livery stables. 
 
 As Yillars was not much accustomed to riding 
 he found the eight miles home by the road rather 
 long. He wasn't sorry, too, that it was dark when 
 they arrived at Cambridge, so that his disfigured 
 hat and clothes were not seen. His falls, he thought, 
 would, of course, be attributed to inexperience. 
 
 When he had taken off his clothes and washed 
 and dressed, that delightful feeling of refreshed 
 fatigue came over him, and he threw himself on 
 the sofa to think over the afternoon. Cambridge 
 appeared the most charming place, riding the most 
 delightful exercise, and the life of an undergraduate 
 the most enviable under heaven. Boots and breeches 
 should be ordered forthwith : and he sank into a 
 
96 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 misty unconsciousness, during which fleet coursers 
 scoured across his brain, and breeched and booted 
 mannikins rode steeplechases over his ideas. B,e- 
 verie lapsed into sleep, and great gulfs and big 
 fences became scattered over the field of his imagin- 
 ation. He was careering Mazeppa-like over hill 
 and dale in pursuit of an imaginary horseman, and 
 was being congratulated on having passed him by a 
 little army of perspiring men in boots and breeches, 
 when he awoke, and Exmoor stood before him. No 
 note is taken of time in Dreamland, and Charlie 
 had slept on till nearly nine o'clock, unconscious, 
 amid his shadowy visions, of the hours' flight. 
 
 Exmoor recounted his misadventures, and said 
 that he had been asked to join the Athenaeum, and 
 had done so. Charlie felt the slightest possible 
 prick of jealousy, wondered whether he would be 
 asked, and hoped he might. 
 
97 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 'Ev T ox£t<rTvg.* — HOMER. 
 
 1 Diripiuntque dapes, contactuque omnia fcedant 
 Icomundo.' f — Virgil. 
 
 Mahston and Villars hardly ever now came across 
 each other, except in hall. The former had given 
 himself up to third Trinity and rowing, and con- 
 sequently came to no more Athenaeum suppers. 
 Coming, too, from different schools they break- 
 fasted, dined, or teaed with a different set of 
 friends. 
 
 A freshman who has been popular at school, or 
 attracts attention on coming up to the University, 
 generally has invitations enough to keep him from 
 ever taking a meal in his own room during the 
 first two or three weeks after his arrival. 
 
 Villars usually met Rowley and Russell, and 
 sometimes Charlton, in the rooms of old Harrow 
 acquaintances, or at Saturday morning breakfasts. 
 Charlton had been taken up by a friend of Travers', 
 
 * Containing conversation. 
 
 t They snatch away the dishes, and dirty everything 
 with their horrid paws.— (Free translation) 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 who had introduced him to one or two of the rooms 
 of that set, and he now seemed in a fair way to 
 become one of them. 
 
 He took kindly to his wine, was liberal with his 
 cigars, could talk about horses, was not squeamish 
 about using bad language, and did not appear to 
 have any particular regard for money. This latter 
 propensity was rather indulged by his father, who 
 was a wealthy manufacturer, and who held very 
 much the same ideas as the father who prided him- 
 self on his son's nodding to Lord This, and hob- 
 nobbing with Lord That, pompously adding, — 
 
 ' He has champagne, too, and claret-cup at his 
 supper-parties, and tipsy cake in the middle. ' 
 
 Villars asked Charlton one morning, as they sat 
 next each other smoking after breakfast, what he 
 did with himself all day. 
 
 ' Loaf about/ was the reply ; ' smoke a cigar 
 or play billiards in the morning. Drive over and 
 see the drag or some cock-fighting at Newmarket 
 in the afternoon. I was over there yesterday with 
 Carter and Travers, — rattling good fellows.' 
 
 He was immensely amused at hearing Russell 
 say that he always read in the mornings, or went 
 to his coach. 
 
 ' I put on a coach, too/ he said, ' but I take 
 deuced little out of him ; as my governor, I sup- 
 pose, '11 have to pay for him, why, it don't make 
 much odds.' 
 
 ' You don't row, I suppose?' inquired Villa in. 
 
 ' No, thankee, no rowing for me. Rather slow 
 
Saturday Breakfast. 99 
 
 work, isn't it?' he continued, appealing to Russell, 
 who said he generally went down to row in the 
 afternoon. Russell didn't agree with him, saying 
 that it was very good exercise and an inexpensive 
 amusement. 
 
 1 It '11 be rather a bore, training for a week for 
 the scratch eights/ said Rowley. 
 
 'Wait till you come to three weeks' training,' 
 said Fellowes, their host, who rowed in first Trinity 
 second boat. 
 
 ' You ain't allowed to smoke or drink anything, 
 are you ? ' asked Charlton. 
 
 ' A pipe a-day, that sort of thing ; beefsteak and 
 very little beer, and a run before breakfast after 
 early chapel.' 
 
 'Heaven forbid that I should ever train then,' 
 exclaimed Yillars. 
 
 The conversation now turned upon football, of 
 which Fellowes was one of the chief Harrow pro- 
 moters; Russell standing up for it as a game for men 
 as well as boys, which Charlie wouldn't agree to. 
 
 ' It's all very well,' he said, ' to go in for being 
 knocked about at school, when it's rather a pleasant 
 excitement getting one's bones broken. But I don't 
 think now I should much relish a fellow coming 
 like an express train into my stomach, or being 
 rolled head over heels on the hard ground for no 
 particular object/ 
 
 ' We don't play half so savagely as you,' said an 
 Eton man present; 'there's a great deal more skill 
 in our game.' 
 
100 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 The Harrow men were up in arms in an instant, 
 and the respective merits of the two games formed a 
 subject of warm discussion for several minutes. 
 
 ' I must say the Eton men keep up their game 
 much better than we do/ said a Harrow man. 
 
 1 They stick together much more/ said another 
 (an opinion which the other Harrow men would 
 not admit). 
 
 ' You hardly ever see an Eton man walking with 
 any fellow from another school. Third Trinity keeps 
 them together.' 
 
 Russell here got up to go to his coach, for whom 
 he was already late ; and as soon as the door was 
 closed upon him, his merits and prospects became 
 the topic of general conversation. 
 
 ' He ought to have gone in for a minor scholar- 
 ship/ said one, who explained for Villars' satis- 
 faction that minor scholarships were for men coming 
 up to Trinity to go in for before they become mem- 
 bers of the College. Their value is about fifty or 
 sixty pounds a-year, and they are held for three 
 years, or till one of the regular foundation scholar- 
 ships takes their place. 
 
 'You're going in for honours, I suppose, Vil- 
 lars?' asked another man, who remembered his 
 mathematics at Harrow. 
 
 Charlie said that it was his present intention to 
 do so. 
 
 'Lots of fellows come up intending to go in/ 
 said another, ' and come down to the poll afterwards. 
 
Mentor. 101 
 
 If you take to riding, and go in for the Athenaeum, 
 you'll not do much reading.' 
 
 Yillars replied that he had been to his coach 
 once or twice ; but that he found that when he had 
 finished lectures, and wandered about for a little, 
 and read the papers, it was nearly luncheon-time, so 
 that it was hardly worth while to begin to read. 
 And in the evenings he had always something else 
 to do. 
 
 1 You can't go on like that/ said his Mentor, as 
 the party began to disperse to their different morn- 
 ing occupations ; most of them taking a pull at one 
 of the cujds on the table, as they went (some men 
 think it pleasant and proper to have cups at large 
 breakfasts ; claret, moselle, and other fluids, which 
 come very unnaturally in the morning) ; some were 
 reading for their Little Go, and some were bound for 
 the Union to read the papers. To this institution a 
 friend proposed to get Yillars and Charlton elected, 
 setting forth the many advantages they would derive 
 from membership, and the genial society they would 
 meet there. 
 
 Charlton thought that very few of his friends 
 ever went there, and declined with thanks — as he 
 had the papers in his own room, and didn't suppose 
 he should ever be caught speaking there. 
 
 He walked down the street with Yillars in the 
 direction of Trinity, and entertained him with some 
 edifying recollections of a supper in Cunningham's 
 rooms at Magdalene, the night before ; where there 
 had been what he called ' a devil of a bear-fight ' — 
 
102 CharHe Villars at Cambridge, 
 
 and one man had had his eye nearly put out by the 
 corner of a sofa, not to mention minor casualties 
 from broken glass. 
 
 Their conversation was interrupted on the hall- 
 steps by Marston, who was coming from ordering 
 supper at the kitchens. 'Why, Charlie, I haven't 
 seen you for a week/ he exclaimed. ' How are you, 
 old cock ? ' 
 
 ' Pretty fit, thanks. — You're always rowing, or 
 doing something that I don't do.' 
 
 ' Well, come to supper with me to-night. You 
 know Castleton, he's coming ; and Gordon, and a lot 
 of fellows — ask Rowley to come too. Where are 
 you going now ? ' 
 
 'To order luncheon — Exmoor's coming to feed 
 before going out with the drag — will you come ?' 
 
 ' Can't, I'm afraid. I promised to go and row at 
 a quarter to two. Nine o'clock this evening — don't 
 forget ; ' and Marston was off to the Pitt. 
 
 Charlton proposed they should have a game of 
 billiards when luncheon had been ordered and they 
 had read through the notices on the screens. ' Ma- 
 thematical papers set in lecture-room for question - 
 ists ' — 'Harrow football on Parker's Piece' — 'Musical 
 Society ' — ' C. U. R. Y.' ('What's that?' said Villars 
 — oh! of course, Cambridge University Rifle Volun- 
 teers), parade,' &c, &c. 
 
 ' Are you going to belong to the corps ? ' he 
 asked. 
 
 'Not I,' replied Charlton. 
 
 ' Thornton tried hard to persuade me to do so the 
 
Billiards. 103 
 
 other day — I said I'd tliink about it. The drilling 
 would be an awful bore, and I don't care about rifle- 
 shooting ; argal, why should I ? ' 
 
 ' 1 saw Russell got up in gaiters at the backs the 
 other day, so I suppose he belongs to it.' 
 
 Here they arrived at Exmoor's rooms, which 
 faced the chapel, and Villars ran up to tell him the 
 time for luncheon. 
 
 ' I wish they'd put down some pavement here,' 
 he said, as they walked towards the gate ; ' these 
 stones knock one's feet to pieces, if you have thin 
 boots on.' 
 
 1 Why the deuce don't they, I wonder,' returned 
 Charlton : ' those bloated fellows must be rolling in 
 money.' 
 
 Not many men play billiards in the morning, so 
 that J\ r o. 1, pool-room, upstairs — the best table at 
 Brown's — was at their service. 
 
 Charlton pretended to be on terms of great 
 familiarity with Mary Brown, and paid her a num- 
 ber of vapid compliments, which she received with 
 great indifference ; having to undergo the same in- 
 fliction many times over during the day. 
 
 'How shall we play?' he said to Yillars, when 
 he had carefully chalked his cue — (he thought him- 
 self rather good at billiards) . 
 
 Yillars replied that he didn't know how Charlton 
 played, so that they had better begin by playing 
 even. 
 
 Charlton was quite willing, though he implied by 
 his manner that it would be a very easy win for him. 
 
104 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 The first, a fifty game, lie was beaten at thirty, 
 and the next at twenty- five, and then began to lose 
 his temper and curse his luck. He wouldn't take 
 any odds, though ; his dignity was hurt at being 
 beaten where he had expected to win in a walk. 
 Villars had practised a good deal at home, and was 
 a fair player enough ; and after winning another 
 game, and making Charlton unpleasantly sulky, he 
 said that he must go to luncheon. 
 
 Charlton left the room yery much in the same 
 humour as the man who, after losing a lot of money 
 in a billiard-room, met a wretch outside whom he 
 had never seen before, tying his shoe, and kicked 
 him down -stairs, ejaculating, ( D — you, you're 
 always tying your shoe.' 
 
 After reluctantly paying for the table, he saun- 
 tered into the public room, and vented his ill humour 
 in a succession of bad pool strokes. 
 
 ' I love the sport well, but I shall as soon quarrel 
 at it as any man in England/ somewhere says 
 somebody, who probably felt what a misfortune it is 
 not to be able to keep one's temper when losing. 
 It only makes a man play worse, and takes away all 
 the interest of the game ; for there can be no en- 
 joyment in playing with a fellow who is continually 
 ascribing your better play to his own bad luck, and 
 throwing down his cards, or his cue, or his racquet 
 in a rage. 
 
 Persons who cannot control their tempers ought 
 to eschew amusements of which they spoil the en- 
 joyment if anything goes contrary to their wishes. 
 
Losing One's Temper. 105 
 
 Soon after Yillars returned from the drag (which 
 had been from Barton, and so allowed of their being 
 home early), Marston rushed into his room in great 
 excitement, ' I can't get any one to wait to-night, 
 my gyp's engaged, what shall I do ?' 
 
 Charlie could only suggest his bedmaker, whom 
 he had forgotten to apply to. 
 
 ' I want some cups too/ said Marston, ' where do 
 fellows get them from ? ' 
 
 'My landlord sends out cups/ replied Yillars, 
 taking his card of advertisement from the chimney- 
 piece ; * here you are.' 
 
 c Then let 's have him up/ said Marston, ringing 
 the bell. 
 
 He came, he saw, he conquered ; told Marston 
 he would want two large cups, and any amount of 
 silver, glasses, &c. which he would supply, and un- 
 dertook that it should be done properly. If the 
 items in the bill, which he subsequently sent in, 
 were any criterion, it certainly was done properly — 
 so many sherry glasses, so many claret ditto, so 
 many green glasses, so many dozen large knives, 
 so many dozen small knives, large forks, small 
 forks, spoons, &c, all by the dozen. 
 
 Marston acquitted himself pretty creditably in 
 his first essay as a host, and paid great attention to 
 the two or three old men he had been brave enough 
 to ask. 
 
 His bedmaker had provided a pair of gyps of 
 savage-looking exterior, who didn't know much 
 about waiting, and seemed to be thinking more of 
 
106 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 their own feed which was to come after off the 
 various dishes which came from their master's table. 
 
 It is the custom for any gyp, or gyps, 
 who wait at supper or dinner, to regale him- 
 self or themselves after the feast on whatever 
 remains therefrom. If it is in college, the bed- 
 maker presides ; if out of college, the land- 
 lady and her handmaids cut in — una in pra- 
 celsa consedit rupe Celceno — the chief harpy takes 
 the top of the table. If there is no champagne 
 left in any of the bottles on the table, they 
 make no scruple of opening as much as they re- 
 quire, and making merry at the host's expense. 
 The delicate bird, the toothsome mayonnaise, or the 
 seductive cream, that you have fondly hoped would 
 gratify your lunching palate the next day, you are 
 told is gone, was all eaten, none of it left. That is, 
 it has been devoured by these ravenous birds of 
 prey, whose name so well describes their nature. 
 
 After all had well eat on, and a considerable 
 quantity of boating shop had been discussed, and 
 the cups had circulated once or twice, Marston 
 ordered the table to be cleared, and in the meantime 
 handed round a box of cigars, with which Bacon 
 had that day supplied him. 
 
 As there were not four men found to play whist, 
 all but one or two sat round the table for vingt- 
 et-un. 
 
 ' Tizzy and half-crown ; first knave deals,' said 
 Brooke, who took upon himself the direction of the 
 freshmen. ' Your deal, sir/ he said, handing Rowley 
 
A Freshman s Supper, 107 
 
 the cards. And so the game began, and went on 
 with its usual vicissitudes of naturals and unna- 
 turally long deals, till twelve o'clock drew near, and 
 the party broke up. Marston was very well satisfied 
 with the way in which it had gone off", and delighted 
 when one of the old men said to him as he went 
 away, — 
 
 ' Horace, your supper has been quite the thing.' 
 
108 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 'Ercci<>iic&<; <rvvcl%of*iv.* — PLATO. 
 
 The several tutors on the following Monday in- 
 formed their lecture-rooms that they were to go at 
 half-past ten to the Senate-house to be matriculated 
 by the father of the College. The paternity of the 
 College is ascribed to different fellows every year. 
 
 Matriculating merely means entering your name 
 on the University books, and a tedious ceremony 
 it is, if your name comes near the end of the 
 alphabet. 
 
 The father of the College calls up each man 
 separately, and the unfortunate T's and V's have 
 a dreary time of it, perhaps for three-quarters 
 of an hour. Villars was lucky in having a good 
 lecture-room neighbour, and therefore the time did 
 not pass as slow to him as it otherwise might 
 have. 
 
 Vivian was the sweetest -Eatured and most 
 charming-mannered fellow conceivable. His manner 
 always implied such an interest in you that it was 
 
 * We will bring (the) clubs together. 
 
Matriculating in Senate House. 109 
 
 irresistibly attractive, and having plenty to say, he 
 was therefore" a delightful companion. 
 
 On coming out of the Senate-house, Charlie was 
 met by an old Harrow friend, Douglas, who was on 
 the committee of the A. D. C, and who asked him 
 if he cared to belong to the club. On Yillars ex- 
 pressing his desire to do so, he informed him that 
 he had been elected the day before. 
 
 The elections to the A. D. C. and Athenaeum are 
 managed by the committees of the respective clubs, 
 who discuss privately the eligibility of their friends. 
 
 Sunday is a great day for committee meetings 
 of all the clubs, and on this particular Sunday 
 Charlie was also elected to the Athenaeum, which he 
 was asked to join that evening. 
 
 Marston, Gordon, and Rowley, had also been 
 elected to the A. D. C, and had all joined it. 
 
 The A. D. C, or Amateur Dramatic Club, had its 
 origin in the histrionic propensities of two or three 
 individuals, who used to exhibit in a small room in 
 Park Street, which is now the Green-room of the 
 club. Their performances after a time became 
 sanctioned by the University authorities, and the 
 club by degrees rose to its present nourishing con- 
 dition. It consists of about sixty members, who are 
 mostly elected, not from being known actors, but as 
 pleasant fellows ; and every one has to take some 
 subordinate part for his first two terms, when the 
 performances come on. Every year additional em- 
 bellishments are lavished upon the theatre ; and, in 
 its way, as an amateur establishment, the acting, 
 
110 ChaHie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 scenery, and general arrangements are unequalled 
 in excellence elsewhere. 
 
 Except during the week of the performances in 
 each term, and the fortnight of rehearsals before, 
 the club is only an ordinary club with a pleasant 
 room to read the papers in, and so forth. 
 
 The subscription of a guinea and a half per 
 term, with two guineas entrance, is not by any 
 means ruinous, and very good value to any one who 
 makes this his only club. 
 
 Marston also belonged to the Pitt, which was 
 supposed to be a reading-room only, and chiefly 
 frequented by third Trinity men ; where no talking 
 was allowed. Their room, which used to be at the 
 corner of All Saints' Passage, has recently been 
 changed to the late Turkish bath establishment. 
 "With the change they have modified to a certain 
 extent the severity of their former discipline, and 
 gone in for a little more luxury in every way ; 
 smoking-room, &c. &c. A smoking-room ought to 
 be established in every club which pretends to 
 consult the comfort of its members. 
 
 The unconscious freshman who has not yet 
 taken to smoking, when he first goes up to the 
 University, thinks that he will be obliged to smoke 
 in self-defence, even if he doesn't acquire the habit 
 from trying to do what others do. 
 
 But he is agreeably surprised to find that there 
 are very many others besides himself who are not 
 smokers, so that he doesn't always consider it neces- 
 sary to conform to the manners and customs of the 
 
The Union. Ill 
 
 majority in this respect. He is, however, obliged 
 ver}' often to sit in an atmosphere reeking with 
 tobacco, which smokers seem to take it for granted 
 that no one objects to. 
 
 The new Union has considered this particular 
 most admirably, and provided a suitable room in a 
 suitable place. But this was only to be expected 
 from the superior civilisation of the present day. 
 
 The old Union in Green Street was a miserable 
 place, dark and small, with no accommodation for 
 all its members. However, with the House of 
 Commons for its example, this possibly was as it 
 should be. 
 
 The men who frequented it were not usually 
 great sticklers for luxury, and took no little change 
 out of their compounded subscription of five pounds. 
 This made them members for life ; gave them ac- 
 cess to a good library, every kind of newspaper, 
 liberty of speech at debates, and other contingent 
 advantages. 
 
 The Union of the present day, I'm afraid, has 
 sunk from the proud position it held at the time 
 when tradition tells us that the voices of So-and-So 
 and So-and-So were heard within its walls. Of 
 late years it has generally been managed by 
 a clique of men who are not much known out- 
 side the club, and who assume a ridiculous 
 importance inside. Outsiders laugh at its debates, 
 and generally with reason, for the rubbish young 
 speakers talk is really fearful to listen to, though 
 the unction with which occasionally they give ex- 
 
112 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 pression to their crude ideas is rather entertaining 
 It may be good practice for acquiring confidence in 
 speaking, letting out one's young ideas for public 
 inspection. But to waste the energies in declaim- 
 ing vehemently upon a motion concerning the ad- 
 visability of having a hairdresser attached to the 
 club, or a flunkey in livery (as we have heard of 
 lately), is about as absurd, though not so useful, as 
 it would be to consider the propriety of keeping a 
 nurse for the superannuated, members who may be 
 seen wandering about its rooms. 
 
 Russell and Rowley were rather pleased at being 
 elected to the Union, not knowing that it was a 
 mere form, and paid down their five pounds very 
 willingly. They were quite as pleased, in fact, as 
 Castleton was at being asked to join the Beef Steak. 
 
 This is a dining club, supposed to have been 
 founded in the last century by Pitt. The dress of 
 the members is a blue coat and brass buttons (like 
 a respectable groom's), yellow waistcoat, and black 
 trousers. They dine off beef in every variety of 
 form, and drink only beer and port ; bumpers after 
 dinner, as in the olden time. 
 
 These remains of the barbaric customs of an 
 earlier period might, I think, be very well done 
 away with. In this civilised age we don't think 
 better of a man for drinking off half-a-dozen 
 bumpers one after another, and being carried oil' to 
 bed to disgorge ; and why we should keep up a bad 
 custom because it is old, when we let others which 
 are good die out because the fashion is changed, I 
 
Lining-Clubs. 113 
 
 cannot conceive. Not being a laudator temporis acti, 
 I don't think that the antiquity of a custom is any 
 justification for its barbarity. 
 
 The other dining-clubs, — the True Blue, and 
 Qua re Hcec, — are less objectionable, because the 
 dinner is better. 
 
 The True Blue was founded after the Beef- Steak 
 by some Tory representative (Fox possibly) ; they 
 dress in a sort of half- footman's, half-court costume, 
 and have a really good dinner once a month ; 
 whereas the Beef-Steak and Quare Hcec dine once 
 a week, on Saturday and Wednesday respectively ; 
 always break a good deal of glass, and drink a good 
 deal of wine, and so in a very short time run up a 
 good long bill ; payment of which the long-suffering 
 Moyes receives by instalments, generally extending 
 over some years. The few hours of exotic convivi- 
 ality which these bills represent are very dear at 
 the price. 
 
 The Quare Hcec dress was the ugliest of all. 
 Snuff-coloured coat and waistcoat, and black trousers, 
 with a peculiar white scarf. 
 
 The club was founded about the year 1854 by 
 a few enterprising individuals of that era, when 
 dining-clubs were more popular than they are now ; 
 and not having even the merit of antiquity for its 
 support, it has at last died a natural death. So 
 much for clubs. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
114 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Kdti 7T0C^V OfAOV x.Xvur 
 
 in aXXyv o uXXog Mvviv do^v* 
 
 iEscH. Pers. 
 
 The freshmen were in great excitement about this 
 period at the near approach of the fifth of November ; 
 a day that was associated in their minds with savage 
 fighting and bloody frays in narrow lanes, where 
 luckless undergraduates were cut off from the main 
 body, and returned to their rooms undistinguishable 
 masses of pounded flesh. They were in general 
 agreeably surprised to find that the excitement of 
 the evening was confined to the small boys of the 
 streets, who paraded about, shouting ' Town ! town ! ' 
 and who fled precipitately at the first appearance 
 of half-a-dozen undergraduates. Occasionally, if 
 they can catch a solitary and inoffensive man in a 
 passage, they throw stones /it him from a distance ; 
 but the glorious fights that are chronicled in most 
 University records are now out of date. 
 
 Little bodies of men, anxious for a row, wander 
 
 * Great noise, and each trying to bump the other. 
 
Fifth of November. 1 1 5 
 
 about the streets seeking whom they may devour, 
 and finding none, as a rule. 
 
 Villars, unaware of the harmless nature of the 
 revels, and having heard that the air about eight or 
 nine o'clock was usually thick with stones and 
 brickbats, remained quietly in his own room, hearing 
 every now and then at a distance the confused roar 
 of the town army, or seeing them from behind his 
 blind scouring down Green Street, flying before a 
 handful of undergraduates. The hurrying feet and 
 the defiant shouts of the enemy, when they had 
 arrived at a respectful distance, would sometimes 
 send a thrill through him which' prompted his 
 ardour to sally forth and do some mighty deed. 
 
 Prudence, however, saved his head from the 
 ignominy of being broken by a stone, and the 
 eventful night passed off without casualty to speak 
 of. The 9th is a day on which these amenities be- 
 tween townsmen and undergraduates are again re- 
 newed, arising, I don't know why, from the Prince 
 of Wales's connexion with the place. 
 
 A few days after, Yillars accompanied Powley to 
 the Trinity library to write his name in the college 
 books, and remained for a short time, inspecting 
 what he called ' the busts of old swells,' and the 
 1 fine old crusted books,' which are to be seen there. 
 
 In the afternoon they went down to the river to 
 see the last of the scratch eights. 
 
 'Scratch eights' means that a number of men 
 enter tlu-ir names for these races, and the crews are 
 drawn at random from the lot. It often happens, 
 
116 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 therefore, that five or six out of the boat may be 
 very fair, and the other two or three, or the cox- 
 swain, shocking duffers. Such was the case with 
 Rowley's boat, which had been steered judiciously 
 into the bank at Ditton corner the day before, and 
 lost all chance of winning — satisfactory result of a 
 week's training — morning miles — beefsteak break- 
 fasts in each other's rooms alternately — over the 
 course in the afternoon — early to bed and early to 
 rise, &c. 
 
 Russell's boat was the favourite now, and it was 
 this that Charlie had come out to see. Port it or 
 We Charon ferried them across, and they proceeded 
 along the towing-path on the other side under the 
 railway-bridge, where Rowley explained that all the 
 boats they saw drawn up void of their crews, had 
 been left there so as not to get in the way on the 
 course, the crews having gone down to the start. 
 
 They had hardly arrived at Ditton corner when 
 the first gun fired, and were just about opposite to 
 Grassy when the last went off, and was succeeded 
 by a distant human roar. In a few moments the 
 first boat appeared round the corner, accompanied on 
 the towing-path by a moving mass of parti-coloured 
 humanity, from which there rose an undistinguisha- 
 ble shout of encouragement issuing from the excited 
 lungs of the supporters of different boats. 
 
 Yillars and Rowley were soon in the middle of 
 them, and even if they had not (at all events Yillars) 
 been infected by the surrounding enthusiasm, they 
 would have been obliged to run with them to avoid 
 
Scratch Eights. 1 1 7 
 
 being knocked over by the eager friends of the 
 various crews. As it was, Charlie had his shin most 
 shamefully barked by a hobnail in front, and almost 
 left his heel behind under a boot in the rear. One 
 poor wretch whose eagerness ran away with liis 
 prudence, had chosen to run as close as possible to 
 the water, and was jostled actually into the river. 
 He was gaffed out of the mud by a boat-hook when 
 the crowd had passed. 
 
 Yillars found the rapidit} r of movement, the 
 general excitement and shouting, productive of 
 almost real interest in the races, and he soon 
 found himself madly cheering on the first of two 
 boats which were having an exciting race in his 
 immediate neighbourhood. His sympathy was more 
 particularly enlisted for the first of the two, as 
 a most objectionable little voice was monotonously 
 dinning into his ear encouragement for No. 2. 
 It was with great satisfaction, therefore, and a 
 triumphant glance at the objectionable little party 
 by his side, that he saw No. 1 pass the post a few 
 feet in advance of the other. His interest died 
 away directly the small man disappeared in the 
 crowd, and he turned to look for Rowley, from 
 whom he had become separated. 
 
 Threading their way through the crowd of men 
 who were getting into their boats again, they 
 returned to Cambridge through Chesterton. 
 
 Russell's boat had won, and he himself caught 
 them up as they were turning into Trinity. His 
 elation was worthy of a more important victory, and 
 
118 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 he appeared to feel already the gentle pressure of a 
 crown of boating laurels, into which the first sprig 
 had been now inwoven. 
 
 The stakes, divided among the crew, provided 
 each with a pewter, on which the names of the 
 eight and the occasion of the victory were engraved, 
 to be handed down to remote posterity as a monu- 
 ment, cere perennius — if pewter answers to that 
 description. 
 
 ' Did you see Castleton last night P asked 
 Villars, as he walked with Rowley towards his 
 rooms ; ' I hear he made an awfid row in the 
 court.' 
 
 ' No, I didn't see him, but I heard he was 
 awfully screwed.' 
 
 ' I believe he took the porter's hat and stuck it 
 on the top of a lamp-post, and put his fist through 
 the glass as he came down.' 
 
 ' Somebody climbed up one night and put hats 
 on the top of those statues,' said Rowley, pointing 
 to the figures of the Muses on the Library. 
 
 < What a joke!' 
 
 ' I'll send my bedmaker for some beer,' said 
 Rowley, as they arrived at his rooms, and found the 
 door open. 
 
 It is a curious thing that undergraduates' pro- 
 perty hardly ever suffers from the risks to which it 
 is constantly exposed. The doors of their lodgings 
 are always open to the casual stranger, and often 
 they forget to ' sport ' their doors in college when 
 they go out, so that there is nothing whatever to 
 
Property in Danger. 119 
 
 prevent a respectably-dressed man from paying a 
 round of visits in an afternoon, and filling his 
 pockets with the most portable valuables. A bed- 
 maker, or landlady, is so accustomed to see other 
 undergraduates running in and out of the rooms 
 when the owner is not there, that she would see 
 no cause for suspicion if she did find a man 
 lounging about the premises. There have been one 
 or two general robberies, but the wonder is that 
 they are not more frequent. Perhaps it is that 
 the ordinary undergraduate doesn't keep a large 
 assortment of valuable jewelry, sufficient to tempt 
 an expert thief. 
 
 * This is a nuisance/ said Rowle} r , taking up a 
 notice of rehearsal at the A. D. C, which he found 
 on his table. ' I wanted to go to the concert at the 
 Town Hall to-night.' Rowley had been a dis- 
 tinguished member of the Musical Society at 
 Harrow, and his voice promised to be an acquisi- 
 tion to a similar society at Cambridge and to the 
 A.D.C. 
 
 'I wonder if I have to go,' said Charlie, who 
 thought rehearsal would be much more interesting 
 than the concert. 
 
 I Can't you get off,' he continued, as Rowley 
 contemplated the necessity of giving up his con- 
 curt. 
 
 * By Jove,' he added, 'that's a bore, too — I was 
 going to dine with Exmoor.' 
 
 I I suppose we shall have to go,' said Rowley ; 
 'but I forgot the beer. — Mrs. Dutton !' 
 
120 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 A perspiring old lady answered the summons 
 from the staircase, and was despatched to the but- 
 teries. Mrs. D. was looking much better in point 
 of size since the beginning of the term. As Rowley 
 seldom had any meal but breakfast at home, his bed- 
 maker throve upon his commons, his breads and 
 butters, and frequent remains of beers, and a more 
 blooming appearance was the natural result. 
 
 The contents of the pewter were discussed, and 
 .Rowley went to hall, while Yillars proceeded to his 
 room to see if his attendance was required in the 
 evening. 
 
121 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ' Under Prom. Sir, the scene is 3et, and everything is ready 
 
 to begin, if you please. 
 ' Puff. Egad, then we'll lose no time.' — The Critic. 
 
 Most of the new members of the A.D.C. were put 
 down as ' supers ' in the burlesque which was 
 to form the chief attraction of the performances 
 this term ; and at eight o'clock, punctual to the 
 minute, thej^ came trooping in, afraid of being a 
 moment late. They had not yet found out that 
 punctuality is not a Cambridge virtue, and that even 
 the fines for non-attendance (much less those for 
 being late) were seldom enforced at the A.D.C. 
 Tout cela est change", I am told, under a more 
 vigorous rule ; but influential members, generally, I 
 fancy, elude them. 
 
 The chief piece for the term was a burlesque 
 which had a good many minor parts, suitable for 
 bringing out native talent. All the chief parts 
 were taken by old men who came down for the 
 occasion, and who certainly gave more entertain- 
 ment than any native talent could pretend to do. 
 Douglas was stage-manager, and was hurrying about 
 
122 CharHe Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 collecting the supers on to the stage, as they were 
 all to appear in the opening scene. 
 
 ' For God's sake come on, Egerton,' he said ; ' we 
 shall never begin/ ' 
 
 ' All right, old boy, I'm ready,' said Eger- 
 ton, and went on talking in the room to his 
 friends. 
 
 ' We'd better go on and begin,' said Lowry, after 
 a time ; 'all the supers are on.' 
 
 They went through accordingly on to the stage 
 where Douglas and Fenton, the assistant stage- 
 manager, were explaining to the supers what they 
 were to do. 
 
 'Now then, Baillie, strike up,' cried the for- 
 mer to the professional at the piano, which had 
 been moved in from the next room for the oc- 
 casion. 
 
 Whereupon Baillie played a few bars of an 
 adapted chorus from some opera which nearly every 
 one had heard before. 
 
 ' Are you all ready ? Here, Rowley, look over my 
 book,' said Douglas, and they began. 
 
 Some of the supers were rather shy of hearing 
 their own voices, and others had no idea of sing- 
 ing, so that the first attempt was a lamentable 
 failure. 
 
 'Hang it all, do sing in tune,' exclaimed Eger- 
 ton, in the middle of it, and the music stopped for 
 a time to enable defective ears to pick up some 
 notion of the tune from the reiteration of one or two 
 bars. 
 
A. B.C. Rehearsals. 123 
 
 After twenty minutes or so of this, Douglas told 
 the supers they would not be wanted again that 
 night, as they were only going to rehearse the first 
 act ; and proceeded with the dialogue following the 
 opening chorus. 
 
 * Here you are, Jupiter — enter left — cross the 
 stage — and meet Minerva coming in right. Minerva 
 — who's Minerva ? — Egerton — Confound the fellow ! 
 he's gone away just when his part comes on;' and 
 Douglas jumped off the stage and ran into the next 
 room in search of him. 
 
 ' I wish you'd stop till your part's over, Egerton 
 — It is such a nuisance fellows going off in this 
 way.' 
 
 < But I thought I'd done.' 
 
 1 No ; of course jou haven't — you come in again 
 at the end of the first act.' 
 
 ' Now then,' continued Douglas, on the stage ; 
 ' come in again, Lowry, will you — here, this en- 
 trance. Minerva, here ; ' looking at his book, and 
 showing Egerton where to go. 
 
 Lowry comes forward, gives a start, ' It can't ! 
 It must ! Ah ! ha ! it is Minerva.' 
 
 ' What do I say ? ' asked Egerton, ' let's have a 
 look, Douglas ; ' and in this desultory kind of way 
 they finished the first act. 
 
 'Same time to-morrow night,' said the stage 
 manager, as he put up a notice to that effect in the 
 next room, and told every one to write to La< 
 for a book. 
 
 1 Will you take Betsy, in the " Scrumptious 
 
124 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Girl?"' asked Fenton, who managed the farces, of 
 Egerton. 
 
 ' What kind of a part is it ? ' 
 
 ' It's a very good part, you've lots to say ; and 
 you're got up as a neat housemaid.' 
 
 ' All right, I'll take it, only I don't know that I 
 can do the other one as well.' 
 
 < Which?' 
 
 ' Belinda, in the other farce.' 
 
 ' Oh ! but you haven't anything to learn there, 
 only to sit still and look pretty.' 
 
 ' Well, I'll see what Betsy's like.' 
 
 The performances were to begin on that day 
 fortnight, so that after the first week the rehearsals 
 came thick enough one after the other, and any one 
 who was acting in the farces as well as the burlesque 
 was rehearsing pretty well all day long. 
 
 ' What a nuisance Carter is ! ' said Douglas, com- 
 ing into the room on the Thursday before the per- 
 formances ; ' he's gone and thrown up his part at the 
 last minute, and there's no one else that I can see to 
 take it.' 
 
 ' Why won't he act ? ' 
 
 ' He says he hasn't time, the Huntingdon 
 Steeplechases come off next week, and he'd have 
 very likely to cut them ; and a lot of bosh about 
 training his horse, just as if he couldn't do that at 
 some other time.' 
 
 ' When are the steeplechases ? ' 
 
 ' On Tuesday and Wednesday.' 
 
 ' They say Vivian's rather a good actor,' said 
 
Management of Scenery. 125 
 
 Fenton, from the writing-table, where he was de- 
 spatching a letter to Nathan about dresses. 
 
 ' But he couldn't get up the part in the time,' 
 said Douglas. 
 
 ' Somebody must, if Carter positively won't act.' 
 1 Do you know where Vivian keeps ? ' 
 
 1 I know,' said Yillars, who happened to come 
 into the room at the moment ; ' in the New Court. 
 M— I think it is.' 
 
 Y-ivian, having acted once or twice before with 
 some eclat in private, easily managed to get up the 
 part, and looked the woman all over. 
 
 There was a rehearsal of the whole burlesque on 
 Saturday night with a full band, when Mr. Sippel 
 was enjoined by some wag to mind his cues if he 
 wished for any peace, and underwent a good deal of 
 strong language whenever he forgot himself. The 
 chorus sometimes now sang a note together, and all 
 but the scenery was in fair preparation. There are 
 always a few finishing touches to be given to the 
 scenery, however long a time there has been before- 
 hand. All the scenes at the A. D. C. are devised, 
 painted, and arranged by members of the club, who 
 give up their time most liberally (old members 
 especially) for the benefit of the club. For some 
 days before the performance week, the painting 
 members take possession of the audience-room, and 
 live in canvas trousers and paint during the greater 
 part of the day. They mix their own colours, 
 make their own designs, and, with the help of a 
 
126 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 carpenter, set their own scenes. Of the result, 
 only those who have seen it can judge ; but they 
 will tell you, gentle reader, that it cuts out the 
 majority of the London theatres in finish and good 
 taste. 
 
127 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ' Dangle. Well, we'll meet in the green room.' — The Critic, 
 Act i. 
 
 ' Puff. Now, Mr. Sippel, please to play a few bars of some- 
 thing, just to prepare the audience for the rising of the cur- 
 tain." — Ibid. Act ii. 
 
 Tickets for the performances of the A. D. C. are 
 obtained from any member of the club on pay- 
 ment of five shillings, or half-a-guinea on the ladies' 
 nights. 
 
 Many innocent persons are under the impression 
 that the tickets for the ladies' nights are to be had 
 from members they are acquainted with, merely 
 as a favour ; so that the unlucky man who provides 
 a family with tickets, and has not the face to say 
 that they are half-a-guinea a-piece, has to make 
 good the money himself with a smiling face. This 
 is most unsatisfactory, as the party obliged is 
 quite ignorant of the extent of his or her obliga- 
 tion, and doesn't scruple to ask for any number of 
 tickets. 
 
 'You belong to the A.D.C., don't you?' said 
 Charlton, meeting Villars on Monday morning. 
 
128 CharHe Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 1 Yes — do you want some tickets P 
 
 ' Which are the best nights P 
 
 ' Oh ! they're all very good, you'd better come 
 every night/ / 
 
 ' Not I ; I only want to see what it's like. 
 Have you got one for to-night ? Five bob, isn't it ? 
 Here you are,' paying up his two half-crowns on 
 receiving the ticket. ' Confound it !' he ejaculated, 
 as the recollection suddenly flashed across him, 
 'I'm gated at ten.' 
 
 < What for ?' asked Villars. 
 
 'For being out after twelve. I shall go into 
 lodgings next term; you can come in when you 
 like there.' 
 
 ' But they always put down the time you 
 come in.' 
 
 ' I know a trick worth two of that, though,' 
 said Charlton : ' if you square your landlord, he'll 
 return you before twelve. Travers tells me he 
 never comes in till one, and they always make it 
 all right at his shop.' 
 
 1 But they get their license taken away if they 
 don't return you properly.' 
 
 < That's their look-out.' 
 
 ' Well, I shouldn't like to ask a man to do it.' 
 
 ' Oh, you're so d — d particular.' 
 
 ' Perhaps I am,' said Villars, moving on. 
 
 A metamorphosis was taking place all day in 
 the audience- room of the A.D.C. Hangings were 
 being taken down, statues and gilding uncovered, 
 chairs being introduced and arranged, scraps of 
 
The Green-Room. 129 
 
 scenery collected, dust and paint swept away and 
 carpets laid down ; while various members of the 
 club hurried back and forwards, making ' confusion 
 worse confounded.' The green-room was being 
 fitted up with partitions, into which Nathan (the 
 costumier) was stowing the dresses of the several 
 parts, according to the names affixed. 
 
 The performance was to begin at half-past seven 
 with a light piece as a lever de rideau, and before 
 that time the green-room was filled with a motley 
 crowd in every stage of deshabille and coiffure. There 
 
 was 
 
 ' An universal hubbub wild 
 Of stunning sounds, and voices all confused ;' 
 
 in the centre of which, Clarkson (the perruquier), 
 calm and undisturbed, was wigging, painting, or 
 rouging one applicant after another. On one 
 side, a hoary-headed sinner was clamouring to be 
 wrinkled, and on the other a fiercely-painted bravo 
 was calling for his chevelure ; while, in the middle, 
 the last touches were being given to the eyebrows 
 of some dainty fair ; and all around a curious crowd 
 of faces in every kind of half dress were waiting to 
 be finished. Many a promising whisker had fallen 
 a victim to the necessities of the stage, and had 
 been replaced by a delicate tinge of rouge or powder. 
 The downy moustache, the corky streak, in which 
 the youth of nineteen so prides himself, had often 
 made way for a gummy substitute, or plastered 
 monstrosity of similar propensities ; or else had left 
 the lips free play for the ' wreathed smiles ' of the 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
T30 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 coquette. Juno might be seen, in all the pomp of 
 royal dignity, fortifying herself on a basket with 
 brandy and soda, whilst her ladies, with their legs 
 hanging over the banisters,^were discussing a pint 
 of shandy-gaff, and conversing on familiar terms 
 with a ' boots,' or a private soldier redolent of beer. 
 A most ordinary slavey might be seen chatting 
 with Jupiter ; Minerva forgetting her dignity, and 
 cracking most unclassical jokes near by. Gods 
 and goddesses chased each other round the room, and 
 non-acting members sauntered among them, taking 
 liberties with the female attire. A medley of cries 
 assailed the ear. ' My crinoline, Nathan ; ' ' Am I 
 right?' 'Doesn't he look scrumptious?' 'Where 
 the deuce are my garters ?' ' I must be done next, 
 Clarkson ; ' ' One minute, sir ; ' ' Hart, my plaits ; ' 
 ' Hang it ! I've forgotten my stomach ; ' &c. &c. 
 were the scraps which might be caught amid the 
 general confusion. 
 
 ' Supers on ! ' at last cried Douglas, putting his 
 head through the stage-door ; and the supers, talk- 
 ing and laughing at each other in their strange 
 costumes, hurry on to the stage to be arranged in 
 their places before the curtain is drawn up. 
 
 The scenery arrangements hung rather on the 
 first night ; and the first piece having been over 
 some time, the audience are getting impatient. 
 The chorus are hurried into their places, and Doug- 
 las retires behind the wings. 
 
 'You remember your cue, Egerton?' he asks. 
 
On the Stage. 131 
 
 before telling the prompter to ring the bell. — ' All 
 right, ring away ! ' 
 
 The prompter tinkles his ■ tintinnabular append- 
 age ; ' the machinery manager draws up the curtain ; 
 orchestra strikes up, and the opening chorus of the 
 burlesque commences. Singing members who are 
 not • on ' at the time, stand behind, and help out 
 the voices on the stage : other characters come on, 
 and the chorus retires. 
 
 ' Awfully bad house ! ' said Fenton, undressing 
 in the green-room ; ' they don't half applaud.' 
 
 ' Come round to the front and make a row,' 
 suggested somebody else ; and a number of members 
 took up their places on the sofas at the side, or in 
 the front row, and instilled a little spirit into the 
 audience by clapping or laughing loudly at all the 
 points. 
 
 It is dispiriting acting before an apathetic au- 
 dience; there is no satisfaction in emphasising a vile 
 pun if the house doesn't appreciate your effort to 
 amuse them. 
 
 'How is it going?' asked Villars, — having put 
 off the goddess, and put on the language of the 
 theatre, — as he took his seat by Egerton on one of 
 the sofas. 
 
 It's rather amusing to hear men rushing about 
 with their mouths full of stage expressions about 
 1 business ' and ' gag,' and a host of others that I 
 don't remember. It gives a serious and business- 
 like air to the performance, which is a little comical 
 to the uninterested observer. 
 
132 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Dance, blue fire, and appeal to the feelings of the 
 audience, brought the piece to a close. Green cur- 
 tain, and general move into the reading-room, or 
 Jesus Lane for fresh air, tilt the ' screaming farce ' 
 began. 
 
 Rowley's singing (though it sadly wanted life), 
 and Vivian's acting, were the general theme of ad- 
 miration, and the green-room was ringing with their 
 praises. 
 
 ' You're coming to Huntingdon to-morrow,' said 
 Rochfort to Villars, whom he found vainly en- 
 deavouring to unpaint himself. 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose so,' replied Villars, out of a towel. 
 ' If I can get away. I shall have to be back early ; 
 the burlesque comes on first to-morrow/ 
 
 ' Oh ! cut the burlesque ; steeplechasing is much 
 better fun than acting.' 
 
 'I daresay I can get back in time — I suppose 
 they're over by five o'clock ? ' 
 
 'Heaps of time, if you don't want to be back 
 here before half-past seven. Send some luncheon 
 to French's to-morrow morning.' 
 
 Marston came up as Rochfort moved on, and 
 Charlie persuaded him to drive over with him in the 
 morning. After the farce was over, they rushed off 
 to the latter's room for a mouthful of food before the 
 clock struck. Supper was laid out, waiting, and 
 Marston made the best of his few minutes, agreeing 
 with Charlie, between mouthfuls, that the A. D. C. 
 was ' the best fun out.' 
 
 'You'll be here at half-past ten to-morrow,' said 
 
Supper. 1 33 
 
 Villars as twelve o'clock began to strike, and Mars- 
 ton caught up his cap and gown to go. 
 
 ' Can't possibly cut second lecture ; I had a 
 notice last week from Brown, and I shall be gated 
 if I do.' 
 
 * Oh ! never mind, chance it ; we shall miss the 
 first race if we don't start before eleven.' 
 
 ' All right,' returned Marston, after a moment's 
 consideration, ' I shall be there ; ' imitating the pro- 
 nunciation of a distinguished actor. ' Good night, 
 old boy ; ' and the little stair had seldom felt a 
 hastier step.* 
 
 * It has been suggested that the last line of ' Enoch 
 Arden' was added by an undertaker, so that a parody is 
 pardonable. 
 
134 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 Tu T2As< 7T10-TIV tyf>u>v. SOPHOCLES, Elec. 
 
 1 Every one who has left the University for a few years 
 looks back with special interest upon some of the pet amuse- 
 ments of the little set to which he belonged.' — Sketches from 
 Cambridge. 
 
 At half-past ten the next morning one of Pratt's 
 dog- carts was at Charlie's door ; with the noble 
 animal ' Hemperor/ as the man Snowy called him, 
 in the shafts. 
 
 Cambridge was soon left behind, and Hemperor 
 pulling hard along the Huntingdon Road, in com- 
 pany with many other vehicles and riders, with here 
 and there a tandem, and here and there a pair. 
 
 The road was beguiled with conversation upon 
 topics of mutual University interest. Yillars specu- 
 lating on the probable winner of the whip, and 
 Marston on the result of the sculls, for which, he 
 said, he had entered just for fun, not having a ghost 
 of a chance of winning. 
 
 ' Did you subscribe to the steeplechases ? ' he 
 
 * He was keeping him for the finish. 
 
Huntingdon Steeplechases. 135 
 
 asked. ' I was let in for a sov. by that beggar 
 Lowry.' 
 
 ' You're well out of it then/ rejoined Villars ; ' I 
 gave them a fiver.' 
 
 1 Ah, but you ride.' 
 
 'I don't run horses, though.' 
 
 1 No ; but still if you ride you ought to uphold 
 anything connected with it. Just as I should any- 
 thing connected with boating.' 
 
 ' Well, perhaps one ought. — Huntingdon, two 
 miles,' he continued presently, as they drove through 
 Godmanchester, ' we haven't been long coming.' 
 
 ' You've been here before, I suppose ? ' 
 
 * Once. I rode the drag here the other 
 day — splendid drag — all grass nearly — and good 
 fences.' 
 
 The steeple-chase course was about a mile the 
 other side of the town, and as they turned off the 
 road into the course, Lowry cantered up to them on 
 a ponj 7 . ' Any sportsman a card ? Card of the race 
 or pencil, Captain ? ' 
 
 Marston was rather surprised to find that he 
 knew none of the owners of the horses on the card, 
 1 Who's Mr. Grreville ? ' he asked, pointing to Law- 
 ton's alias. 'Why, I don't know any of these 
 fellows' names, I thought they were all University 
 men riding.' 
 
 ' So they are,' said Villars, ' only they don't ride 
 in their own names, because steeple-chasing isn't 
 allowed.' 
 
 Although steeple-chasing and races are forbidden 
 
136 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 by the statutes of the University, they have till 
 recently been winked at by the authorities ; having 
 been carried on at a respectable distance from Cam- 
 bridge, and with an attempt at secrecy. Not long 
 ago, however, it was proposed to hold the meeting at 
 Cottenham under the very noses of the dons, and 
 this was too much for the dignity of one or two 
 members of the Senate, who got wind of the affair, 
 and called upon the Vice- Chancellor to exercise his 
 prerogative. A message was sent at the same time 
 to the proctors to the effect that Mr. So- and- So ex- 
 pected every man to do his duty, and the proctors 
 replied that it was beyond their jurisdiction. But 
 Mr. So-and-So was not to be snubbed ; the Yice- 
 Chancellor threatened rustication, and the steeple- 
 chases had to be given up for the time being. The 
 affair of course made the Senate-house rather hot for 
 the Yice- Chancellor for some time. He was told 
 that riding in colours was prohibited, when he ap- 
 peared in his scarlet robes ; and asked if he was 
 waiting to be weighed, while he was preparing to 
 take his seat in his chair of office. He was also 
 indebted for many other facetious indignities to this 
 busy Mr. So-and-So. The position of the Uni- 
 versity with regard to such a person always reminds 
 me of the ' man in the tree ' of the Book of 
 Nonsense. 
 
 1 Who was horribly bored by a bee ; 
 When they asked, " Does it buzz 1 " 
 He replied, " Yes it does, 
 It's a regular brute of a bee." ' 
 
Prohibition and Consequences. 137 
 
 The last, or at least the best, of the indignities 
 which were entailed upon the unfortunate Vice, is 
 worth printing' in extenso. 
 
 The following graces of the Senate were de- 
 spatched from London the day before a congregation 
 for the conferring of degrees, on a fly-sheet of paper, 
 addressed without a stamp to all the heads of houses 
 and principal members of the Senate, including the 
 Vice- Chancellor himself. The amusement they pro- 
 voked has not, I believe, tempted the author to reveal 
 himself. 
 
 College Lodge, April 1st, 186 — . 
 
 * At the congregation on Thursda} 1 ", April 4th, at 
 two o'clock p.m., the following graces, having re- 
 ceived the sanction of the Council, will be offered to 
 the Senate. 
 
 '1. Placeat vobis, Undergraduati, ut Dominum 
 Procancellarium non plus quam natura jamdudum 
 est ludibrio habeatis. 
 
 1 2. Placeat vobis ut Dominus Procancellarius, 
 Mag r .— Coll. Trim, Mag r .— e Coll. Sid. Suss., Mag r . 
 — e Coll. Div. Joh., Mag r .— e Coll. Gronv. et Cai., 
 Mag r .— e Coll. Corp. Christ., et Mag 1 .— e Coll. Div. 
 Mar. Magd., Syndici vestri constituantur, qui de 
 turricularum venatione commodius per Academiam 
 v< strain propaganda deliberent, et ad vos referant 
 ante finem proximi termini Paschalis. 
 
 1 3. Placeat vobis ut non ut antea, voce exili et 
 macra, sed omnes una voce, capite opcrto, iis quos 
 
138 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Academia vestra prsecipue honoribus cumulet cla- 
 mores vestros in Curia attollatis. 
 
 '4. Placeat vobis ut summa £25 in singulos 
 annos in Leucocephalum e communi cist a erogetur, 
 qui Dominum Procancellarium in Curiam venientem 
 musicis honoribus excipiat. 
 
 1 Quibus concessis, Dominus Procancellarius in 
 mente habet ad finem Curiae, vestibus circurncinctis, 
 tripudium saltare cui nomen Perfecta Cura/ 
 
 ' 1. May it please you, Undergraduates, not to 
 make the Vice- Chancellor appear a more ridiculous 
 figure than nature has already made him. 
 
 ( 2. May it please you, to appoint the Yice-Chan- 
 cellor, &c, &c, &c.,* as your syndics to take measures 
 for the more convenient furtherance of steeple-cha- 
 sing through your University, and report to you be- 
 fore the end of the Easter Term. 
 
 ' 3. May it please you, not as heretofore, with 
 poor and thin applause, but all together with one 
 voice and covered head, to raise your shouts for those 
 whom your University delights to honour in the 
 Senate-house, f 
 
 ' 4. May it please you that there be appointed a 
 yearly sum of £25 to Whiteheaded Bob from the 
 University chest, to receive the Yice-Chancellor on 
 
 * These names are happily selected to uphold steeple- 
 chasing. 
 
 t Excessive noise in the galleries had been recently for- 
 bidden. 
 
On the Course. 139 
 
 his entrance into the Senate-house, with musical 
 honours.* 
 
 ' When these have been granted, the Vice-Chan- 
 cellor at the end of the congregation contemplates 
 girding up his robes and dancing the movement 
 which is called the Perfect Cure.' 
 
 There were a couple of races and a match or 
 two before ' the whip/ on the card, and, when these 
 were over, every one turned their attention to lun- 
 cheon before giving their whole energy and interest 
 to the race of the day. 
 
 The 'Whip' is a challenge whip, presented to 
 the University, and subject to the usual conditions 
 of challenge cups, &c. Winning it is supposed to 
 denote the best rider in the University, but the horse 
 very often has a great deal more to do with it than 
 the rider. 
 
 Yillars had given his trap to a Rounclchurch cad 
 to take care of (the Roundchurch is a, point tVappui 
 of loafers, who thence derive their name), and was on 
 his way to the Athenaeum luncheon behind the tent, 
 Marston having found some Eton friends in another 
 direction. 
 
 ' Do yon want to back Black Eagle ? ' asked 
 Charlton, of the former, as he passed. This was 
 Lawton's horse, and the race was supposed to lie 
 between him and Carter's Dairymaid. 
 ■ ' I 'm not betting,' replied Yillars. 
 
 ' I can lay you six to four — a point over the odds.' 
 
 * Itinerant musicians had been lately discommuned. 
 
140 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 'Don't care about it, — thanks. I suppose you're 
 backing Dairymaid ? ' 
 
 ' I 've just taken twenty to ten from that fellow,' 
 said Charlton, pointing to ^ Spot Sanderson, the 
 Cambridge bookmaker, who had just laid him ten 
 to five. ' Have some grub ? ' he continued, ' there 's 
 lots of fiz over there,' indicating a trap where Cun- 
 ningham, Travers, &c, were having a noisy lun- 
 cheon. 
 
 ' I 'm on my way, — thanks,' said Villars, moving 
 on in the direction of the tent. 
 
 Egerton, Lowry, Grey, and a host of others 
 were there, engaged in making egg-sandwiches, 
 chickens, pheasants, &c. disappear under the lubri- 
 cating influence of champagne. Old men there were 
 too, who had come down for the day, and a few of 
 the neighbouring country gentlemen who hunted 
 with the Fitzwilliam. 
 
 1 Carter thinks he 's cock sure of winning,' said 
 Manners, holding out a tumbler for more cham- 
 pagne, which his servant was carrying round. 
 
 ' Two to one he don't,' said Lowry, from a 
 plateful of pie, ' any one back him ? ' 
 
 ' I '11 take six to two, for a hedge, if you like,' 
 said Egerton. 
 
 * Not from me, old boy.' 
 
 ' What about Dairymaid, Spot ? ' shouted Eger- 
 ton to Sanderson, who was hanging about with his 
 confederate Rich. 
 
 ' Six pounds to four,' returned Spot, with an air 
 of determination. 
 
The Whip. 141 
 
 ' Why, I can get two to one here,' said Egerton, 
 pointing to Lowry. 
 
 1 What are yon laying against Black Eagle?' 
 inquired Rochfort. 
 
 ' Full against him, my lord/ said Sanderson, with 
 a knowing look. 
 
 The saddling-bell rings, and hacks are again in 
 requisition. Charlie had not sent one over, and now 
 felt his error, when he saw how independent the 
 riders were. Rejoining Marston at their trap, they 
 hurried down to the brook to see them come over. 
 The brook was not much of a brook — a broadish 
 ditch merely, with a hurdle and some bushes on the 
 take-off side. The majority of the spectators, not- 
 withstanding, congregated here — it is always so 
 pleasant to have the chance of seeing somebody wet 
 and uncomfortable ; or, perhaps, delightful thought ! 
 a broken leg ; or, better, a horse killed, or rolling 
 upon his rider. 
 
 The second bell rings, and after one false start 
 the flag is lowered. 
 
 All clear the first fence, and Carter's orange-and- 
 black colours are first to the brook. Dairymaid 
 almost takes it in her stride. The next two are 
 over, and then Castleton, or 'the Earl,' as Rochfort 
 had named him, comes up looking pale and flurried. 
 The novelty and excitement of riding in colours for 
 the first time has unsettled his nerve, and he doesn'l 
 seem to know exactly what he 's doing. Anyhow, 
 he checks his horse, which takes the hint to revive 
 an old habit of refusing, and turns short round, 
 
142 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 causing Lawton to go sideways at the brook, and 
 drop his hind-legs on the other side. Black Eagle 
 recovers himself at once, and is after the rest in a 
 moment, chafing at being Itept behind ; Lawton 
 pulling double, saving him for the finish. 
 
 Carter knows that if he can make the pace hot 
 enough, he'll win, and keeps it up in the hope that 
 Lawton will stick to him. 
 
 They cross the road, and all the Cossacks follow 
 them, scurrying in a confused and jostling multi- 
 tude down to a gate leading into a field where 
 they can view some of the fences on the way home. 
 The horses are now streaming across the plough, 
 up the hill — (Carter still leading, and making the 
 running at a hot pace) — round the crest, and over 
 the rail at the top. Here Egerton comes to fright- 
 ful grief; his horse, tired from the heavy plough, 
 touches the top rail, and comes down heavily on his 
 head the other side ; and Egerton is pitched for- 
 ward, getting off with the loss of his wind. They 
 begin to tail coming down the hill, 
 
 ' He tires betimes -who spurs too fast betimes.' 
 
 The pace through the heavy ground has begun 
 to tell, and Lawton begins to creep up. The next 
 fence, as they come into the flat again, is a teaser 
 for tired horses ; a double post and rail with a grip 
 on either side. Carter still leads and steadies his 
 horse till within twenty yards of it, and then puts 
 him at it with a rush, and clears it beautifully. 
 Lowry follows, but his horse isn't up to it, and 
 
Won by a Head. 143 
 
 refuses. Cunningham goes at it higher up and 
 smashes through the far rail, coming down on the 
 other side. Lawton and one other only clear it, 
 and leave one horse and his rider apparently hors 
 de combat behind them. 
 
 Now comes the struggle. The road has to be 
 crossed again, and then there's only the brook at 
 another place, and one more stiffish fence, before the 
 straight run in. Lawton begins to put the steam 
 on. Only Dairymaid and another are before him 
 now, and Cunningham, who has had the wind 
 knocked out of him at the last fence, he doesn't 
 fear. They're over the brook again, and Cunning- 
 ham is dropping behind. Lawton comes up hand 
 over hand. ' Dairymaid wins ' — ' Black Eagle ' — 
 ' Let him have it, Lawton ' — and amid the shouts 
 of the crowd, Lawton and the outsider clear the last 
 fence almost abreast, Carter still having a slight 
 lead. Here judicious riding in the early part of the 
 race begins to tell, and Lawton brings out his 
 horse, passes the other easily, and gains upon Dai- 
 rymaid. Carter hears him coming up behind, and 
 strains every nerve to keep in front ; but, as they 
 pass the tent, they're racing neck and neck, and 
 Black Eagle, staying the longest, wins by a head 
 one of the best races ever run for the whip. 
 
 ' Splendidly ridden ' — ' Well done, old boy ' — 
 ' I'm awfully glad,' &c, greeted Lawton as he re- 
 turned back to the weighing-room. 
 
 ' I'm afraid you made the running too hot at 
 first, old chap;' — 'You did your best at the finish 
 
144 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 anyhow ' — 'Confounded nuisance, I backed you to 
 win a couple of ponies/ &c, were the ejaculations 
 from Carter's friends as he passed. 
 
 Spot Sanderson came upj beaming soon after. 
 
 ' That suit you, Mr. Travers ? ' 
 
 < Suit me ! I like that !— D— d if I didn't think 
 it the greatest certainty out for Dairymaid ! ' 
 
 * Ah ! the riding it was as beat him — Lord 
 Lawton he knows how to finish, he do.' 
 
 After the excitement of the Whip was over, 
 there was a Farmers' race, and then a Scurry, 
 which our dog-cart did not wait for, it being almost 
 dark already. 
 
 The Huntingdon streets are not very well 
 lighted ; but Charlie escaped with knocking over 
 a milk-cart, and nearly running into another trap 
 on the bridge, and then drove out into the night 
 towards Cambridge. As they neared the town 
 several farmers made abortive attempts to upset 
 them — (this is a custom with the Cambridge farm- 
 ers) — but they arrived all safe at Pratt's at half-past 
 six. 
 
 A chop at Litchfield's, and then to the A. I). C, 
 where they were pitched into by the stage-manager 
 for being late. 
 
 The house was full and impatient, and the pieces 
 better known and better applauded. 
 
 On Friday, the ladies' night, the staircase was 
 got up in blue and white calico, and the audience- 
 room decorated a little ; the reading-room was 
 cleared out, and a table of refreshments introduced 
 
A . D C- - The Ladies' Night. 1 45 
 
 in the corner, where tea and bread-and-butter, 
 &e. &c, might be found between the acts. All 
 members turned out in evening costume, and talked 
 to their friends among the audience, or stood about 
 the doorway, as young men are wont to do. All 
 the more prominent dons had been invited, with 
 their wives and daughters ; and the more distin- 
 guished of the neighbouring county families. The 
 rest were admitted by half-guinea tickets, which 
 they paid for or not, as the case might be. The 
 heavy expenses attendant upon such a well-ap- 
 pointed performance precludes the possibility of 
 issuing general invitations. 
 
 On the Saturday morning following, Farren's 
 shop was crowded with curious-looking creatures, in 
 all kinds of costumes, waiting their opportunity 
 (like the wretches at the pool of Bethesda) to slip in 
 before the others, and — be photographed. The 
 photographs are framed and hung up in the club- 
 rooms. Nathan and Clarkson were in attendance, 
 wigging or painting the various victims, and one or 
 two gay ladies walked the streets in the meanwhile ; 
 the awkward management of their crinolines alone 
 causing any suspicion of their sex. 
 
 The supers were taken in groups, and Exmoor, 
 who had been called ' Boots' ever since his first 
 appearance with the drag, made a very pleasant 
 photograph as a groom. 
 
 Marston was chafing at being kept from going 
 down to scull, and dividing his indignation between 
 the photographer and the Junior Dean, who had 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
146 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 gated him for being out after twelve the night 
 before. 
 
 ' I went and asked him to let me off/ said 
 Villars, who had been gated 'also ; ' I haven't been 
 late before this term. But he said they were always 
 more particular in the A. D. C. week/ 
 
 1 I 've been admonished before/ said Marston ; 
 ' so I hadn't the cheek to ask him to let me off/ 
 
 ' He said if I kept two days it would do.' 
 
 The elder Farren here announced that his 
 brother was ready, and Marston was off, immediately 
 it was over, to the river. 
 
 Rowley lunched with Villars, and they strolled 
 up afterwards to Parker's piece, where there was 
 a football match going on, in which Russell was 
 playing. The latter had refused to join the A. D. C, 
 on the plea of expense, thinking that the Union 
 would suffice for his club wants. 
 
 He and Fellowes walked back with them after 
 the match was over, and they halted for a few 
 minutes for shandy- gaff at the latter' s rooms in the 
 market-place. Thence, after changing, to hall ; and 
 thence for Russell and Fellowes to Pratt's pool- 
 room, which at this time of the evening is always 
 frequented by ' the nightly hunter,' who labours for 
 his small gains with a pertinacity worthy of more 
 extensive results. 
 
 At chapel time the room clears, and Russell and 
 Fellowes play a game at billiards, for the improve- 
 ment of the former, before turning in to read for a 
 time before tea. Telle est la vie. 
 
Reading Life. 147 
 
 A few days after, Marsto-n did not make a very- 
 great appearance in the sculls, but was consoled to 
 some extent by winning the mile in the third 
 Trinity sports. They were held on the Trinity 
 cricket- ground on a cold raw day, when it was any- 
 thing but pleasant standing about on the damp 
 grass, watching a man putting the weight, or 
 throwing the hammer, or engaged in some such 
 other fantastical amusement. The attendance, there- 
 fore, was as small as the prizes. 
 
148 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 1 Cantab it vacuus coram latrone viator.' — Juvenal * 
 1 Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute.' — French proverb. 
 
 The end of term was now evidently approaching. 
 Tradesmen's books were to be seen at every corner, 
 and tradesmen themselves waiting with their little 
 accounts at every door. For a week or ten days 
 before the term ends the unfortunate man who 
 cannot sport his door is besieged with grocers, 
 haberdashers, booksellers, and every kind of seller 
 wanting his book to be signed for the account to go 
 in to the tutor. Signing is optional. Any one who 
 thinks his account would be rather startling to the 
 parental eye prefers to pay at some future time 
 himself. Some parents never see the college ac- 
 counts ; they give their sons a certain allowance, 
 out of which they are to pay everything. Others 
 
 * Rendering of the original : ' The traveller with empty 
 pockets will sing before the highwayman.' 
 
 Adaptation. The Cambridge undergraduate is cleaned 
 out at the end of the term ; and may with equal impunity 
 let off his spirits in the robber's face. 
 
End of Term. 149 
 
 settle college accounts, and give an allowance as 
 pocket-money. In the latter case tradesmen's books 
 are generally signed very readily. They prefer 
 their books being signed, as the tutor is responsible, 
 and the account is settled within the year ; whereas 
 if it is not sent in to the tutor, the chance of its 
 being settled within the year is often very small. 
 Villars' father came under the latter head of 
 parents, so that all reasonable accounts were signed. 
 It was only when Haggis, Death, and Pratt sent in 
 their bills for riding and driving that Charlie stayed 
 his hand. He had not the face to sign these, 
 amounting as they did between them to fifty or 
 sixty pounds, so he put them off till some more 
 favourable opportunity. As it was, he found that he 
 had paid so many that he had hardly left himself the 
 necessary funds to return home with. Rowley came 
 into his room the morning before they were to go 
 down, and found him contemplating his little pile 
 of bills in blank dismay. 
 
 ' That looks pleasant, doesn't it ? ' said Charlie, 
 pointing to the horrid heap. 
 
 ' I 've paid nearly all mine,' answered Rowley, 
 who had an allowance of 300/. a-year for everything, 
 and economised accordingly. 
 
 1 1 wish I had,' said Villars ; ' how these riding 
 bills mount up ! I shall have to give up riding next 
 term ; my father would be awfully angry if he saw 
 these. Well, it can't be helped, I suppose,' he 
 continued, with an air of resignation as he locked 
 them up in his desk. ' I 've just been clearing my 
 
150 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 chimney-piece/ he went on, ' the collection of 
 papers on it was rather curious.' 
 
 A. D. C. notices — rules of first Trinity — buttery 
 bills — cooks' bills — notices from the Junior Dean — 
 notes to dinner, supper, &c. — cards of the drag — 
 missionary subscriptions — all kinds of advertise- 
 ments — admonishments for lectures — Newmarket 
 cards — steeplechase ditto — and heaps of other 
 things. 
 
 ' Talking of missionaries/ said Rowley, ' did a 
 man come to you about the propagation of savages, 
 or the gospel among savages, or something of that 
 kind?' 
 
 I Yes, about a fortnight ago. He introduced 
 himself, and said they wanted money badly, so I 
 gave him half a sov. ; he was a University man, so I 
 suppose he hasn't kept it.' 
 
 I I think it 's rather cool of men going round 
 in that way to fellows they don't know.' 
 
 ' It is, rather ; but he didn't get very much out 
 of me. — Have you been for your exeat ?' 
 
 ' No, I only came out of the lecture-room about 
 half-an-hour ago.' 
 
 There is a slight examination at the end of the 
 October term in the subjects which have been lec- 
 tured upon during the term. 
 
 ' Come now then/ said Villars ; and while they 
 were on the way, he engaged Rowley to come and 
 stay with him some time in the vacation, promising 
 to write and say when they were going to shoot. 
 He found his tutor's room crowded with under- 
 
Exeats. 151 
 
 graduates waiting for exeats, and had to wait a 
 tedious half-hour until his turn came. The same un- 
 interesting process had to be undergone over again in 
 the Junior Dean's room, who countersigns the fresh- 
 men's exeats. Other years go to the Senior Dean. 
 
 These great dignitaries sit in the inner room, 
 and the undergraduates are let in one by one like 
 sheep out of a pen. Certificates of regular attend- 
 ance at lectures are required by the tutors previous 
 to signing, and in case of these being refused the 
 exeat is stopped, and the victim has sometimes to go 
 before the Master and explain. 
 
 Charlie having got through his signatures and 
 deposited his exeat at the Butteries, proceeded to 
 look up Marston, whom he found in a haze of 
 tobacco-smoke with Gordon and a pewter. 
 
 Marston was going down for a couple of days to 
 their old tutor's in Northamptonshire, and wanted 
 Charlie to go with him. But the latter was due at 
 home on the following day, and suggested Travers 
 in his stead. 
 
 1 I should think so/ replied Marston, ' I can 
 fancy myself going down there with him. — Have 
 some beer ? ' pointing to the pewter, which was a 
 monument of his Eton fame. 
 
 After talking for a short time longer, Yillars 
 rose to go. 
 
 ' I suppose I shall see you again before I go 
 down,' he said, with the door in his hand. 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, I shall see you somewhere, I daresay,' 
 answered Marston ; ' if not, good-bye.' 
 
152 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 1 1 wish Yillars hadn't gone into the Athenaeum/ 
 he continued, when the door was closed, 'they'll 
 spoil him ; and he used to be a very good fellow.' 
 
 ' Do you think he 's changed much since he came 
 up ? ' asked Gordon. 
 
 ' Well, I don't know ; I hardly ever see him 
 now ; he's always going about with those fellows. 
 I don't think he'd cut one, you know, like Exmoor 
 does. I used to see something of him at the be- 
 ginning of the term with Yillars, and now he won't 
 look at me.' 
 
 ' Castleton does the same for me/ said Grordon. 
 ' I knew him very well at Eton, and he hardly nods 
 now : awfully bad form, I think/ 
 
 ' So do I. I don't care a hang though ! I'm 
 sure I don't want 'em to speak to me. Let's go to 
 the Pitt, and look at the papers.' 
 
 In the matter of Athenaeum men cutting their 
 quondam associates, prejudice is often father to the 
 thought. A man hears that it is customary for 
 them to do so, and often takes the initiative, and so 
 compels a coldness which otherwise might not arise. 
 Again, when one man says that another in a per- 
 fectly different set, and with entirely different in- 
 terests, cuts him, because he is not as cordial as he 
 used to be, he forgets that there no longer exist 
 the same objects of common interest which originally 
 created and then maintained their friendship. So 
 that it is unfair to say that one man cuts his former 
 friends, when his line has been changed from theirs, 
 and the influences which used to keep them together 
 
Ch ange of Friends. 153 
 
 are broken up. The coolness is in reality just as 
 much on the one side as on the other. Ordinary 
 friendships are the creation of circumstances, and 
 depend upon time and place for their continuance. 
 When the mind turns its attention to other pur- 
 suits, it takes naturally to companions of similar 
 propensities, who oust the former objects of its in- 
 terest from their uncertain tenure. Nearly every 
 one knows from his own experience, that the same 
 friends seldom please after the age of twenty or 
 twenty-one, as were wont to please before. What 
 does Raleigh say ? ' And be sure of this, thou shalt 
 never find a friend in thy young years whose con- 
 ditions and qualities will please thee after thou 
 comest to more discretion and judgment.' 
 
 By Thursday afternoon Cambridge was half 
 emptied. There is not the same appearance of 
 desolation after the October term ends as there is 
 when the May term is over. Many men stay up 
 reading for the Mathematical Tripos, which comes 
 off early in January ; some for the Classical Tripos 
 in February, and others for different reasons. But 
 even so it is not an interesting place when the 
 majority of one's friends have gone down. 
 
154 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 1 She's all my fancy painted her, 
 She's lovely, she's divine.' — Old Song. 
 
 Charlie arrived at home in the course of the after- 
 noon, and had a long talk with his mother and 
 sister before his father returned from hunting. 
 Lady Mary Yillars, his mother, was somewhat past 
 middle age, bien comer vee, and with the remains of 
 much beauty. She had great natural dignity, and 
 with it were blended in charming proportion a most 
 attractive grace of manner and softness of ex- 
 pression. She was devoted to Charlie, eagerly 
 solicitous for bis bappiness, and well deserving of 
 all the tenderness and affection which he lavished 
 upon her. 
 
 Blanche Yillars, Charlie's only sister, was the 
 daughter of her mother, the image of what one 
 might have supposed Lady Mary to have been in 
 her youth. She had her mother's grace and dignity, 
 her mother's softness of expression and charm of 
 manner, and youthful beauty to give to them an 
 additional attraction. Her hair was light brown, 
 and wavy ; setting off in its peculiar mode of dress- 
 
Blanche Villars. 155 
 
 ing a beautifully shaped head, which moved with 
 a certain naivete* (if one may use the expression) 
 upon a most graceful neck. Her complexion was 
 clear and delicate, and her features very similar to 
 Charlie's, finely cut and softened by feminine ex- 
 pression. Quiet good taste and refinement were 
 stamped upon every detail of her dress ; and the 
 unstudied ease and absence of display gave a charm 
 which ten times the amount of care would have 
 failed to convey. Such was the girl whose clear 
 blue eyes now gazed upon her brother with mingled 
 love and pride. 
 
 'You are not looking so well, Charlie dear, as 
 when you went away/ said his mother, as he came 
 into the drawing-room dressed for dinner. 
 
 'No, I'm sure you're not/ said Blanche; 'you 
 must have been dreadfully dissipated/ 
 
 ' Hot rooms and smoke, I daresay, don't im- 
 prove one's complexion,' replied Charlie; ' you know 
 you didn't come back from London after the season 
 as fresh as when you went there,' he added to 
 Blanche, pinching her cheek. 
 
 ' Your father returned a few minutes ago/ said 
 Lady Mary : ' will you go to his dressing-room ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! I'll let him dress in peace/ answered 
 Charlie ; ' he'll be down directly/ 
 
 Mr. Yillars entered the room soon after, and 
 welcomed his son with a hearty affection which was 
 evidently returned, seasoned with a due proportion 
 of respect. 
 
 ' How are you, my boy ? ' he said, shaking him 
 
156 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 warmly by the hand ; ' I'm very glad to see you 
 back again/ 
 
 Mr. Villars was a man of five-and-forty years or 
 thereabouts ; had been a London man in his day, and 
 bore about him the evidences of a youth passed in 
 society where polish and refinement were the re- 
 quisites for admission. He had never had the affec- 
 tation of the ' beau ' even in his dancing days, when 
 the young ladies at Almack's were eager to be his 
 partners ; and his graceful manners and courteous 
 bearing had only served to adorn the manliness of 
 his nature. These qualities had not become rusty 
 with age, and he now stood in the midst of his 
 family a picture of the high-bred English gentleman. 
 
 Dinner was announced immediately after his ap- 
 pearance, and a happier or more attractive quar- 
 tette never sat round a country dinner table. 
 
 'Well, Charlie, and how do you like Cam- 
 bridge ? ' said his father, after the soup had been 
 removed. 
 
 'Delightful place, Sir; I can't fancy anything 
 j oilier. ' 
 
 Charlie always called his father ' Sir/ — a charm- 
 ing old-fashioned custom which now unfortunately is 
 almost extinct. 
 
 ' You'll want a little hunting to freshen you up, 
 my boy/ continued Mr. Yillars. ' Ah ! I remember 
 Cambridge in my day wasn't the place for health. 
 Sitting up late, and drinking very often more 
 wine than was good for us, took away our good 
 looks.' 
 
Family Dinner, 157 
 
 1 We've been telling Charlie that he isn't look- 
 ing half as well as he ought to/ said Blanche. 
 
 Charlie protested that he had never felt better in 
 his life ; and his father proceeded to make inquiries 
 after the Master — who had been his tutor five-and- 
 twenty years before — and other persons and places 
 which had been objects of interest in his day. 
 'You'll have plenty to tell me about,' he con- 
 tinued, 'but I daresay the place is a great deal 
 altered in twenty years.' 
 
 The conversation then turned upon home topics, 
 the neighbours, the hunting, prospects of shooting, 
 &c, till the ladies left the room, and father and son 
 remained together over their claret. 
 
 1 You have a good many acquaintances to make 
 in the county,' said Mr. Yillars, ' not having been 
 here for the last two winters, or done any hunting.' 
 (For the two previous years they had wintered at 
 Nice and Cannes, for Lady Mary's health.) 
 
 'I've seen a good deal of Grey at Cambridge,' 
 said Charlie, ' he's a very good fellow.' 
 
 1 He seems a quiet, gentleman-like young fellow. 
 I rode home with his father this evening. You 
 haven't inspected the stable yet, I suppose.' 
 
 Charlie replied that he had not yet had time. 
 1 I've been getting a couple of horses into condi- 
 tion for you,' continued his father. ' They meet here 
 the day after to-morrow, so you'll have an opportu- 
 nity of trying one of them. Your old hack is there, 
 and if you want another dav in the week you can 
 take one of mine.' 
 
1.58 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 * Oh ! thank you, Sir ; I shall get on very well 
 with two.' 
 
 ' We shall shoot here next week/ Mr. Villars 
 went on. ' We waited until ^you were at home, and 
 your uncles are to be here on Monday. You'll 
 ask Grey over, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, sir ; and I should like to ask another 
 fellow too. Rowley his name is ; he comes from 
 Norfolk/ 
 
 ' By all means ; any one you like ; we haven't 
 room though for more than eight guns/ 
 
 They adjourned shortly after to the drawing- 
 room, and found Blanche at the piano, and Lady 
 Mary dozing before the fire. 
 
159 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ' It was a vast and venerable pile.' — Childe Harold. 
 
 1 1 was there 
 From college, visiting the son.' — Tennyson. 
 
 The house of Mottistone Park (which was the name 
 of Mr. Villars' place) was situated in the middle of a 
 well-wooded park of some extent, abounding with 
 old trees, under which, in one portion of it, mag- 
 nificent old bucks might be seen digesting their 
 morning meal. The house itself was a fine old pile 
 of building, dating from the reign of Anne, and 
 capable of accommodating any number of visitors. 
 
 The breakfast- room windows looked out upon a 
 succession of terraces and clumps of evergreens, 
 which are now glistening in the bright morning 
 sun, as Charlie and his sister stand at the window 
 waiting for their father and mother to come down 
 to prayers. Her hand rested affectionately on his 
 shoulder, and her blue eyes looked lovingly up into 
 his. She was telling him that Emily Charlemont 
 and her mother were to arrive the next day. * You '11 
 
160 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 be so surprised, Charlie dear, to see how handsome 
 she has grown/ 
 
 ' It must be three or four years since I 've seen 
 her/ replied Charlie, colouring slightly. 
 
 He and Emily had been great friends as children, 
 and had vowed undying love and mutual devotion, 
 and gone through all the other romantic follies 
 which children indulge in. 
 
 She had gone abroad shortly after he went to 
 Harrow, and they had not met, therefore, except for 
 a few moments casually since that time. 
 
 The morning of his first day at home was em- 
 ployed in inspecting the premises and writing to 
 Rowley to ask him to come and shoot the following 
 week. In the afternoon he rode over with Blanche 
 to Lord Harward's to engage Grey for the same 
 purpose. 
 
 The next morning the county magnates and 
 hangers-on of the hunt arrived to breakfast ; Mr. 
 Villars always opening his house to every one on the 
 occasion of a meet at Mottistone. 
 
 Charlie was cordially received by them all. They 
 looked upon him as one of the future county men, 
 and his general appearance would in any case have 
 made a favourable impression. He rode well that 
 day, too, and rose greatly in the estimation 'of the 
 hard riders by the plucky way in which he went at 
 everything. 
 
 Riding the drag at Cambridge is a bad school 
 for riding to hoimds. The principle which every one 
 goes upon there is to get as much jumping as possible, 
 
Emily Charlemont. 1G1 
 
 and not to mind the hounds. So that some of the 
 old stagers shook their heads sometimes when 
 Villars was too impatient to wait his turn for a gate, 
 and took the fence by the side instead. 
 
 ' You won't get your three days a fortnight out 
 of your horse/ said his father, as they rode home, 
 ' if you don't save him a little more.' 
 
 When Charlie came down to dinner he found Mrs. 
 Charlemont and her daughter in the drawing-room. 
 The latter received him with a reserved warmth, 
 which slightly heightened the colour in his face, 
 and communicated a little restraint to his manner. 
 
 Emily Charlemont was Blanche's bosom friend. 
 Since their earliest childhood they had known each 
 other, and had grown up in mutual affection, the 
 brightness of which long separations of late had not 
 dimmed. They were, however, very different in 
 appearance. Emily was dark and handsome as the 
 latter was beautiful, with fine features, brilliant 
 mouth, and an animated expression. Yet with all 
 her attractions of feature, there was something hard 
 about her face, a want of that soft, warm, loving 
 tenderness which was the characteristic charm of 
 Blanche. 
 
 Dark beauty is generally far less attractive than 
 its light and softer sister. It compels our admira- 
 tion, but it does not so much attract our love. It 
 may be very grand, but it is not so readily productive 
 of the soft and tender emotions which constitute 
 love. Between handsome and pretty vomv beautiful 
 and lovely, the mean to which each extreme con- 
 vol. i. M 
 
162 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 tributes what most attracts in either. Such a com- 
 bination is, of course, perfectly irresistible. 
 
 Mrs. Charlemont was a lady-like good creature, 
 but very frivolous, and very silly. She was a 
 thoroughly good-natured person, who talked very 
 fast, and frequently a great deal of nonsense, upon 
 subjects which she knew nothing about. She knew 
 everybody, or at least something about them, and 
 rattled on from one to another without stopping, 
 yet but few were left the worse for her handling ; 
 and this is no small praise for a lady who talks 
 a great deal about her friends. 
 
 Charlie had barely got through his 'how-d'ye- 
 dos/ when she opened fire upon him — ' Dear me, 
 and what a fine young man you have grown ! I sup- 
 pose I'm not to call you ' Charlie ' any longer. And 
 so you're at Cambridge, and how do you like it ? My 
 nephew is at Cambridge,' she continued, not waiting 
 for an answer, ' do you know him ? At Trinity — no 
 — is it Trinity ? ' (Emily suggested ' Trinity Hall.') 
 ' Ah ! yes, to be sure, Trinity Hall ; you know my 
 nephew ? No, of course you don't, how should you ? 
 There must be a great many young men at Cam- 
 bridge you don't know — and I suppose you're going 
 to take your degree ; and, tell me ' — Mr. Villars 
 entered the room at this moment, and the battery 
 was turned upon him till dinner-time, while Charlie 
 entertained Emily with small conversation, during 
 which the constraint on both sides gradually wore 
 off. It seemed so odd to both at first calling each 
 other ' Miss Charlemont ' and ' Mr. Villars/ instead 
 
Percontatorem fugito. 163 
 
 of Charlie and Emity, which now of course would 
 have been so improper. 
 
 By the time dinner was over they were on their 
 old friendly footing again, the customary proprieties 
 between a young lady and young gentleman of mar- 
 riageable age being of course attended to. 
 
 1 We shall not be quite such a family party next 
 week, I hope/ said Lady Mary, as they sat together 
 in the drawing-room after dinner ; 'some of Charlie's 
 friends are coming to amuse the young ladies,' look- 
 ing towards Emily, 'and we expect Mr. Villars' 
 brothers, and a few more,' whom she enumerated. 
 
 Emily looked over to Charlie, as much as to say 
 that she was quite contented with the male amusement 
 already provided ; and Mrs. Charlemont hastened to 
 reply almost before Lady Mary had finished, that 
 there was nothing she liked so much as a nice, quiet, 
 little family party ; ' so cosy, my dear, and all so 
 pleasant, one can chat so quietly without being in- 
 terrupted by people hurrying about, and driving one 
 wild with their patter and clatter, and "Won't you do 
 do this ? " and " Won't you do that ?" I do declare 
 I'm never so happy or so comfortable as when I get 
 into a nice, quiet, little party like this ; ' and so she 
 went on till the necessity of drinking her tea brought 
 about a similar necessity of closing her mouth. 
 
 On Monday, Mr. Villars* brothers arrived to 
 spend their Christmas at Mottistone, according to 
 their usual custom. 
 
 Mr. Henry Villars, the next brother, had never 
 been in any profession. He had married early a 
 
164 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 wife with, money, who died soon after their marriage, 
 leaving him unencumbered with children. During 
 the season he lived in London, and the rest of the 
 year at the houses of his friends, or at his shooting 
 lodge in Scotland. Any one might have told that he 
 he was Mr. Yillars' brother from his look and man- 
 ner and conversation, which was that of a gentle- 
 man, and a man of the world. Arthur, the third 
 brother, had been a captain and lieutenant-colonel 
 in the Guards ; was two or three years younger than 
 Henry, and very different from either of his brothers. 
 He was somewhat uncouth to look at, and negligent 
 in his dress ; his sole idea was sport, and in pursuit 
 of sport he had wandered over the greater part of 
 the world. He had shot tigers in the jungles of 
 India, made great bags of woodcocks in Albania, 
 lain in wait for lions in Africa, killed snipe in Ire- 
 land, when the shooting was very different from what 
 it is now ; brought down buffaloes in America, and 
 would probably have brought down the moon and 
 hung iip her horns if he could have found any means 
 of stalking her. He was a very good fellow in his 
 way, bluff and hearty as you please ; but the great 
 drawback to the enjoyment of his society was that 
 he was always trying to make you get in his way, 
 which out of politeness you were obliged very often 
 to do, and submit to be lionised through his limiting 
 quarters from one end of the globe to the other. 
 
 Rowley and Grey turned up the next day with 
 several other visitors ; among whom was Colonel 
 Monk, a man whom everybody knows, one of the best 
 
Visitors. 165 
 
 shots in England, and generally to be seen at all the 
 great battues. It was whispered that he had made 
 his reputation as a shot by having his name put 
 down heavily weighted for the great Pigeon Handi- 
 caps at the Red House ; and that he had gradually 
 come in for so much shooting in consequence that he 
 had really turned out now a first-rate shot. How- 
 ever this may be, he was an amusing man and a 
 great acquisition in a country house. He always 
 had a good story to tell, which was not led up to ; or 
 a joke to fire off, without having been previously 
 primed. 
 
 There were also Lord and Lady Dufton, a hand- 
 some middle-aged couple. The former had been a 
 contemporary of Mr. Yillars at Cambridge, and on 
 leaving college had sown a very abundant crop of wild 
 oats ; which had completely exhausted his lands, and 
 obliged him to sell a large portion of his property. 
 Some of this he afterwards bought back on marrying 
 Lady Dufton, who bought her coronet with a hun- 
 dred thousand pounds. Her husband was a jovial, 
 reckless kind of man, hardly yet tamed, and would 
 even now run into any kind of monstrous extrava- 
 gance. For that matter, Lady Dufton herself was 
 not economical in her expenditure, if one might 
 judge by her dress. 
 
 There was old Lady Templeton, too, with her pair 
 of plain daughters that she had tried so hard to 
 marry. A good, amiable, hard-working woman, 
 deserving of a better fate. It was melancholy quite 
 to watch that poor old creature's face as she sat 
 
166 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 sometimes with a look of resignation at the wall oi 
 a ball-room ; seeing her poor girls whirling round 
 the room with eldest sons who she knew from expe- 
 rience would only deposit /them again when the 
 dance was over, and think no more about them. 
 Poor chaperons ! the labours of Hercules were 
 nothing to what you have to endure. 
 
 The next morning was bright and clear after a 
 sharp frost ; too hard for hunting, and most enjoy- 
 able for standing at the corner of a covert with the 
 hoar-frost still sparkling on the shady side, and all 
 nature grinning in the fresh clear air. Soon after 
 breakfast the eight gentlemen started for the other 
 side of the park, where the beaters were to meet 
 them, and in half-an-hour the fusilade began. Bang, 
 bang, bang, — bang, bang, till luncheon-time, when 
 the ladies joined them in a summer-house, and hot 
 luncheon was discussed ; and the game coimted. 
 Three hundred and fifty head, mostly made up of 
 pheasants. One woodcock had been seen, and had 
 been missed by Charlie, who suffered severely from 
 his uncle Arthur in consequence. ' Easiest bird 
 going to shoot ; 'pon my soul, I can't understand 
 how any one can miss them. Why in Albania 
 before breakfast I had twenty brace in the bag- 
 before you could turn round almost. It's a fact. 
 You know exactly how they fly, and jou ought 
 never to make a mistake.' 
 
 It was nearly the first woodcock Charlie had ever 
 seen, so he could hardly be expected to be as well up 
 in the habits of the creature as a man who had shot, 
 
Covert Shooting. 167 
 
 or said lie had shot, his twenty brace before break- 
 fast. 
 
 The ladies, at least, some of the young ones, 
 under Lady Duft oil's chaperonage, remained for a 
 time after the shooting recommenced, and caused 
 many a miss from the younger guns who were try- 
 ing to shoot their best for their benefit. 
 
 1 It's very nice to see you here, Miss Charlemont,' 
 said Yillars, after firing half-a-dozen shots without 
 bringing down a bird, ' but I can't shoot a bit while 
 you're looking on, so you mustn't expect to see me 
 kill anything.' 
 
 A cock pheasant came rocketting over as he 
 finished — bang, bang — and a tail feather fluttered 
 to the ground, near Miss Charlemont 's feet. 
 
 1 You have brought something down, at all events,' 
 she said, picking it up and sticking it into her hat, 
 ' it's so nice picking up your game.' 
 
 1 Just look at my heap of empty cartridges, here,' 
 said Charlie, pointing to the green cases which 
 strewed the ground, ' and nothing to show for them. 
 Ah! that's better,' he continued, after bringing down 
 a right and left, ' fancy if uncle Arthur sees these, I 
 shall never hear the end of it.' 
 
 ' Shall we take them away for you, Mr. Yillars,' 
 asked Lady Gertrude, one of Lady Templeton's 
 daughters, who was standing by. 
 
 ' Oh ! no, thanks,' he answered, laughing, 'please 
 don't take so much trouble ; of course I shall say it 
 was your fault. It was impossible to think of 
 shooting when you were so near.' 
 
168 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 ' What a charming compliment ! ' laughed Emily. 
 ' You haven't been to Cambridge for nothing, I see, 
 Mr. Villars.' 
 
 Charlie jerked out between another double shot 
 that he couldn't help paying her compliments, and 
 then deliberately missed a hare that was taking 
 across the park from the covert. 
 
 I firmly believe that his complimentary vein and 
 bad shooting were to be attributed to an extra glass 
 of sherry at luncheon. 
 
 . The beaters were drawing nearer and nearer to 
 the corner, and the shooting getting hotter and 
 hotter, so that the ladies had retired to a respectful 
 distance — and not a bit too soon — for, a few minutes 
 after they had left, the greater part of a charge of 
 shot came whistling through the edge of the covert, 
 past the place where they had been standing. 
 
 1 Hallo ! hi ! look out where you 're shooting 
 over there,' cried Charlie, who had been unplea- 
 santly near to the last shot from that quarter. 
 
 ' Oh ! you're there, are you?' laughed Colonel 
 Monk from the other side, ' that last shot ought to 
 have tickled you, eh ? ' 
 
 Charlie didn't half like the jocular way in which 
 he took it, and proceeded to take up a safer position 
 out of his reach. He didn't know that the gallant 
 Colonel had more than once peppered men in the 
 legs when his charge was in pursuit of a rabbit or 
 hare ; and laughed pleasantly as if it was a good 
 joke, or sworn at the man for getting in the way. 
 
Dinner Party. lf>9 
 
 Like the distinguished cricketer who broke the leg 
 of an umpire, with a splendid hit to square leg, and 
 then d — d him for stopping a good hit. 
 
 The shooting continued till it began to grow 
 dusk, and the party then returned to the house ; 
 the total head of game being something over six 
 hundred, which was about the average number of 
 ever} 7 day's shooting at Mottistone. 
 
 The gentlemen changed their shooting clothes 
 and joined the ladies at tea, went to the smoking- 
 room, or played billiards, according to their tastes, 
 until it was time to dress for dinner. 
 
 A few of the neighbouring residents came to 
 dine in the evening ; among them Grey's father, 
 who seldom left his house to stay, and cared little 
 about shooting. He was accompanied hj Lady 
 Harward and Miss Grey, who, like her brother, was 
 clever, — but uninteresting. She was what I believe 
 is called 'blue' — learned in abstruse subjects, and 
 with a far greater knowledge of metaphysics and 
 such-like reading than her brother. Young ladies 
 of this nature are seldom interesting in society, they 
 despise the ordinary small talk which forms the 
 basis of most conversation, and if they do thaw at 
 all, probably startle one with some fearful question 
 about the formation of the earth, or the probabilities 
 of the moon being inhabited, or some other such 
 thing which no fellow can understand. 
 
 Dinner at Mottistone was, as dinner always 
 should be everywhere, punctual to the minute ; and 
 
170 Charlie Villavs at Cambridge. 
 
 some four- and- twenty people marched in solemn 
 procession to take their places under the eyes of 
 the family ancestors. 
 
 How charming a country dinner-party is, com- 
 pared with a London one ! as, in fact, every kind of 
 country society is preferable to the horrible bur- 
 lesque of social enjoyment which is to be found in 
 London. 
 
 In the country nearly every one at the table 
 knows his neighbours right and left, and vis- a- v is. 
 It is not necessary to fish about for subjects with 
 which to victimize your neighbour's attention. You 
 know her tastes and friends, and most likely some- 
 thing about her ideas on things in general, and so can 
 interest her and yourself without trouble, — always 
 supposing that she is not a creature of no ideas. 
 What a position this is ! to be seated next to a 
 young person whose head is an empty void, — an 
 ornamental vacuity, — with your neighbour on the 
 other side engaged through dinner in conversation 
 with somebody on the far side, who is too interest- 
 ing to leave for you. 
 
 Mrs. Charlemont was a very disagreeable person 
 of an opposite kind to sit next to at dinner. She 
 hardly ate anything herself, and made you burn 
 your throat with the soup, trying to swallow a 
 spoonful in time to answer her before she rattled 
 on to something else. She did all she knew to fix 
 a fish-bone in your windpipe. You were not al- 
 lowed to eat your entrSe in peace ; politeness obliged 
 you to make some show of attention, and in the 
 
Mrs. Charlemont. 171 
 
 meantime you found you were left alone with your 
 cutlet; — like Sir John Moore with his glory, — 
 and you had to lay down your fork with a sigh, and 
 reserve yourself for the next dish. Still she went 
 on, and you were obliged to swallow a large piece 
 of meat whole to answer a question she fired point 
 blank at you, and then found that when you had 
 sacrificed your digestion for her gratification, she 
 was already off upon some other tack, without wait- 
 ing for your reply. You lost the delicate flavour 
 of that cream. The soufflet might have been as 
 heavy as lead instead of light as air, for all the 
 satisfaction you derived from it. Cheese you re- 
 signedly refused ; nightmare must inevitably follow 
 upon small squares of cheese swallowed in a hurry. 
 
 Grey was rather partial to a good dinner, 
 and had the misfortune to have Mrs. Charlemont 
 on one side ; she found him, too, such a good lis- 
 tener, that she confined her conversation to him 
 throughout the dinner. Hearing Mr. Yillars say, 
 in allusion to some remark, that Gre}^ (looking to- 
 wards him) was going to do great things at Cam- 
 bridge, Mrs. Charlemont immediately started off on 
 education : — 
 
 1 And so you're very clever, Mr. Grey ; ah ! I 
 thought you must be ; and you read a good deal 
 of Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew, I suppose; — 
 dreadful things ! and so useless too ; what a pity 
 it is young men should throw away their time as 
 they do upon such things, instead of learning some- 
 thing they might turn to advantage ! ' 
 
172 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Grey managed to get in a word in defence of 
 classics, but he was soon stopped again. 
 
 ' Ah ! of course you won't agree with me, that 
 there isn't any use in theni/; but there isn't : I'm 
 sure of it ; — there's my nephew now, as clever a 
 young man as ever lived ! he can do anything ; so 
 amusing. Dear ! how he makes me laugh some- 
 times ; but he knows no more about Latin or Greek, 
 or any of those fine languages, than I do.' 
 
 And so the old lady went on with a continuous 
 stream of chatter, which Grey was not relieved from 
 till the ladies left the room. 
 
 ' I think I heard you trying to defend a classical 
 education with that delightful old chatterbox,' said 
 Mr. Henry Tillars (who was a man of some reading 
 and information), bringing his chair nearer to Grev's 
 when the gentlemen were left to themselves, ' I've 
 never been able to discover what practical advan- 
 tages are to be gained by it.' 
 
 ' Why, as to practical advantages,' replied Grey, 
 ' what do you mean exactly ? ' 
 
 1 Well, for instance, what use are Greek and 
 Latin to a man going into the army ? ' 
 
 ' Directly, none perhaps,' answered Grey, after 
 a moment's thought ; ' but indirectly, a great deal. 
 They don't help him to be a soldier, but they do 
 make him a more intelligent gentleman. Every 
 one seems to forget that there cannot be a general 
 system of education to suit individuals. My idea 
 of the advantages of a classical education, is that it 
 trains and exercises the mind so as to fit it for more 
 
Classical Education. 173 
 
 easily acquiring that particular branch of knowledge 
 to which it is to be devoted in after-life/ 
 
 1 But why shouldn't the cultivation of such lan- 
 guages as French, and Italian, and German, answer 
 the same purpose ? And they arc certainly more 
 generally useful.' 
 
 ' Why, in the first place, Greek and Latin (Greek 
 particularly) are more specially adapted, from the 
 intricacy of their structure and variety of idiom, 
 for the exercise and training of the mind. I 'm not 
 well enough up in the subject to tell you all the 
 mental qualities which are improved and strength- 
 ened by the hard-working and close application 
 required to make out some Greek and Latin authors. 
 But if you read Goldsmith's " Essays on Taste," 
 you '11 find a good many reasons to show why the 
 study of classics is desirable. Then, modern lan- 
 guages are so much more easy to learn, that they 
 may be picked up at any time ; whereas how often 
 does one hear some clever man lamenting that he 
 neglected giving more time to Greek or Latin when 
 he was young. It takes half a lifetime to get a 
 thorough knowledge of either of these ; and if you 
 don't begin when you're young, you never can 
 expect, without twice the labour, to get them up 
 late in life. So, you see, that while you are edu- 
 cating the mind generally, you are acquiring know- 
 ledge, the neglect of which you may in after-life 
 regret, when it's no longer within your reach. 
 Then, again,' continued Grey, smiling at his own 
 prolixity, ' I don't admit that these modern languages 
 
174 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 are more generally useful. "What use are French 
 and German to a country curate or a lawyer, or to 
 anybody who isn't a soldier, or a diplomat, or a 
 traveller ?' ^ 
 
 * Ah, of course, I agree that classics are necessary 
 for the learned professions.' 
 
 ' Well, but if you want to have modern lan- 
 guages substituted for the benefit of the particular 
 professions they are required for, you do the same 
 injustice to those who don't require them, as you 
 say the former now suffer by the present system ; 
 and, besides, you don't give their minds an equally 
 good general training.' 
 
 ' I daresay you may be right about the dead 
 languages being better adapted for training the 
 mind ; but one doesn't see any effects of this in half 
 the men who have spent all their early years in 
 making Latin and Greek verses, and who forget all 
 about them by the time they are flve-and-twenty.' 
 
 ' No, one doesn't notice the effect, perhaps ; but 
 you would observe a deficiency of intelligence, and 
 a more general want of vigour of mind if this early 
 training was done away with.' 
 
 1 But, surely, a man would be a much more 
 useful and interesting member of society if he were 
 to study the history and literature of his own country a 
 little more in preference to that of Greece and Rome.' 
 ' But so every one ought to study the literature 
 of his own country when they have acquired a 
 thorough knowledge of ancient languages and an- 
 cient history. They ought to come back (if they 
 
Classical Education, 175 
 
 don't carry on their modern reading at the same 
 time) to their own literature and the languages 
 of the present day, which they will find mere 
 child's play after the close application which the 
 others have required, and by which the mind has 
 gained a power of concentration and strength which 
 will greatly facilitate the learning of the other 
 subjects.' 
 
 * But you see men don't do so ; they waste the 
 years which are devoted to education upon subjects 
 which in a short time they retain no recollection of, 
 and so are left without any knowledge at all.' 
 
 ' Yes, I see they don't ; but I'm only saying 
 what the theory is, which there is nothing to prevent 
 any one from putting in practice. 
 
 1 Video meliora proboque 
 Deteriora sequor.' 
 
 Or, as Byron says, — 
 
 ' Just skilled to know the right, yet chose the wroDg.' 
 
 And I don't suppose if modern history and modern 
 languages were the basis of education at schools, 
 boys would take any more kindly to them than they 
 do to classics. They would just as soon forget them 
 if they learn them under compulsion, and take just 
 the same dislike to them as they do to all other 
 kinds of education to which they are compelled to 
 give their attention. Then there's another argu- 
 ment that I had very nearly forgotten — Arnold's, 
 I believe, it was. He said that if the cultivation of 
 
176 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 classics was given up, our information and interest 
 would all be narrowed into the last few centuries, 
 and we should lose all concern about the glorious 
 history and literature of past ages, which is anything 
 
 but 
 
 ' a consummation 
 
 Devoutly to be wished.' 
 
 c Like Felix/ said Mr. Henry Villars, who had 
 listened attentively to Grey's zealous support of his 
 favourite studies, ' I am almost persuaded to be a 
 follower. It certainly does not seem easy to devise 
 a general system which shall be of practical ad- 
 vantage to each individual. But I still think that 
 modern languages and modern literature ought to 
 be more attended to in public schools/ 
 
 ' Oh ! I quite agree, with you there,' replied 
 Grey ; ' I think they ought to run alongside of the 
 others, but not to be put before them, when they 
 can always be thoroughly acquired afterwards, if it 
 is necessary. For that matter, I think children 
 ought to be taught French at least before they leave 
 their governesses, just as much as geography and 
 the elements of history.' 
 
 1 Well, I 'm glad to have heard your arguments,' 
 said Mr. Henry Yillars, as he rose with the rest of 
 the party to return to the drawing-room. 
 
 * Grey has been pointing out to me the advan- 
 tages of a classical education,' he said to Mr. Yillars, 
 as they left the room together. 
 
 1 Ah ! he 's a clever fellow, I believe. Harward's 
 very proud of him,' returned his brother. 
 
London Society. 177 
 
 Blanche came up to Charlie when the gentlemen 
 entered the room, and told him that the young ladies 
 were all anxious for a game of billiards. 
 
 1 Very well/ he said, ' I suppose the table's 
 lighted ; ' and accordingly after coffee had been 
 handed round, the younger members of the party 
 adjourned to the hall, in the centre of which was 
 the billiard-table. Mr. Henry Yillars sat down to 
 play piquet with Mrs. Charlemont ; and Lord Dufton, 
 Colonel Monk, and two of the elder ladies, made up 
 a rubber of whist in the adjoining room ; while 
 Lady Mary chatted with one or two others by the 
 fire, and Lord Harward sat by Lady Templeton on 
 a sofa, lamenting the change which had come over 
 society since they were young. 
 
 ' We have nothing like Almack's now,' he said, 
 ' where you used to meet every one you knew or 
 cared to see. If I go into a London drawing- 
 room now, I 'm half stifled with the heat at the 
 very door, and don't know one-third of the people 
 in the room.' 
 
 'Yes, indeed,' replied Lady Templeton, with a 
 sigh, ' there is a great change. Society has in- 
 creased so immensely, and one's circle of acquaint- 
 ance is necessarily so large, it is impossible to avoid 
 the discomforts one has to undergo.' 
 
 ' Why, in our day coming to London was too 
 great a business for people of small means to afford, 
 but now every one must have their season, or, at 
 least, a part of it, in London. The consequence is, 
 that there is not room to turn.' 
 
 VOL. I. n 
 
178 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 * Ah ! if I could but get my daughters well mar- 
 ried/ said Lady Templeton, ' how gladly I should 
 give up the wear and tear of the season ! You can 
 have no idea, Lord Harward, of the anxiety I go 
 through on their account. Year after year, and no 
 further on. It is very hopeless work.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Lady Templeton, I pity you/ said Lord 
 Harward. ' Fortunately for Lady Harward, my 
 daughter is disinclined for gaiety and ball-going, 
 and I 'm not sorry for it. The frivolities and plea- 
 sure-hunting of London life can do a girl no good.' 
 
 'And then people are so selfish and so incon- 
 siderate. You may worry your life out for them, and 
 they are never satisfied. I 'm sure it 's bad enough to 
 be obliged to take one's own daughters about without 
 introducing other people's. But they have no con- 
 science ; you wouldn't believe the number of appli- 
 cations I receive to get invitations to this ball, or 
 that party, or anything else they may wish done. 
 Last year, when I gave a ball at my own house, I 
 assure you I had a hundred and fifty letters asking 
 for cards for friends and people I had no acquaint- 
 ance with.' 
 
 ' It 's just that kind of thing,' replied Lord Har- 
 ward, ' that unconscionable pushing, that makes all 
 society in London so unpleasant. Where does one 
 see now those charming reunions there used to be at 
 Holland House, — where you used to meet all that 
 was most distinguished of its kind — wit, beauty, 
 talent, and all that made society pleasant ; where 
 you could walk about at your ease without having 
 
Society in London. 179 
 
 your coat torn off your back, and listen to the 
 conversation of your friends in comfort? — Ichabod, 
 Icbabod — the glory of the house is departed/ 
 
 ' That would be impossible nowada} r s,' returned 
 Lady Templeton, ' the wealth of the country has 
 increased so immensely, and is still so much in- 
 creasing, that we shall be more overrun by parvenus 
 and nouveaux riches every year/ 
 
 Lord Harward's carriage was here announced 
 to him, and he rose to go in search of Lady Har- 
 ward, whom he found with Mr. Villars looking on 
 at the game of pool, from which merry voices and 
 laughter had from time to time made their way into 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 1 Nothing like a billiard- table in the country/ as 
 Colonel Monk said, laying down his cards and wait- 
 ing for somebody to lead. 
 
 ' The best thing out/ said Lord Dufton ; ' no 
 country house ought to be without one — it's your 
 lead, Lady D.,' he continued to his wife, who was 
 in happy innocence of the interesting nature of her 
 position. 
 
 The dinner guests now began to take their leave, 
 wine and water were brought in, and the ladies soon 
 after retired, laughing, as they defiled up the broad 
 staircase, over some joke with which Colonel Monk 
 had lit their candles. 
 
 The gentlemen lingered for a few minutes about 
 the billiard-table, and then, after changing their 
 coats, adjourned to the smoking-room, with the 
 exception of Mr. Henry Yillars and Grey, who were 
 
180 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 not smokers, and who went to bed early with a view 
 to the next day's shooting 
 
 ' I wonder you don't turn out more pheasants, 
 Charlie,' said Lord Dufton, addressing Mr. Villars 
 as they sat over their cigars ; ' it's just as easy to 
 breed twice the number.' 
 
 i But I'm quite contented with five or six hun- 
 dred head,' was the reply ; ' there's no enjojTnent in 
 shooting your head away, as you do at places where 
 you get your couple of thousand in the day. I'm not 
 an advocate for those gigantic slaughter parties.' 
 
 ' Well, nor was I,' returned Lord Dufton, * till 
 I'd tried them once or twice. There's a deuced lot 
 of excitement in that quick firing, even if it does 
 give you a headache.' 
 
 ' You ought to turn out some buffaloes into the 
 park here,' said Colonel Villars, who didn't care 
 much about such tame sport as pheasant- shooting ; 
 * one of them would be worth all the pheasants in 
 the place.' 
 
 * And how do you think my neighbours would 
 like having wild beasts in such close proximity ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! rail them off, they wouldn't do anybody 
 any harm ; look at , and ,' and he men- 
 tioned one or two places where beasts of the kind 
 were to be seen. 
 
 Mr. Villars, however, was not persuaded, and 
 turned the subject by asking Colonel Monk if he 
 wouldn't have something in the way of soda-water 
 or seltzer. The Colonel was much too busily en- 
 gaged entertaining Charlie and Rowley with a story 
 
Wild Beasts. 181 
 
 of his young days at Oxford, when he was found 
 playing the fiddle on the top of the Corn Exchange 
 at foui 1 o'clock in the morning, to attend at present 
 to anything of the kind. Colonel Yillars soon got 
 upon his hobby of hunting wild animals, and rode 
 the poor beast almost to death, to the utter exhaus- 
 tion of his brother and Lord Dufton, who were com- 
 pelled to follow him. They were glad enough, 
 therefore, when their cigars were finished, and a 
 general move was made towards bed. 
 
 Charlie stayed for a moment or two in Rowley's 
 room talking about Cambridge, and then wished him 
 good night ; and was soon in dreamland with Emily 
 Charlemont, surrounded by a thriving brood of 
 young — pheasants. 
 
 The next day, and the next, they worried the 
 coverts, and on Saturday some of the party left. 
 
 Rowley stayed over Sunday, and left early in 
 the following week without having lost his heart to 
 Blanche's charms. Even her attractions and the 
 interest she showed for him as Charlie's friend were 
 unable to stir his lethargic emotions. There could 
 hardly be conceived a less susceptible nature than 
 his. How he was ever to form a grande passion, 
 such as to induce him to marry, none of his friends 
 could conjecture. 
 
 Mrs. Charlemont had been persuaded to prolong 
 her stay also into the next week ; and, to tell the 
 truth, she was nothing loth to acquiesce ; for, 
 frivolous as she was, she was sharp enough to 
 see that Charlie Villars was rapidly losing his 
 
182 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 heart a second time to Emily. And, like a pru- 
 dent mamma, she thought it right to further her 
 daughter's interests to the best of her power. 
 
 Charlie, of course, was rather young at present, 
 but she knew that boyish fancies were sometimes 
 productive of firm attachments ; and although he 
 was not at present a bon partly yet, as the ex- 
 pectant possessor of Mottistone, he was not to be 
 despised. And so she stayed on, and took a very 
 cordial and voluble leave of him when she left. Of 
 course he would come and see them when her 
 nephew was there — he mast become acquainted with 
 her nephew, and so on. 
 
 Charlie was the least thing disconsolate for a 
 day or two after Emily's departure, and thought the 
 succeeding visitors very uninteresting after the last. 
 But he soon recovered his spirits, and hunted 
 and shot in the neighbourhood and about the 
 country till the time drew near to return to Cam- 
 bridge again. 
 
 One night he stayed in London on his way, 
 did the play that every one was talking about, 
 and went to the Shoreditch station for the five 
 o'clock train, next day. Here he found a multi- 
 tude of returning friends, and made the sixth in 
 a carriage where Egerton, Exrnoor, and Eochfort 
 were already seated. 
 
183 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 'Ev \P0VO) CC7TO(f)6wi7 
 
 to rci(>fio$ avfyaKovo-u). — iEscH. Agam. 
 
 After the usual rush for conveyances and shuffling 
 of the pack at the Cambridge station, the several 
 cards found themselves arranged, according to the 
 principle of natural selection, by their suits in 
 different flys. Rochfort had his servant waiting 
 with one for him, and gave his carriage companions 
 a lift down. There was another full of third 
 Trinity men ; Travers, Carter, and Co. in another ; 
 and omnibuses filled with the ignobile vulgus of the 
 small colleges. 
 
 ' I'll be at Litchfield's in half-an-hour,' said 
 Egerton, as he left the fly in the Market-place ; and 
 the others promising to be there, went on to their 
 respective destinations. 
 
 Yillars left his luggage at his rooms to be 
 unpacked, and hurried off to the Atlienaoum, 
 where he found Castleton, Grey, Lowry, and a few 
 
 * M^n's shyness wears off with time. 
 
184 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 others who had come up from the country in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 ' Well, Charlie, how's every one in Gloucester- 
 shire ?' said Grey, who had been away from home 
 during the latter part of the vacation. 
 
 ' Rather dull at your being away. We had an 
 awfully good run last Thursday ; you ought to 
 have been out — three-quarters of an hour without 
 a check, very fast, and killed after another twenty 
 minutes in the open.' 
 
 1 Glad to hear it/ answered Grey ; l I've been 
 having some fair sport in Leicestershire, Harry 
 mounted me two days with Tailby, and we had a 
 good run each day.' 
 
 ' I suppose Tom won't be up this term,' said 
 Lowry ; ' he took his degree before he went down, 
 didn't he ?' 
 
 1 He's gone to Rome/ said Grey ; ' I heard from 
 him a few days ago.' 
 
 Some fresh arrivals now burst into the room, 
 and they all went off in a body to Litchfield's, 
 where Mrs. L. shook hands with them most gra- 
 ciously, Egerton and Lowry almost falling into her 
 arms. 
 
 The occupants of the tables in the inner room 
 were rather disgusted at this influx of swells, 
 and one or two who had been noisity recounting 
 their adventures in the vacation, became subdued 
 immediately, finished their dinners and left. 
 
 1 Send to my rooms for a couple of bottles of 
 
Dinner at Litch field's. 185 
 
 champagne, Ted/ cried Egerton to the younger 
 Litchfield. 
 
 * And to mine for some sherry/ cried another. 
 
 * Ted, will you kindly insinuate to your 
 young man that I require two bottles of cham- 
 pagne wine from French's at once ?' said Lowry, 
 solemnly. 
 
 * Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' And, here ! Also, I should like him to men- 
 tion that in half-an-hour or so we shall go 
 down there to drink claret. These, with haste, to 
 Harty.' 
 
 ' Yes, sir/ 
 
 ' You can send dessert down presently/ 
 
 After dinner they adjourned to French's, where 
 nearly every one who was up dropped in during 
 the course of the evening, and they talked over 
 the vacation, their hunting, the men who had 
 gone down, the term in prospect, &c. ; and Yillars, 
 who now no longer felt the incubus of his fresh- 
 ness weighing upon him, joined freely in the 
 conversation and felt more than ever the enjoy- 
 ment of University life. Two or three of the 
 most prominent men of last term had taken 
 their degrees and gone down, so that the fresh- 
 men, although these men were the best fellows 
 in the world, felt a sort of relief in associating 
 only with men who were more nearly their own 
 standing. 
 
 Egerton, and three or four more, were second- 
 
]86 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 year men ; as, probably speaking, were Lowry and 
 Rochfort ; but these latter prefixing respectively 
 ' Honourable ' and ' Lord ' to their names, counted 
 as third-year. Grey might have taken his degree 
 the term before, this being his eighth ; but as he 
 was going in for honours, he had to wait another 
 year and a half. Lawton had put off taking his 
 degree till June, that he might ride in the Oxford 
 and Cambridge steeplechase at Easter. 
 
 Yillars left shortly before eleven to get into 
 College before the clock struck, and pay a visit to 
 Rowley ; but found his door sported ; and Marston's 
 was afterwards tried with the same success. 
 
 Rowley was on his own staircase all the time 
 in the room of one Wilson, a man of sporting ten- 
 dencies, who was master of the foot-drag and had 
 kept the beagles at Eton. There were three or four 
 other men of the same propensities in the room, 
 who were all occupied in talking over the bags they 
 had made in the vacation ; recounting pursuits of 
 solitary woodcocks, or incidents of lying in wait 
 for wild fowl on the East Coast, to which most of 
 them belonged. 
 
 Marston was at Brooke's rooms in Jesus Lane, 
 where there was a goodly gathering of boating men 
 intent upon the prospects of the University boat in 
 the coming race against Oxford. Yillars retired, 
 therefore, to his own room, and occupied himself 
 before going to bed in setting in order the little 
 details of furniture and ornament which give an 
 inhabited look to a room. 
 
Shooting and Boating. 187 
 
 Every one next morning paid their tutors a 
 short visit in their respective lecture- rooms ; where 
 the lectures for the term, and arrangements con- 
 nected with private tutors and so forth, were settled. 
 
188 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 1 Mille hominum species, et rerum discolor usus 
 Velle suum cuique est, nee voto vivitur uno.'* — Persius. 
 
 ' Then he that sharp' d 
 And pocketed a prize by fraud obtained, 
 Was mark'd, and shunn'd as odious.' — Cowper. 
 
 Immediately on the commencement of the term, 
 Brooke, who was captain of the University Boat- 
 club, picked out a crew from the two trial eights, 
 which had rowed at Ely the end of the term before, 
 and took them down the river. Gordon and Mars- 
 ton were both tried at first, but the latter after a 
 day or two made way for a Johnian, who had more 
 muscle, and looked like doing more work. 
 
 There were various changes in the boat for a 
 fortnight or three weeks, during which time they 
 went down every day to learn to put it on at the 
 beginning, and to pull that short quick stroke that 
 has so often lost the race at Putney. When Brooke 
 steered, Gordon was once or twice tried as stroke ; 
 but the Eton stroke didn't please the Cambridge 
 eye, and he was taken off. 
 
 * There are many kinds of men, and each has his own 
 peculiar fancy. 
 
University Patriotism. 189 
 
 'I think there's the makings of a good crew, 
 don't yon ? ' said Thornton one day to Brooke as 
 they returned from running alongside the boat. 
 
 I Yes, there are one or two good men. Gordon 
 ought to turn out a good oar.' 
 
 ' Has Henderson decided yet whether he's going 
 to row ? ' asked Thornton, alluding to a small college 
 man. 
 
 ' The beggar won't tell one for certain. He 
 says he isn't sure whether his father will let him. 
 It does rile me so, men making a favour of rowing. 
 I sometimes think I shall cut the whole concern, 
 and let some one else get up a crew.' 
 
 * You couldn't well do that ; but it is very bad 
 form. Of course he can row well enough if he 
 likes.' 
 
 Marston came up at the moment, and was vio- 
 lently indignant at the idea of any one being so 
 wanting in patriotism as to refuse to uphold the 
 honour of his University when called upon. His 
 indignation was suddenly checked by a twinge from 
 a favourite corn caused by the inequalities of Ram 
 Yard paving- stones. 
 
 As they emerged into Bridge Street, a party of 
 mud -bespattered individuals met them returning 
 from the foot-drag ; Wilson, in all the pride of 
 whip and horn, at their head, and Rowley in the 
 midst. 
 
 I I didn't know you went out with the beagles,' 
 said Marston, addressing the latter ; ' did you find a 
 hare ? ' 
 
190 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 ' Yes, we had two pretty good runs, and killed 
 one hare/ 
 
 ' The beagles used to be rare fun at Eton, but I 
 haven't ever been able to go jout with them here, I 'ni 
 always rowing/ 
 
 ' I wish we'd had something of the sort at Har- 
 row/ replied Rowley, 'paper chases were allowed 
 for a time, and then the farmers kicked up such a 
 row about them, that they were stopped. I saw 
 Charlie Yillars riding the drag/ he continued, ' they 
 passed us out beyond the turnpike.' 
 
 Marston didn't evince much interest in Charlie, 
 and proceeded to his rooms in the Old Court, leaving 
 Rowley in conversation with a Musical - Society 
 friend on the hall-steps, who was reminding him of 
 his engagement to practise in the evening at his 
 rooms. 
 
 He found three or four others there besides him- 
 self at eight o'clock, who sang duets together, or 
 played the piano or violin after they had done tea, 
 till they were tired of music, when some sat down 
 to play whist, and one of the others induced Rowley 
 (who seldom refused to do anything he was asked) 
 to go with him to Brown's. 
 
 There was a languid pool going on, as usual at 
 this time of the evening, and the medley of remarks 
 that met the ear on entering was rather curious. 
 
 ' Red on white — Green's your player — Tizzy 
 with you, marker — Down, all the way — Ball up — 
 Player in hand — Star one, sir? — Jigger, marker — 
 D — my luck, that's the second time this evening.' 
 
The Turf. 191 
 
 The latter remark came from Charlton, who had 
 just been fluked into a pocket. He was generally to 
 be seen in the pool-room in the evenings, and was 
 supposed to have some chance of the Cue, which is 
 played for in the Lent Term. 
 
 The ties had not yet been drawn, so that Charlton 
 never played up to his game in the public room, 
 hoping to get a little money on before his real form 
 became known. Facilis descensus Aver no, and Charl- 
 ton was going down-hill rapidly. He was not 
 vicious by nature, and might, a year ago, have 
 thought twice about playing dark, or having re- 
 course to those little artifices which men who like 
 to get six to four the best of their friends don't 
 6cruple to resort to. 
 
 But he was becoming habituated to small under- 
 hand dealings of the kind from the unfortunate 
 example of the men with whom he lived — 
 
 ' 'Tis thus, that on the choice of friends 
 Our good or evil name depends.' 
 
 It is a great misfortune to Cambridge being so 
 near Newmarket. Many of the undergraduates 
 whose tastes incline towards racing and such- like 
 amusements, think it quite the thing to ape the 
 trickery and false dealing which distinguishes the 
 turf at the present day. Like the Spartan boy, they 
 seem to think discovery alone is to be avoided, and 
 that as long as they can practise cunning decep- 
 tions upon their friends and the public, and profit 
 by them, it is a perfectly harmless proceeding, and 
 
192 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 their cleverness rather to be applauded than other- 
 wise. Till the aspect of the turf and the example 
 of their older models materially change for the 
 better, there will always,, be a race of budding 
 swindlers at Cambridge (and at Oxford too), who 
 only await the less confined air of the world to ex- 
 pand into full-blown blackguards. It is the fashion 
 among some people to consider the ungentlemanlike 
 proceedings of the turf as pardonable, because every 
 one does the same. But the few bright exceptions 
 to the general immorality would hardly like to be 
 accused of these pardonable peccadilloes. Certainly 
 the unprejudiced spectator turns away with loathing 
 and disgust from such hideous roguery, and begins 
 to cry down a sport which, harmless in itself, is the 
 means of fostering such disregard of principle 
 among men who call themselves gentlemen. 
 
193 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ' And in that town a dog was found, 
 
 As many dogs there be, 
 Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, 
 And curs of low degree.' — Goldsmith. 
 
 . . . . l Odora canum vis.'* — Virgil. 
 
 ' The Cam and the Isis are to him (the don) better than 
 all the waters of Damascus.' — C. Lamb. 
 
 Villars brought Rowley up into his room a few 
 days after, to show him a small cur which he had 
 just bought for twice its value from Laxton, the 
 street dogmonger. Rowley, having lived lately with 
 men of doggish propensities, knew all about the 
 dogmen of Cambridge, Laxton amongst the number, 
 and smiled when Charlie told him of his purchase. 
 ' He'll only steal him again/ he said, ' and make 
 you give him another half-sov. for finding him.' 
 
 * He's a jolly little beast, though — isn't he ?' 
 said Villars, fondling a smooth terrier cur, to which 
 he had given the name of ' Toddy.' 
 
 i Doesn't your landlady object to your keeping 
 him in your room ? ' asked Rowley. 
 
 * Hounds. 
 VOL. I. O 
 
194 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 ' She hasn't said anything about it yet. Let's 
 take him out for a walk. I want to go to Death's 
 to order a horse for the Fitzwilliam ; will you 
 come ? ' ^ 
 
 ' Talking of nothing else,' said Charlie, as they 
 walked down Jesus Lane, ' had you a list of bills 
 over five pounds sent in to your father ?' 
 
 1 No,' replied Rowley ; ' I paid nearly all my 
 bills at the end of the term.' 
 
 ' Well, I had ; all my riding-bills, and one or 
 two others, a list of them. My father was horribly 
 disgusted, and sat upon me awfully. It seems that 
 there's some rule that every tradesman is obliged to 
 send in a list to the tutor of any bills of his pupils 
 over five pounds that are unpaid, and they forward 
 them to each fellow's father, that he may see how 
 his son's getting on. It's an awful nuisance ; I 
 didn't want my father to see my riding-bills at 
 all. He lectured me for being extravagant, and 
 paid them all, which was very jolly of him, I 
 think.' 
 
 They had reached Death's by this time, and Tom 
 Hills, the head ostler, replied to Charlie's inquiry for 
 a horse, that he had a nice mare that hunted reg-lar 
 with the Fitzwilliam. ' She's a first-rate fencer,' he 
 said ; ' the Honourable Grey rode her with the drag 
 yester-day, and there ain't no faster mare in Cam- 
 bridge across country — that there ain't ; I'm not 
 telling you no lie, Mr. Yillars, she's a right good 
 mare, she is. Mr. Carter he rode her with the 
 Cambridgeshire hounds a Saturday last, and he says 
 
Tom Hills. 195 
 
 when lie come home, he says, ' Hills, that's a right 
 good marc/ he says, ' and takes her fences splen- 
 didly,' he says. And I'm not a-goin' to deceive you, 
 Mr. Villars,' continued Hills, as though he had been 
 accused of telling a falsehood, ' as being a good cus- 
 tomer, I wouldn't go for to put you upon a horse as 
 I knowed wouldn't give satisfaction. There's Lord 
 Rochfort, he wanted to ride her with the drag a 
 Thursday, but I says, my lord, though you're an 
 old customer, I says, I'm not a-goin' to let my 
 horses out no more with the drag ; it don't pay Mr. 
 Death bavin' his 'orses ridden as Lord Rochfort 
 rides 'em. No more it don't, Mr. Villars ; and it's 
 a shame, it is, to go for to knock about a mare like 
 this, I says, that's fit to hunt in Leicestershire, so 
 she is.' 
 
 During Hills' oration Charlie had inspected the 
 mare, and, finding her good-looking and up to his 
 weight, engaged her. 
 
 ' She'll go on the night before, I suppose,' he 
 said, as they left the yard. 
 
 ' She shall go, Mr. Villars/ answered Hills. 
 ' The Honourable Grrej, and the Honourable Lowry, 
 and the Hearl of Castleton, has ordered 'orses to be 
 taken on, and she'll go with them.' Hills here 
 touched his hat suggestively. ' There was a little 
 job a Saturday, Mr. Villars, with the drag.' 
 
 Charlie produced the expected gratuity, and 
 they strolled back towards Trinity Street discussing 
 the impropriety of extra tips to ostlers and grooms, 
 who ought to be paid by their employers, instead 
 
196 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 of continually boring their master's customers for 
 fees. 
 
 Not many days after his recent purchase, Toddy 
 began to show symptoms 6f incipient mange, and 
 had to be taken to Callaby's, and left to be cured. 
 Villars was highly indignant with Laxton for 
 selling an animal to him which he must have 
 known was going to be taken ill. But Laxton 
 strongly asserted his innocence, and backed his 
 oath with such confident offers to prove that the 
 creature was in the enjoyment of perfect health 
 when it left his hands, that it was impossible to 
 get any satisfaction from him; and at Callaby's 
 therefore Toddy remained. 
 
 Callaby's is a curious establishment, a sort of 
 menagerie, or happy family (I have some doubts 
 about their happiness), where the occupant of every 
 cage is a moving tale of hungry melancholy. 
 Piteous cries from every variety of vermin rend the 
 noisome air. Owls, badgers, cats, ravens, curs, mo- 
 ribund rats, bulldogs, pigeons, guinea-pigs, and 
 every species of dog or beast which can in any way 
 minister to the amusement of the undergraduate 
 mind, is to be found there. A harmless rabbit 
 among other creatures, which is taken out periodi- 
 cally to be hunted by a dog, which has been trained 
 not to kill it. As Callaby charged so much per 
 hunt, he was rather disgusted one day when the 
 dog's unruly passions got the better of his care- 
 ful bringing-up, and he made an end of the 
 rabbit. Callaby himself has seen better days, 
 
Callaby. 197 
 
 and is now a perfect type of dog-vending 
 honesty. 
 
 Pigeon- shooting he has, too, in his yard. The 
 bird is tied to a string and potted at with bullets. 
 There's a gentle excitement about the sport which 
 the birds seem to enjoy, as their life is never in 
 much danger, and they probably know that every 
 bullet pays its way. 
 
 Callaby's is a great resort for doggy men on 
 wet days ; and here Yillars met Cunningham and 
 Travers one afternoon, when he had gone to inquire 
 after his cur. He had not seen much of Travers 
 since their first rencontre on his arrival. He never 
 liked the man, and the mutual dislike of the sets 
 they were in had widened the gulf which nature had 
 already placed between them. Callaby had that 
 instinctive perception of the gentleman, which men 
 of his stamp usually do possess, and left his 
 rats for a minute to show Yillars how Toddy was 
 going on. 
 
 ' Rare sport here,' said Travers, as Charlie passed 
 him, ' she's a rum un at rats ; ' pointing to a hideous 
 white female bull-dog, ' kills 'em like a beauty.' 
 Suddenly observing that her nose was bleeding, he 
 lifted her out of the pit, and proceeded to give vent 
 to various choice expressions in reference to those 
 d — d vermin, as he washed her mouth. 
 
 More rats were brought out and put into the 
 pit ; Cunningham threw in his dog, and in a few 
 seconds he had shaken their life out and stood 
 quietly waiting for more. 
 
189 r. '.' . i 
 
 sod to gii and draa 
 . a yom the on 1 on hia v 
 
 and watching i .,vd death as > with much 
 
 enjoyment. 
 
 rlio didn't Oai this kil 
 
 and left them. 
 
 I- the evening, after sou 'ultv, he per- 
 
 suaded his tutor to give him an absit to alee] 
 Hunting . and drove oYerthei 
 
 .\ a Lib Ea 
 The others wen going to ride over in the m 
 But aa Barnwell Wold was about thirteen miles 
 other side of Huntingdon, and Huntingdon 
 sixteen from Can." these lour pn 
 
 og v. oomfbrtably, and riding on h - axl 
 
 dav. 
 
 Thev had breakfast readi i iirht or ten a: 
 'George.' . • - . hum o'clock the oil 
 
 dro - e riding and some driving, t: 
 
 being no morning train to suit the Fi:.\\illiam. 
 Most of them were in pink and big ^ - - 
 tha: break fast was a lively meal. 
 oon in a heap a iida had a a 
 
 v and soul. 
 
 The Cambridge e< nt mustered 
 
 strong I -day, much to the discontent of the mem- 
 
 : the hunt, a .'t much care about 
 
 random style of riding that Cambridge m 
 gh i a I 
 
 A fox was tound almost inn v. 
 
//-/ rUi/ng u Uh the I 
 
 well Wold, and after galloping op and down 
 ridei for a quarter of an Lour to 
 1 ring, and ha* in to th 
 
 they got apon a freeh fox, and had a hunting run of 
 
 in the contra: nt- 
 
 ingdon, and eventually lost. Ot. - were 
 
 drawn blank, and at half-past three, when 
 hounds went home, the Cambridge parly found 
 
 then nineteen milea from Huntingdon, and 
 
 nine or ten from their hack*, Yillars had not fa 
 riding rery much this term and wa- pretty tired 
 
 when fa back to Huntingdon ; and thankful 
 
 enough that he had a fly waiting there and had 
 to ride to Gambrii 
 
 L v. 1 1 Lowton, and two or three more, although 
 
 had ridden from Cambridge in the morn. _ 
 
 were going to ride all the way back; and didn't 
 
 appear the lea -i done with their day. They had 
 
 ridden, taking the hunting at ten and twelve, 
 
 .t eighty miles in the day, and most of it fast 
 
 g. Such is hunting with the Fitzwilliam. The 
 nearest meet is twenty miles from Cambridge, and 
 that a bad one. 
 
 The want of hunting is a great drawback to 
 the enjoyment of men who care for riding. 
 
 >rd is a long way ahead in this respect. 
 
 . who hunt at any cost find it c. 
 
 too, having to go so far to meet*. What 
 with hacks, and t. :A groom'- anaee, and so 
 
 forth, unless a man rides his own horses, a dav with 
 
200 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 the Fitzwilliam comes to five or six pounds of good 
 money. 
 
 The trains don't run to suit the hunting public, 
 and Selby Lowndes doesn't often come within reach 
 of the 8.10 train. 
 
 The Oakley sometimes have sport ; but you may 
 miss the last train from Bedford at five o'clock, and 
 then where are you ? — at Bedford for the night 
 without an absit — unpleasant situation ! 
 
 The Cambridgeshire, unfortunately, cannot show 
 any sport. They occasionally have a fine burst over 
 a ploughed field and then lose their fox. (Things 
 may have altered since the time of which I write.) 
 
 Flack's hariers have a run sometimes, but 
 Mr. Flack is shy of having his meets known to 
 University men, as the scum of the riding crew 
 go out and ride over his hounds, and drive the 
 unfortunate master wild with their ungentlenian- 
 like behaviour. 
 
 There is, I believe, a railway open now to the 
 Pytchley, but it's a long way to go for a middling 
 country. 
 
 Bacing men, or rather would-be racing men, 
 would hardly care to give up Newmarket in ex- 
 change for a little better and more convenient 
 hunting ; but Oxford is certainly to be congratu- 
 lated on having so many packs of hounds, and no 
 Newmarket. 
 
 "When Villars arrived at his rooms again about 
 seven o'clock, he found an invitation to the Lodge 
 for the next evening, which he wrote to accept. 
 
The Lodge. 201 
 
 Esrerton and some others were also asked, and 
 Castleton was going to dine. 
 
 ' I've never been asked to dine/ said Grey, as the 
 Lodge was being discussed ; ' so I never go to stand- 
 ups/ 
 
 ' I was asked to go in the evening, last term/ 
 said Lowry, * and I didn't go ; and then I was asked 
 to dinner.' 
 
 Charlie went in with Egerton next night, and 
 found a crowd of other undergraduates standing 
 about the door talking to one another. There had 
 been a dinner-party before, and the people who had 
 been dining were sitting about the rooms talking, 
 with others who had come in afterwards. But no 
 undergraduate was sitting, and only one or two 
 mixing with the rest of the company. It is not eti- 
 quette for undergraduates to sit when the Lodge 
 condescends to extend his hospitality into that lower 
 region in which they are supposed to live ; and so 
 they stand about the door, and sometimes the Master 
 or his wife graciously speaks to one or two of them, 
 and sometimes does not. After a time they slink out 
 again, delighted with the evening's entertainment ; 
 and not having a much higher opinion of dons 
 and dons' wives, who look with the greatest con- 
 tempt upon the undergraduate — some of them pro- 
 bably with reason, having their own small colleges 
 to judge from — unless he is a noble lord, or titled in 
 some way. 
 
 From being accustomed to be made much of in 
 his own small sphere, the don grows daily in his own 
 
202 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 conceit, and forms the most extravagant ideas of his 
 own importance, which he can air with satisfactory 
 results in the presence of undergraduates ; but which 
 he finds is entirely unappreciated as soon as he 
 leaves the colleges of his University behind. 
 
 I once heard a don tell an undergraduate to 
 make way for him on the pavement, because he was 
 an M. A. All dons are not so absurdly silly as this 
 poor creature was : but their prevailing idea, I 
 believe, is their immense superiority over the rest of 
 the world, which they take to consist of undergra- 
 duates. 
 
 The younger don is often of a more genial 
 and less contracted turn of mind. It is only from 
 constant intercourse with the narrowing influences 
 of the society in which he lives, that he grows in 
 donnish propensities; and as he ascends step by step 
 to be head of a house, develops that grand contempt 
 for the world below which characterizes his conde- 
 scending intercourse with it. The don who is a man 
 of the world is looked upon with suspicion by his 
 fellow-dons, while at the same time he often excites 
 their admiration for social qualities, which to their 
 limited experience are comparatively unknown. 
 
 On the whole, though there are many very plea- 
 sant exceptions, who are dons in name only, they 
 are a gens inimica mihi. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, it is as well for the discipline 
 of the University that there should always be war 
 between the two parties. I don't suppose till the 
 
Dons. 203 
 
 lion lies down with the lamb we shall find the real 
 don making his bed with the undergraduate. Pro- 
 cul, oproculeste, profani, has long been their motto, 
 and will probably long continue to be so. 
 
204 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ' Seu lentum ceroma teris, tepidumve trigona, 
 Sive harpasta manu pulverulenta rapis ; 
 Plumea seu laxi partiris pondera follis ; 
 Sive levem cursu vincere quseris Athan.' 
 
 Martial. 
 
 'De gustibus non est disputandum .' 
 
 ' I bet you don't guess what I've been doing to-day. 
 Charlie/ said Rowley one night at rehearsal in the 
 A.D.C. 
 
 ' I don't know, I'm sure/ answered Yillars. 
 'Running with the drag?' 
 
 ' Snipe-shooting.' 
 
 'Where?' asked Charlie in astonishment. 
 
 ' In the fens. I went over with Wilson. We 
 cut second lecture, and started at ten o'clock ; wan- 
 dered about all day, and saw one jack snipe, which 
 we got at last, after firing about a dozen shots at 
 him.' 
 
 ' Do you mean to say that's all you got ? ' 
 
 1 We shot a lot of larks, and a hare. The man 
 said the moon wasn't right for the snipe to be in the 
 fen.' 
 
 ' It doesn't sound very lively. — There's Douglas 
 
Snipe-shooting. 205 
 
 calling you,' and Rowley started up to take his part 
 in the next room. 
 
 4 Why are you not acting this term, Harry ? ' 
 asked Villars, turning to Egerton, who was always 
 known by his Christian name. 
 
 ' I haven't time. I'm in for my Little Go. I 
 believe I shall be ploughed as it is. The Snipe's 
 an awful duffer to take a part. Little Brown says 
 he won't get through if he does.' 
 
 ' The Snipe ' was a sobriquet of Neville's ; a 
 small, sharp- featured, but good-looking boy ; who 
 was made a plaything of by his friends. ' Little 
 Brown ' was the name by which a popular coach 
 was known. 
 
 ' When do the University sports come off, Max- 
 well ? ' asked Egerton presently of one of the chief 
 athletes, who was reading a newspaper on one of the 
 sofas. 
 
 'Next Wednesday,' said Maxwell, looking up. 
 1 What are you going to run in ? ' 
 
 ' I don't think you'll catch me undressing for 
 the benefit of the public,' returned Egerton, laugh- 
 ing. ' I suppose you're going to win everything ? ' 
 
 1 1 wish I was.' 
 
 ' Isn't Turner rather a swell ? ' asked Villars ; 
 1 he won a lot of things in the third Trinity sports 
 last term.' 
 
 ' Yes, but he had no one to rim against. 
 He may win the two miles. He hasn't pace enough 
 for the shorter distances.' 
 
 ' Supers on,' cried Douglas, coming into the room, 
 
206 Charlie Villars at Cambridge, 
 
 and the new members of that term and last were 
 herded on to the stage to learn their uninteresting 
 part. 
 
 Next day Neville persuaded Charlie to come and 
 take a lesson in tennis at the old court. The latter 
 had no idea of the game, and looked on for some 
 time at Neville playing with the marker ; and 
 despaired of ever mastering the intricate problems of 
 chases, grilles, and winning galleries. 
 
 However, after a time he fancied that he had 
 picked up something. He observed that frequently 
 the ball struck a projecting buttress in the far court, 
 and that very often when it did so, Henry (the 
 marker) called ' Vantage ! ' so he decided that this 
 buttress was called; from some reason or other ' van- 
 tage/ He was puzzled, though, to understand why, 
 on making what appeared to be a good stroke, he 
 should come out with a good hearty ' deuce ; ' and 
 more puzzled when he found that he forgot himself 
 in this way impartially, whether the stroke was a 
 good or bad one. A more intimate acquaintance 
 with the marking of the game afterwards showed 
 him that the buttress was not ' vantage/ and that 
 Henry was not put out when he called 'deuce,' these 
 being merely figures by which the game was called. 
 Neville tried to explain the unaccustomed terms 
 while they watched some others playing ; but tennis 
 is not learned in a day, and he recommended Villars 
 to come and practise with the marker in the morn- 
 ing ; which he occasionally did during the rest of 
 the term. 
 
Tennis. 207 
 
 As there were rehearsals at seven in the 
 evening-, Charlie went to hall at hall-past five. 
 He met Marston on his way, who saluted him 
 with, — 
 
 ' You don't mean to say you're going to hall ?' 
 
 'Why not?' 
 
 * I thought you were much too great a swell for 
 that/ 
 
 Villars looked rather annoyed ; and Marston 
 continued, — 
 
 ' I haven't seen you there this term.' 
 
 * I go now and then. You've cut our end of the 
 table, or else you'd have seen me.' 
 
 Marston, Gordon, and their Eton friends, usually 
 occupied a different corner of the table to that where 
 he used to sit the term before with Yillars, Russell, 
 and Rowley. 
 
 Yillars was welcomed as an unusual guest by 
 his friends at his particular corner, and Russell 
 made way for him at the end. 
 
 1 1 haven't seen you for a long time/ he said. 
 1 1 suppose you're riding all day. By-the-bye,' he 
 continued, ' will you go in for the Harrow scratch 
 fours ? they're rowed next week.' 
 
 1 Training would be such a bore/ said Yillars. 
 
 * Oh ! but jo\x don't train at all. It's more for a 
 joke than anything else. Half the men who go in 
 have never rowed before.' 
 
 Charlie said he might put his name down if he 
 liked, and Russell promised to let him know when 
 the crews were drawn. ' Some beer, Lord Palmer- 
 
208 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 ston,' to a gyp who was dignified with, that name, 
 1 and please to draw it mild.' 
 
 ' Did you hear of Charlton getting proctorised 
 for driving on Sunday ? ' asked Rowley. 
 
 ' No; was he P' exclaimed the others. 
 
 ' The proctor met him coming back from New- 
 market with some other men in a dog- cart, and sent 
 for him next day/ 
 
 ' How did he know he was a University man ? ' 
 
 ' 1 fancy he 's pretty well known, he told me 
 the other day that he'd had a regular scrimmage 
 with one of the bulldogs a few days before. He 
 bolted from the proctor, and tripped up and came to 
 grief in a gutter, and they caught him. He cheeked 
 the proctor, and wouldn't give him his name.' 
 
 ' Rather bad form,' said Yillars. ' I was proc- 
 torised the other night,' he added, ' I walked down 
 a proctor's throat round a corner. He was very 
 civil, took off his cap, and asked why I was going 
 about without a cap and gown, and told me to go to 
 my room to get them.' 
 
 ' Weren't you fined then ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, of course ; I had to give him my name and 
 college, and the bulldog came next morning for six- 
 and-eightpen.ee.' 
 
 'I don't think I've met a proctor this term,' 
 said Rowley. 
 
 ' Nor I, till that evening ; it was rather hard 
 lines.' 
 
 ' Some man once sent the proctor a cheque for 
 his six-and-eightpence,' said Russell. 
 
Proctors. 209 
 
 I Another fellow I believe sent it to him in cop- 
 pers, and said he knew the benevolence of the 
 proctor's heart, and sent him the money in the form 
 best adapted for charitable purposes/ 
 
 I I should reply " Walker," to that story/ said 
 Russell. ' Besides, the fines don't go to the proctor.' 
 
 1 Don't they ? ' returned Villars. ' I don't know 
 — I believe the story to be a fact, though.' 
 
 After hall they adjourned to Rowley's rooms, 
 
 ' To laugh, and chaff, and quaff brown sherry,' 
 
 until it was time to go to rehearsal. 
 
 * I suppose you 're reading hard, Russell ? ' said 
 Yillars, when there was a pause in the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 ' Yes, pretty well.' 
 
 ' You '11 get a first in your May, won't you ? — I 
 shall have to begin to read soon.' 
 
 1 You '11 have to put on a spurt next term,' said 
 Russell, i as you haven't read for the last two.' 
 
 ' Do you read, Rowley ? ' asked Yillars, turning 
 to him. 
 
 ' I go to my coach three times a- week,' was the 
 reply, ' and do papers for him sometimes ; but I 
 can't read by myself, I go to sleep.' 
 
 ' You '11 be playing cricket next term, too ?' said 
 Russell. 
 
 * Rather ; they 're going to begin cricket next 
 week on the Trinity ground.' 
 
 1 In the middle of March ? — cold work.' 
 
 * They 've been playing on Parker's piece for a 
 vol. i. p 
 
210 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 long time. I got a fellow to give me a few balls 
 there the other day. I long for cricket to begin 
 again/ continued Rowley, ' there's nothing like it. 
 
 ' Rowing beats it/ said Russell. 
 
 ' Does it ! ' returned Rowley, standing up in de- 
 fence of his favourite pursuit ; ' rowing's nothing but 
 hard grind up and down the same water every 
 day — it's not half as fine a sport as cricket.' 
 
 ' It 's much finer exercise, and requires much 
 more endurance, and pluck, and self-denial, than 
 cricket.' 
 
 ' Yes, I daresay you want a good deal of pluck 
 to row in a race, but cricket requires all sorts of 
 other qualities — like patience, judgment, coolness, 
 eye, and a lot of others.' 
 
 ' You don't call " eye " a quality ?' 
 
 ' Perhaps it isn't a quality, but quickness of eye 
 can be cultivated by practice and perseverance, just 
 as you can get up your muscle by hard rowing.' 
 
 ' "Well, I 'd sooner row in the 'Varsity boat than 
 play at Lord's any day.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't. You ruin your constitution, and 
 what use is rowing to you after you 've left here ? ' 
 
 ' I don't see why you should ruin your constitu- 
 tion ; lots of men who have rowed in the University 
 crew are as healthy as you like, and a man who 
 has rowed against Oxford is a much greater swell 
 than ' 
 
 ' I'm blowed if he is !' said Rowley, breaking in. 
 ' You can't mention any rowing-man who's as well 
 known generally as Smith.' 
 
Rowing v. Cricket. 2 1 1 
 
 1 Yes, I can, — Jones/ 
 
 ' Fellows up here know, of course, who he is ; 
 but I bet you no one from here, except rowing-men, 
 know him/ 
 
 ' Well, none but cricketing- men know Smith/ 
 
 1 Don't they ? everybody's heard of him' 
 
 1 So they have of Jones/ 
 
 Charlie, who had been listening with some 
 amusement to the discussion, thought it would be 
 judicious to turn the conversation at this point, and 
 suggested that it was time to go to the A. D. C. 
 Rowley's warmth immediately subsided, and he 
 laughed with Russell over his own eagerness as they 
 walked across the court to the gate, both agreeing 
 to differ for the present on the respective merits of 
 their pursuits. 
 
 Russell turned off towards Pratt's to look in at 
 the pool-room, and Yillars and Rowley continued 
 their way to the A. D. C. 
 
212 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ' Reddere persona) scit convenientia cuique.' * — Horace. 
 
 The afternoon was a fine one towards the end of 
 March, and Tenner's (cricket-ground) was gay with 
 female dons, tradesmen and their families, and the 
 (lite of the Cambridge fashionable world, who had 
 come out for to see men clothed in light raiment 
 sontending for athletic honours. 
 
 There were eight or ten events on the card, but 
 the first heat only of some of the races was to be run 
 that day. 
 
 * Putting the weight' was the first amusement, 
 if such it can be called, and the Queen's man, who 
 won, received the mental thanks of the spectators 
 for bringing it to an end. 
 
 The hurdle-race followed, in which Rowley had 
 been persuaded by Fcllowcs to run ; but the greater 
 height of the hurdles, and the short distances 
 between them, compared with what he had been used 
 to at Harrow, brought him to grief at the third or 
 
 * Consistent in every character. 
 
University Sports. 213 
 
 fourth. He had been a very fair runner at Harrow, 
 had won his house hurdle-race, and run second for 
 the school, but had not gone in for athletics since 
 he came up to Cambridge; and was not, therefore, 
 in training or practice for running against men who 
 spent their afternoons in going over the course. 
 The bell rang again for the quarter of a mile, in 
 which Turner and Maxwell were to meet ; there 
 were four other entries, but the race lay between 
 the two former. Maxwell started off at a tre- 
 mendous pace, hoping to make it too hot for Turner, 
 and went up the hill in fine style; but Turner keep- 
 ing his head, in obedience to the advice of his 
 friends, who ran along with him, lay behind till 
 they passed the old pavilion, when the pace began 
 to tell upon Maxwell, and he gradually drew back. 
 Turner picked up step by step, and when they 
 passed the gate, put on a splendid spurt, and got 
 within a yard of him in front of the pavilion — 
 caught him up within five yards of the post — and 
 managed to get in half a yard before him, amid 
 tremendous cheering. 
 
 His victory was due more particularly to the 
 judicious advice of his trainers, and the tremendous 
 running Maxwell had made up the hill. So much, 
 indeed, had the latter taken out of himself that 
 he had to be helped into the pavilion to recover 
 from his exhaustion — 'quatit seger anhelitus artus.' 
 
 There was some form shown in the High Jump 
 which followed. 
 
 ' Five feet four looks well for us against Oxford,' 
 
214 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 said Maxwell to Egerton, who was standing with 
 Yillars at the door of the pavilion. 
 
 ' When are the sports between Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge V asked the latter. 
 
 ' Saturday week — we go to Oxford. I advise you 
 to come ; you're sure to meet a lot of Oxford men 
 you know.' 
 
 The walking-race followed, and was rather a 
 tedious concern. The winner did his six miles 
 within the hour, and didn't look happy at the end 
 of it. Seven miles in the hour has been done at 
 Cambridge, which is pretty tall walking for a short 
 man. 
 
 Pole-jumping and throwing the hammer were 
 included in this day's card, and the five-mile race 
 brought the proceedings to a close. The man who 
 won this race was in the habit of running the same 
 distance round Fenner's, and sometimes further, 
 every day of the term. If there had been a ten-mile 
 race he would have won it, without being a bit more 
 distressed, and would, to all appearance, have gone 
 on with that steady, swinging action all day, if 
 required. 
 
 There was a general move to the gate after this 
 race, and Egerton and Yillars got into their pony- 
 trap, which was waiting, and drove down to have a 
 look at the University boat, which went down at 
 half-past four this afternoon in consideration of the 
 sports. 
 
 The crew when in training are obliged to forego 
 the delicate dishes of their College hallat the appe- 
 
The 'Varsity. 215 
 
 tising hour of half-past four, and dine early on good 
 substantial food. 
 
 The ponjr-trap made its way through Barnewell, 
 up the Newmarket Road, and down the lane to the 
 Plough ; where they had not long to wait before the 
 boat came past at a swinging pace. The crew had 
 settled down into their places by this time and 
 rowed well together, putting it on well at the 
 beginning, but always with that short quick stroke 
 which even a long series of defeats has not induced 
 them to alter. The crew was a strong and heavy 
 one, with three of last year's oars, so that the 
 fancy were sanguine of winning. There was not 
 much chance of any further change before the race, 
 unless some one was knocked up by the training, 
 which is a severe test of endurance. Hard work 
 every day for five weeks. Beefsteaks, limited beer, 
 and early hours, are healthy enough ; it is the hard 
 training in the boat which tries the strength. 
 
 ' The 'Varsity/ as boating men delight to call it, 
 having passed, Egerton and Yillars returned to 
 Cambridge discussing its form; a subject about 
 which they knew very little. 
 
 The former proceeded to his coach, and Yillars 
 looked in at the A. D. C, where a farce was being 
 rehearsed. 
 
 There is no performance in the Lent term now ; 
 the Trinity dons, who consider it their privilege to 
 order all University arrangements, thinking that as 
 there were so many men reading for their Little Go, 
 or degree, or May examination, in this term, their 
 
216 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 getting through would be greatly facilitated by re- 
 moving the distractions of the A. D. C. This was a 
 more or less sensible plea ; but the other which they 
 advanced, founded on religious scruples, that it was 
 not right to have theatricals in Lent, savoured 
 rather of the precise piety of elderly spinsters. 
 
 Early in the ensuing week the Harrow fours 
 were rowed. There were five or six boats entered, 
 composed of crews out of which one or two at least 
 had seldom or never rowed before. The consequence 
 of course was a most delightful confusion, which 
 generally ended in one or more boats being swamped. 
 
 The victims on the present occasion were Villars' 
 crew. Two of his boat were good oars, but the cox- 
 swain had never steered before, and No. 2 had never 
 rowed before ; so that soon after starting he caught 
 the inevitable crab, and trying to right himself 
 upset the boat. No accident happened further than 
 this, as the boatmen on the bank hauled them 
 out with boat-hooks, or otherwise assisted them to 
 land. 
 
 Yillars struck work after this, and vowed he 
 wouldn't go down again. The others, too, were not 
 over-keen about it, as it was hopeless to expect to 
 win with such an undoubted duffer in the boat. 
 
 Charlie was considerably chaffed by his non- 
 rowing friends in the evening at the A. D. C, and 
 made up his mind that this should be his last ap- 
 pearance on the river. 
 
 There was a fuller attendance every night this 
 term at the performances, which were growing in 
 
Harroiv Fours. 217 
 
 favour and repute in the University. Vivian's get- 
 ups were particularly good ; he had laid his sisters 
 under contribution to furnish his head-dresses, and 
 some of his other garments, and the result was a 
 decided success. The ladies were delighted at seeing 
 a man looking so like one of themselves, and praised 
 the management of his petticoats deservedly. 
 
 No one could have suspected that male legs 
 walked so gracefully beneath that floating mass of 
 tulle, and he never was guilty of the enormity of 
 crossing his legs before the audience, as other male 
 females have been seen to do. 
 
 The end of March was now approaching, and the 
 weather was unusually mild for the season. The 
 cricket element therefore was already busy at work 
 on the Trinity ground. Not that mildness of 
 weather is required to bring it out. Infatuated 
 men have been seen to play in snow and east winds ; 
 indifferent to the fact that they are spoiling the 
 ground for the real cricket season by playing on it 
 when it is wet and soft. Rowley had been made a 
 member of the T. C. C, and induced Yillars, though 
 not yet elected, to practise with him one cold after- 
 noon after they had attended a congregation in the 
 Senate-house. The Classical Tripos list had come 
 out on the previous day, and most of the men who 
 had been in took their degrees at this congregation. 
 The galleries were filled with the usual mob of 
 undergraduates, who made the usual inane remarks ; 
 told the Public Orator that he really must speak up, 
 applauded the Vice- Chancellor for having ' well sat 
 
218 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 down/ when he took his seat to confer the degrees ; 
 and cheered the popular tutors ; giving a chorus 
 occasionally of ' He's a jolly good fellow.' 
 
 Neither Villars nor Rowley had been up into the 
 gallery on one of these occasions before. They were 
 rather amused, therefore, with the proceedings, but 
 disappointed with the undergraduate wit, which is 
 supposed to flash from these Senate-house galleries 
 with dazzling brilliancy. The small college men are 
 generally the medium through which the thin 
 stream niters; but they fail to keep up in the 
 Senate-house the repute which they doubtless enjoy 
 among the appreciating intellects of their own small 
 spheres. 
 
 The Trinity ground was brilliant with the varied 
 colours of the early cricketer, a long line of practi- 
 sing wickets all filled, and balls flying in all direc- 
 tions in dangerous proximity to bowlers' heads. 
 How is it that so few people are killed or dam- 
 aged at cricket ? at practising more particularly ; 
 where there are hard hitters all round doing their 
 best to cut one off from every side. 
 
 Villars thought it rather cheek his taking a 
 wicket when he wasn't a member. But Rowley 
 assured him that his name being down it wouldn't 
 matter, and continued to bowl to him till Charlie 
 was tired of seeing his stumps go down after every 
 straight ball, and Eowley went in. 
 
 Egerton came up presently with Neville fresh 
 from their Little Go examination, and bowled to 
 Rowley for exercise. 
 
Cricket Beginning. 219 
 
 ' How did you get on ? ' asked Villars. 
 
 * Ploughed to a certainty/ was the reply, ' I don't 
 believe I did three questions right. Brown says I'm 
 through, but I don't believe it. Beautiful ! ' he ex- 
 claimed, as Rowley's leg bail succumbed to a break- 
 back, which Egerton was perfectly innocent of intend- 
 ing. * I'll have a ball or two,' he added, as Rowley 
 asked if he wouldn't go in. ' Now, Charlie, see if I 
 don't cut you about,' he said, as he took Rowley's 
 bat. 
 
 The ground soon began to clear, as it was getting 
 near hall time ; and Egerton and Neville, as they 
 were reading, hurried away to dine. 
 
 'You're coming to supper with me to-morrow 
 night, of course ? ' said Yillars, as he walked with 
 Rowley up the Trinity Avenue. 
 
 Rowley had no other engagement and would be 
 delighted. He inquired presently how it was they 
 asked fellows to other men's rooms that they didn't 
 know. 
 
 'Oh ! you put up a notice in the room,' replied 
 Yillars, ' of tea at your place, on such a night ; and 
 then every body comes and brings any one else — I've 
 asked Charlton,' he continued, ' I thought I ought 
 to.' 
 
 ' He paid me a visit the other morning, ' said 
 Rowley: 'I don't know why. — But he sat in my 
 room for about twenty minutes, spitting on the 
 floor, and dropping his cigar-ashes all over the 
 place.' 
 
 ' I do think that is such a beastly habit,' said 
 
220 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Villars. ' Why should one's room be treated like a 
 pot-house parlour ? ' 
 
 They had arrived at Rowley's rooms by this time 
 and Villars went up for a moment. 
 
 ' Charlton told me among other things/ said 
 Rowley, ' that Roeper's man — you know the fellow I 
 mean — came to him with patterns or something of 
 the kind, and wouldn't leave the room ; so he took 
 him by the scruff of the neck, and kicked him down 
 stairs.' 
 
 ' I don't believe it.' 
 
 ' 1 believe it's a fact. The man was laid up 
 for a week, and Charlton had to pay his ex- 
 penses.' 
 
 Rowley here dived into his gyp-room in the vain 
 hope of finding some beer which he had left in the 
 morning. Xante's motto ' Abandon hope, all ye who 
 enter here,' might be inscribed over gyp-room doors; 
 for if any one ever hopes to find anything left 
 within, that has once come into the hands of his 
 bedmaker, he must be of a very sanguine disposition 
 — of course there was no beer. 
 
 ' You don't mean to say you keep accounts,' said 
 Charlie, seeing an important-looking account-book 
 lying on the table. 
 
 ' Yes, I do. I put down everything I spend.' 
 
 'I tried it once, but I couldn't keep it up. I 
 never could get them to come right, and it used to 
 irritate me finding a few pence wrong. I used gene- 
 rally to make them right by putting down what was 
 wrong to "benevolence;" " charitable purposes — a 
 
Term Ending. 221 
 
 penny;" " relief of the poor — fourpence;" it filled 
 up very well.' 
 
 I Satisfactory way of keeping accounts/ said 
 Rowley, laughing. 
 
 I I don't see the use of it, after all ; you know 
 what money you have ; and when it's gone, you 
 know you haven't got it any longer ; so that it 
 is no use bothering yourself to be sure that it's 
 gone.' 
 
 * I think it 's satisfactory to know how it goes, 
 though,' said Rowley. ' I 'm going to hall,' he 
 continued, taking up his cap and gown. ' You 're 
 not corning ? ' 
 
 1 No ; don't forget to-morrow night.' 
 
 To-morrow night went off very well; Villars' 
 landlord superintending the arrangements of cups 
 and glasses, and so forth. The supper was as good 
 as suppers from the kitchens usually are, and the 
 champagne was not of Cambridge growth. 
 
 The next week was to see the end of the term. 
 The University crew had already gone to Putney, 
 and some of the smaller colleges had gone down. 
 General meetings were being held of clubs for the 
 election of new committees, and Little Go men were 
 more than half through their labours. The last 
 preliminaries had been settled for the Oxford and 
 Cambridge steeplechase at Aylesbury, and the riding 
 element were in as much excitement about this as 
 the boating men were about the boat-race. The 
 inter- University steeplechase, one may say, concerns 
 individuals only, and many men are unconscious of 
 
222 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 its existence, while the boat-race is a national event, 
 and as interesting to the general world as the result 
 of the Derby. 
 
 There was an examination on Tuesday and 
 Wednesday before the exeats were signed, and on 
 Thursday most men went down. Many stay up 
 altogether during the Easter vacation, to read for 
 various examinations — Scholarships — the May — poll 
 degree in June, or the Voluntary — so that if the 
 weather is fine, and cricket feasible, the three weeks 
 may be made to pass quickly enough. Talking of 
 the Voluntary, which is an examination for men 
 going into the Church, called ' the Voluntary ' on 
 the lucus a non lucendo principle, because it is more 
 or less compulsory — it is curious to notice the kind 
 of life some men lead who are going afterwards to 
 take orders. If you see a man plunged in the 
 lowest kind of debauchery and dissipation, betting, 
 racing, swearing, and doing everything that a cler- 
 gyman ought not to do, you may be almost sure 
 that he is going into the Church. It may be that 
 they are making hay while the sun shines, that they 
 know they haven't much time for what they consider 
 the enjoyment of life, and are therefore making the 
 most of it ; but it 's a fact, that the fastest men of 
 Cambridge of late years either are, or will be some 
 day, ornaments of the Church. Livings, perhaps, are 
 in waiting for some ; others have had their line in 
 life chalked out for them by inexorable parents, who 
 don't take the trouble to consider their fitness for 
 the profession assigned, and the consequence is, that 
 
Voluntary Men. 223 
 
 they enter upon it with the fumes of debauchery 
 still hanging thickly around them. 
 
 ' "Well may the church wage unsuccessful war 
 "With such artillery arm'd.' 
 
 Such men would not be able to understand the 
 scruples of Greorge Morley ; their turf- training would 
 have taught them that it would be egregious folly 
 to refuse a good thing ; and looking upon their 
 profession merely as a means of increasing their 
 income, they often don't consider it necessary to alter 
 much their course of life, when they have actually 
 entered the Church. There are occasionally signal 
 instances of a complete change of habits and putting 
 off of the old man, but they are few and far between ; 
 and the edification to be obtained from the sermon 
 of a man whom you have known as notorious for 
 his bad language and bad habits can never be very 
 great, even if he has the capacity to string a certain 
 number of moral sentences together. 
 
 There is very little chance of Cowper's model 
 clergyman being made out of such materials : 
 
 ' Decent, solemn, chaste 
 And natural in gesture ; much impress'd 
 Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, 
 And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds 
 May feel it too.' 
 
 It would be better that there should be a still 
 greater scarcity of candidates than there is, rather 
 
224 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 than that the list should be swelled by men who are 
 so egregiously unfit — or careless of fitness, for a 
 calling for which the qualifications are something 
 more than mere freedom from vicious tastes. 
 
225 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 <J>E. <J>/a#v, ctoiKiTg' iXxvn tov crxvrov dpo/uov* 
 
 Aristophanes. 
 
 ' Green. Heaven save your majesty! and well met, gentle- 
 men.' — Richard II, Act ii. Scene 2. 
 
 The Oxford steeplechases at Aylesbury were to be 
 on Wednesday and Thursday, the inter-University 
 race on the latter day. Lawton, Carter, and Lowry 
 were to ride for Cambridge, and if it was agreed to 
 start four a side, Castleton was to be the fourth. 
 Lawton and Carter were to ride their own horses, 
 and Lowry a second one of Lawton's. The latter 
 being a noble lord, had persuaded the Dean to let 
 him go down on Wednesday, and had ridden in one 
 of the open races on that day. He could therefore 
 give the others the benefit of his experience of the 
 course when they walked over it on Thursday. 
 
 Yillars and Egerton, and several more, took 
 Aylesbury on their way to town, and arrived there 
 in time for the second race. 
 
 They were laying a slight shade of odds on 
 
 * Philo, I shall lodge an objection, you're crossing me. 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 Chrrlie V hilars at Cambridge. 
 
 Cambridge, and Lawton, having won a race the day 
 before and shown some good riding, was a hot 
 favourite. 
 
 A few minutes before three o'clock the saddling 
 bell rang, and the six riders were soon mounted, 
 three in light blue jackets and caps and three in 
 dark blue. 
 
 They're off ! All in a heap to the first fence, 
 where Lawton gets shut out, and has to pull up and 
 go at it again, getting left considerably in the rear 
 in consequence. He picks up a little before the next 
 fence, where one of the Oxford men comes a regular 
 ' howler/ and is out of the race. They all clear the 
 brook, come round the Stand, and keep away to the 
 right front, Lawton still some way behind — the 
 other four pretty well together. 
 
 After a couple more fences, an Oxford and a 
 Cambridge horse cannon, and both are knocked out 
 of time. Cambridge is up again first, and after the 
 leading horses, which Lawton is gradually drawing 
 up to. And now they are turning for home, Ox- 
 ford leading by a couple of lengths, followed by 
 three light blues ; Carter a few lengths a-head of 
 Lawton. They come over the last fence in the same 
 order, and the Cambridge riding tells in the 
 straight ; the Oxford man can't finish, and is passed 
 by Carter first, and then by Lawton, who brings up 
 his horse a la C ((stance, and wins by half a length ; 
 Carter second, Oxford man third. 
 
 There was some talk of an objection being 
 lodged against Lowry for cannoning against the 
 
Aylesbury. 227 
 
 second Oxford horse, but as one was quite as much 
 in fault as the other it was withdrawn ; and Cam- 
 bridge in the person of Lawton carried off the 
 Cup which had been subscribed for by the two 
 Universities. 
 
 Charlie started off with Egerton after the race 
 was over, to catch the next train for London ; the 
 latter going to his own house, and Yillars staying at 
 the Euston Hotel for the couple of nights he was to 
 be in town. 
 
 They dined at Francatelli's, and went to the 
 play together, and afterwards to Evans's, which was 
 crowded with University men, discussing the pros- 
 pects of their respective boats. 
 
 On Friday night it was infinitely more crowded. 
 It was rumoured that Royalty occupied one of the 
 boxes above. Nearly all the University men in 
 London turned up there between eleven and one 
 o'clock, and the row and confusion of tongues was 
 deafening. 
 
 There were loud calls at twelve o'clock for 
 Sidney, who was enthusiastically applauded on 
 appearing, and sang his song on the ' Signs of 
 the Times and your A. B. C amid repeated inter- 
 ruptions, — half the room joining in the chorus. 
 
 Charlton was standing on one of the tables with 
 his betting-book in his hand, and a drunken ex- 
 pression about his face, offering to take the odds 
 about Cambridge as often as anybody liked, but 
 could not come to terms with any one. lie had 
 backed Oxford some time before at even mono}", and 
 
228 Charlie Villars at Cambridge, 
 
 now wanted six to four to a small amount as a 
 hedge, the last accounts from Putney being favour- 
 able to Cambridge. 
 
 ' Are you going down t:o the boat-race ? ' asked 
 Eowley, coming up to Villars. 
 
 ' I promised to go down with Egerton yesterday, 
 but I didn't know it was going to be at eight 
 o'clock. One would have to get up about half- 
 past six.' 
 
 ' I shall go, if it doesn't go on raining like it is 
 now.' 
 
 ' Egerton said he'd meet me here. Have you 
 seen him?' 
 
 ' No,' answered Eowley ; ' but I see he's through 
 his Little Gro.' 
 
 ' How do you know ?' asked Villars, eagerly. 
 
 ' That's the list over there,' said Eowley, point- 
 ing to the mirror near the door. 
 
 * Is it ? let's go and look at it. Well done, 
 Harry,' Charlie exclaimed, when he found his 
 name. ' First-class ! — I'm awfully glad. — Here is 
 the beggar,' he added, catching sight of Egerton at 
 the door. 
 
 1 Am I through ? ' asked Egerton, hurrying up. 
 i First-class.' 
 
 * Hurrah ! I thought I was certain to be ploughed. 
 Who else is through ? I heard the Snipe had gone 
 a mucker. Hard lines after grinding for such a 
 time. I shall have something to drink,' he con- 
 tinued, ' on the strength of this. Waiter, — sherry 
 and seltzer, and a lump of ice.' 
 
Evans's. 229 
 
 ' What about the boat-race ?' said Yillars ; ' it's 
 going to be at eight o'clock. ' 
 
 ' Yes, I know. I think it's too early ; besides, 
 it's raining hard now, and it'd be so infernally 
 uncomfortable.' 
 
 So they agreed to give it up for this year, and 
 were very glad afterwards that they had, as it was a 
 horrible morning, and a hollow race. 
 
 Charlie met Marston next day, who told him 
 that he was well out of it ; he (Marston) had been 
 on the umpire's boat, and had got almost wet 
 through. Oxford had rowed away from Cambridge 
 the whole distance, and there wasn't anything like 
 a race at any point of the course. ' Crowds of 
 people,' he said, ' banks lined with umbrellas, and 
 four or five steamers rolling about full of men, 
 tiying hard to swamp the boats. I'm glad I went 
 down all the same, now it's over, though it was 
 deuced uncomfortable.' 
 
 London was swarming with undergraduates, 
 many of them parading the streets with rosettes of 
 dark or light blue, or with their colours somewhere 
 about their persons. There were ladies in blue, 
 cabmen in blue, horses in blue, and everybody 
 looking blue, from the nature of the weather. 
 Every young man was set down by every old man 
 as an undergraduate, much to the discontent of 
 some, who flattered themselves they did not smack 
 so distinctly of the University. 
 
 The billiard-matches were played in the after- 
 noon — at least one of them, the double match, which 
 
230 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Cambridge won. But winning a billiard-match is 
 a poor consolation for losing a boat-race. 
 
 In the afternoon of Saturday Charlie went home 
 for a fortnight, and came" in for the last of the 
 hunting, returning to town with his family for a 
 few days before going to Cambridge. 
 
 London was beginning to fill, the Easter recess 
 was over, and many Cambridge men were to be 
 seen in the Park in the morning, or what Charlton 
 called ' doing the Burlington,' late in the after- 
 noon. 
 
 ' That's the sort of man I can't stand,' said 
 Egerton one morning to Charlie, as they were 
 riding in Rotten Row, the conversation having 
 turned upon Charlton and creatures of a similar 
 nature. 
 
 ' They think they're doing the correct thing by 
 sauntering up and down the Burlington Arcade or the 
 Park, staring at every woman they meet. I wonder 
 you talk to that fellow Charlton ; he must be an 
 awful cad.' 
 
 ' I can't well cut him/ replied Villars ; ' he was 
 in my house at Harrow.' 
 
 ' He dresses in such an awful way. Bright blue 
 coat, flaring satin scarf, light bags, and yellow 
 gloves/ 
 
 ' He thinks he's no end of a swell,' said Yillars. 
 
 1 He may be that,' returned Egerton, ' but he 
 doesn't look like a gentleman. Isn't that Lawton?' 
 he added, pointing to a man riding a black horse in 
 front. 
 
Burlington Men. 231 
 
 ' It looks like his seat,' said Charlie, and they 
 cantered up to him, and found that it was his seat. 
 He had returned the day before from a steeple- 
 chase meeting at Bedford. 
 
 ' Won my race/ he said ; ' walked away from 
 them. I was offered a couple of hundred for Black 
 Eagle.' 
 
 ' Did you take it ? ' 
 
 1 Not I ; he's worth a good deal more than that. 
 You're not coming back to Cambridge this after- 
 noon, I suppose?' 
 
 The other two denied any consciousness of such 
 intentions, and Lawton continue^, ' I want to go 
 down once or twice next term, and I've lost two, so 
 I have to go up early to keep it.' 
 
 ' You'll find one or two fellows up there for pro- 
 fessor's certificates,' said Egerton. 
 
 ' What a nuisance ! ' exclaimed Lawton, sud- 
 denly reminded that he ought to have been in 
 for this examination too ; ' I forgot all about this 
 confoimded professor, and I don't believe there are 
 any lectures next term.' 
 
 ' You'll have to come up in the October term.' 
 
 A certificate of having passed the examination of 
 one of the University professors (who lecture once a 
 week in certain terms on different subjects) is re- 
 quired before a degree can be conferred. But it is 
 possible to attend a set of these lectures, and get a 
 certificate, after passing the ordinary degree exanii- 
 tion. Men going in for honours are not required to 
 attend professors' lectures, but very often do so from 
 
232 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 choice ; as the professors are always distinguished 
 men in their particular lines, and much information 
 is to be picked up from them in the weekly hour 
 which they devote to the University. 
 
 On the following Monday Charlie returned to 
 Cambridge, and found many men already there. 
 There is not much to do in the Easter vacation ; 
 hunting is beginning to be out of season ; there is 
 no shooting ; and fishing only in favoured localities ; 
 London is dull and empty, and there is more amuse- 
 ment to be found, and there are more friends to be 
 met, at Cambridge than elsewhere ; so that many 
 return before the time. 
 
233 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 * They boated, and they cricketed ; they talked 
 At wine, in clubs, of art and politics ; 
 They lost their weeks ; they vext the soul of deans ; 
 They rode, they betted, made a hundred friends, 
 And caught the blossom of the flying terms. 1 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 Lives there a Cambridge man who does not look 
 back with pleasurable emotions upon his first May 
 term, with its bathing, canoeing up to Granchester, 
 cricket, boat-races, Newmarket, lounging at the col- 
 lege-backs or eating ices at Litchfield's ; its sherry- 
 cobblers and iced lemonade, and the hundred-and- 
 one other mild delights amid which he dreamed the 
 happy hours away? The only drawback to the 
 complete enjoyment of the freshman's May term is 
 the sense of an impending examination looming in 
 the future, which must be read for, and for which he 
 is obliged to give up cricket-matches in the country, 
 and other seductive pleasures which are more in 
 harmony with the sunny weather than the sombre 
 atmosphere of a coach's back room. 
 
234 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Villars had not given much time as yet to his 
 May subjects, and although he had been pretty 
 regular at lectures, he had not gained any great 
 amount of information froin. them. 
 
 Well-meaning dons as a rule lecture over the 
 heads of their lecturees, who consequently pay little 
 attention to what is going on, and as they are 
 seldom asked to construe, they seldom prepare 
 the subject beforehand. Accordingly, when the 
 May examination approaches, the whole of the 
 ground they, have to go over is almost new to 
 them. 
 
 "When the system of education is laid down for 
 the many, it seems a great mistake to lecture to the 
 esoteric few. Not one man in ten is the least con- 
 cerned about the variations in the reading of any 
 particular line, and is utterly indifferent to the 
 respective merits of the several manuscripts which 
 are quoted. The consequence is that they never get 
 interested in what they are doing ; for if at any time 
 the subject becomes amusing, the thread of their 
 interest is rudely broken off by a dry and learned 
 disquisition on a particle, and the impropriety of 
 the author's placing it in such a position ; an enor- 
 mity which the astute lecturer implies that he never 
 would have been guilty of himself, with his more 
 intimate knowledge of the author's language. Simi- 
 larly in mathematics, the lecturer generally takes 
 too much knowledge for granted, and proceeds to 
 work out his problems for the enlightened half 
 dozen, while the majority of the lecture-room see 
 
Lecturers. 235 
 
 the result, but cannot tell whence it came or whither 
 he may go next. So they give up in despair the 
 attempt to follow, and learn nothing. 
 
 Yillars' coach had had an easy time of it, as far 
 as he was concerned, for the last two terms ; but he 
 now impressed upon him that if he wished to pass 
 creditably he must attend more regularly during the 
 next six weeks before the examination. 
 
 Charlie was a fair enough performer at mathe- 
 matics, and still cherished hopes of going in for 
 honours. He could read these subjects therefore — 
 Trigonometry, Algebra, and Euclid by himself, and 
 put on a coach for the classical part. 
 
 It was very hard to give up the mornings always 
 to reading, instead of lounging about the backs of 
 the colleges in the warm sunshine, or lying under 
 the shade of the weeping willows watching the 
 current glide lazily by. It was harder still for 
 Rowley, who was devoted to cricket, to give up 
 matches in the country, and content himself with 
 Fenner's and the Trinity ground ; though he had 
 cricket enough there to keep him from doing 
 much reading. He had become a member of 
 Fenner's, and had played in the eighteen fresh- 
 men on his reputation from Harrow ; without 
 however distinguishing himself, few freshmen 
 do in their first match. However, the captain of 
 the eleven was a Harrow man, and Rowley was 
 played again soon after against Norfolk, with better 
 success. 
 
 Charlie, at his instigation, had been made a 
 
236 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 member of Tenner's also, but seldom practised 
 there, thinking himself not good enough to play 
 with all the swells of the University. He used 
 therefore to indulge his / taste for mild cricket 
 on the Trinity ground, with Egerton and Xeville 
 generally, who were a little better than him-' 
 self. 
 
 The second week after the term began the Xew- 
 market 1st Spring Meeting was held, and Yillars 
 turned out with the rest of the world to see the Two 
 Thousand. Docet experientia — this time he had a 
 hack sent on to ride on the course, and drove over 
 in a fly with Egerton and luncheon. 
 
 The road from Cambridge was like the Derby- 
 day road to Epsom, on a small scale. Every variety 
 of machine, from the stately drag to the lowly pony- 
 trap, might be seen defiling through the turnpike ; 
 while the smooth grass along the roadside was being 
 indented with nianv a hoof of hack. 
 
 At Bottisham, Egerton had the satisfaction 
 
 of hearing that Gamester, the favourite, on which 
 
 he had pinned his faith and his money, was at a 
 
 shorter price ; and Charlie, having drawn the same 
 
 horse in the lottery, could sympathize in his satis- 
 faction. 
 
 The Athenaeum lottery was not much to win. 
 Fifteen or twenty members at a sovereign each 
 didn't make a great total ; but twenty pounds is not 
 always to be sneezed at. 
 
 Yillars never betted ; he had wisely followed the 
 advice which an old stager had given him before 
 
Newmarket 1st Spring. 237 
 
 going up to Cambridge, never to bet with gentle- 
 men ; and many men bad told bim since, tbat it 
 never paid in tbe long run. 
 
 Egerton dabbled a little in racing, and declared 
 that when he ought to have won on the Derby of 
 the last year, he had really lost considerably owing 
 to men going down and forgetting to settle their 
 debts ; and others being hard up and unable to pay, 
 and so forth. 
 
 Bookmakers, on the other hand, are obliged to 
 have the money forthcoming, or they lose their 
 character for solvency ; and, besides, there is no 
 occasion to scruple about asking them to pay ; a 
 proceeding which gentlemen like to avoid if possible 
 between themselves. 
 
 The heath at Newmarket presented a very differ- 
 ent appearance from the last time Charlie had been 
 there, on the Cambridgeshire day. Everything, 
 even the bare heath, looked bright and cheerful, 
 with crowds of horsemen and pedestrians moving 
 about it, and long lines of carriages which had taken 
 up their positions for the great race — a great con- 
 trast to the gloom of a murky afternoon at the end 
 of October. Their postilion conducted them down 
 to the back of the Stand, and took out his horses 
 under the hedge ; while Rochfort's servant, who had 
 shared the box-seat with the luncheon hampers, pro- 
 ceeded to unpack them. 
 
 Egerton had his own hack, which one of Death's 
 men had brought over with Charlie's, and was walk- 
 ing up and down when they arrived. 
 
238 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 I Are you coming into the betting-ring ? * he 
 said, as they mounted. 
 
 I I may as well if you're going/ said Yillars ; 
 1 I'm not going to bet though.' 
 
 * It's hardly worth while then, you have to pay 
 half a sov.' 
 
 Charlie, accordingly, took up his position outside 
 the wire fencing amongst a lot of other horses and 
 carriages, while Egerton gave his horse to a man to 
 hold and went into the enclosure. 
 
 The numbers were just up for the second race, 
 and the shouting of the bookmakers had begun. 
 ' Two ponies to one I '11 lay ; ' ' Here's ten pound 
 to five on the field ; ' ' Some of these outsiders I '11 
 bet against ;' ' I '11 lay two fifties ;' and other ejacu- 
 lations of a like nature were issuing from the sten- 
 torian lungs of the leviathans who took their pastime 
 therein. 
 
 The horses were seen in the distance going down 
 to the post, and in a few minutes the ring and en- 
 closure were cleared ; riders, carriages, and pedes- 
 trians, all scurrying across to the winning-post, or 
 to some place near the ropes. 
 
 ' I 've backed the favourite for a trifle,' said 
 Egerton, as he galloped across with Charlie to the 
 other side of the course, where all the riders were 
 collected. 
 
 They had hardly edged themselves in, when the 
 flag fell, and in a minute afterwards the leading 
 horses are at the ropes, past them like a flash, and 
 the favourite beaten. 
 
The Betting Ring. 239 
 
 The next race was run with a similar result as 
 regarded the favourite, and Egerton again selected 
 the wrong one, but bore his losses apparently with 
 perfect indifference. 
 
 After the next race they went to luncheon, where 
 they found a crowd of other men, past or present, 
 sitting or standing about the fly, in every stage of 
 sandwich and cold food. 
 
 Egerton and one or two others scrambled through 
 their luncheon and started off to the ring, where the 
 numbers were just going up for the Two Thousand. 
 
 1 Gamester's a hot favourite/ cried the former, 
 meeting Charlie as he came out shortly after, ' I 've 
 just put another fiver on, and if he doesn't win I 
 shall swear. Come up and look at the horses.' 
 
 Away they galloped to the crown of the hill, 
 where the horses were making their way to the 
 starting-post amongst a crowd of critics, who watched 
 them take their preliminary canter, and then gal- 
 loped back at speed to put a little more money on 
 their favourite, if they liked his going. 
 
 Villars and Egerton looked them over as they 
 gathered towards the starting-post, and then hurried 
 back to take their places at the ropes, well pleased 
 with Gamester's appearance. Not that they were 
 judges, but they thought they knew something about 
 it, and it was a harmless satisfaction. 
 
 The ring was empty again, the bookmakers had 
 mounted their traps and were now ranged along- 
 side the ropes standing on the roofs or box-seats, 
 or wherever they could get their heads up ; shouting 
 
240 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 the odds to the last minute, and making frantic and 
 perspiring exertions to write down the horses they 
 were not yet full against. 
 
 Two to three horses were restive at the post, and 
 it was a good half-hour before the white flag at the 
 top of the hill went down. A dreadful half-hour it 
 was for some, and even the bookmakers became 
 gradually subdued as the time wore on and 
 increased the nervous excitement of backers. 
 
 At last the flag is lowered, and in a second or 
 two they are seen round the corner, Woodman 
 making the running for Gamester at a rattling pace, 
 a hundred yards in front of the rest. Down the 
 hill they come, and Woodman draws back to his 
 horses ; and at the Bushes, drops behind with one 
 or two others that are out of the race. Gamester 
 lies over on the far- side, slightly behind Marksman 
 and Fairplay, the only others it seems that he has 
 to fear now. The pace has been severe and the rest 
 of the field tail off, these three coming well to the 
 front. Gamester creeps up along the ropes, and 
 Marksman's jockey thinks he has Fairplay safe, and 
 doesn't observe Gamester till they are within some 
 dozen lengths of the winning-post. Till then he 
 had not moved on his horse, but now he gets his 
 whip out, and a vigorous set-to they have in the 
 next few lengths. 
 
 The excitement is tremendous. The people near 
 the ropes hold their breath as they race past neck 
 and neck. Both jocke} r s are doing all they know, 
 and it 's anybody's race till within a couple of 
 
The Two Thousand. 241 
 
 lengths of the post, when distance comes with one 
 of his splendid rushes, and lands Gamester the 
 winner by a neck. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! old boy/ cried Villars, as Gamester's 
 number went up, slapping Egerton on the back to 
 let out his delight. 
 
 Egerton had been standing up in his stirrups 
 while they were racing past, shouting ' Gamester 
 wins ! ' — ' Gamester ! ' in the most excited tones, and 
 now the flush of excitement had died away and 
 given place to a quiet look of satisfaction, which 
 augured ill for the bookmakers. 
 
 ' The Earl must have dropped a good lot/ he 
 said, as they rode up to look at the horses returning 
 to the paddock. ' I know he backed Marksman 
 rather heavily. ' 
 
 Castleton used to back his fancy in the most 
 reckless way, and bid fair to run through his pro- 
 perty almost before he came into it : — 
 
 1 In squandering wealth was his peculiar art.' 
 
 He met them shortly after, and said carelessly 
 that he had lost ' a little ; ' which ' little ' repre- 
 sented a larger sum than he cared to name. 
 
 The races following the Two Thousand were not 
 interesting, small fields of platers and a walk over, 
 so that Charlie was not sorry when Egerton said 
 that he didn't care about staying for the last race. 
 
 ' You've won on the day, haven't you ? ' he asked 
 when they had cleared the Heath. 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 'I'm just trying to see how I stand/ replied 
 Egerton, looking over his book. ' Pretty well. I 
 wish I'd backed Gamester for more, he was a cer- 
 tainty. I should have done very well if I hadn't 
 lost on all the small races. As it is, I win forty on 
 the day/ 
 
 Charlie thought he ought to be very well satis- 
 fied. But the betting man never is satisfied ; he 
 always ought to have done something which he 
 did not do, or not done something which he did do ; 
 or he had hard lines in not being able to get on 
 some horse that won ; or was the victim of some 
 other adverse circumstances, which made a consid- 
 erable difference in his account. 
 
 Egerton would have thought last year that forty 
 pounds was a good day's work, when he was taking 
 sevens to four and fives to two. But increasing 
 confidence brought a proportionate rise in the 
 amount of his speculations, and it is not easy to 
 say what he would have considered a good day 
 now. 
 
 Many men went over to Newmarket every day, 
 sometimes getting leave from hall, and sometimes 
 coming back in time. 
 
 Yillars, not being a betting man, contented him- 
 self with going over on the Thursday again for the 
 One Thousand. 
 
 Charlton came up to him as he was riding back 
 with Grey on this day, and asked him to dine with 
 him the following night. Taken aback for the 
 moment, he promised to do so, and repented of his 
 
The Cambridge Hack. 243 
 
 rashness the next minute. The prospect of meeting 
 Charlton's friends was not a pleasant one ; but 
 there was no help for it now. Charlton informed 
 him that he won four hundred over the Two Thou- 
 sand ; but as he was in the habit of considerably 
 exaggerating his winnings that they might redound 
 to his credit for acuteness, Charlie divided the 
 amount in his own mind by four; and even then 
 the result exceeded by some pounds the real sum 
 that he had won. 
 
 He was not long troubled with Charlton's com- 
 panionship, for Travers and Cunningham came by 
 soon after, and he joined them ; bucketing his 
 wretched horse home to Cambridge, regardless of 
 its remonstrances and nagging pace, which were a 
 natural consequence of galloping to Newmarket in 
 the morning and about the course all day. 
 
 It is true that the Cambridge hack fleeth because 
 he is a hireling ; but there is no reason why he 
 should be ridden to death because he is a hireling. 
 His powers of endurance may be put to any reason- 
 able test on this plea, but cruelty to animals cannot 
 be defended by such an argument, and spurring 
 into a gallop a jaded beast that can hardly walk, 
 when there is no necessity for it, comes decidedly 
 under that head; and is by no means of unfrequent 
 occurrence at Cambridge. 
 
 It is natural that no one should have respect 
 for any hack's legs, or the contingency of their 
 not lasting their allotted time, when the use of 
 them is being heavily paid for, and they are not the 
 
244 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 property of the rider. But then while the rider 
 is amusing himself by going at a good pace along a 
 hard road, he is not hurting the animal directly. 
 The latter probably likes Xo hear the clatter of its 
 own hoofs underneath, and does not see a long 
 period of decrepitude and premature decay in a cab 
 awaiting him in the future ; any more than the 
 schoolboy, who chumps his daily quantum of hor- 
 rible sugar-plums, has visions of a toothless old age 
 and grinning gums. 
 
245 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Theocritus. 
 
 ' Host. Here, boys, here, here ! Shall we wag ? 
 ' Page. Have with you ; — I had rather hear them scold 
 than fight.' — Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 In the summer term, any member of the College who 
 prefers to dine in hall at two o'clock, instead of at 
 half-past four, can do so by leaving his name at the 
 Butteries. The majority of the undergraduates 
 avail themselves of this privilege, two o'clock being 
 a convenient time for luncheon, and chops, cold meat, 
 and jellies a natural food for that time of the day. 
 
 Egerton had migrated from the second-year 
 men's quarters, and taken his place with Villars and 
 one or two more at the freshmen's table, in spite of 
 the marker's objections ; and after hall on Friday, 
 having given up Newmarket for that day, and re- 
 tired on his winnings, he proposed to show Charlie 
 the way up to Granchester in a canoe. 
 
 The latter accordingly, after depositing his cap 
 and gown at his rooms, and releasing Toddy (who 
 
 * All nature was bathed in summer fragrance. 
 
246 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 was now reinstated in his lodgings), called for 
 Egerton in the Market-place, and they proceeded 
 down Trinity Lane to the boats at the bridge ; 
 choosing the uneven walking of Trinity Lane in 
 deference to Toddy's feelings, which ran the risk of 
 being outraged by the New Court porter if he was 
 seen passing through college. 
 
 It was a charming afternoon, not a cloud upon the 
 great blue vault overhead — the bridges and willows 
 mirrored in the glassy surface of the river — the white 
 walls and fretted roof of King's glistening in the 
 afternoon sun — 'and the hum of insects and song of 
 birds floating lightly on the breathless atmosphere, 
 as they passed the clustering elms upon the bank. 
 Even the dead wall of Queen's looked less dead in 
 the general brightness ; and the dark, Cocytus-like 
 stream that flows beneath its brickwork, tried to 
 sparkle in the occasional sunlight which broke 
 through the foliage overhead upon the dripping 
 oars. 
 
 The colleges were soon left behind, and the 
 boats hauled up over the lock into the stream above ; 
 and they glide along past the boat-house and over- 
 hanging trees, into the open fields. Here they come 
 upon the town bathing-place, where they have to 
 run the gauntlet of a shower of small clods from the 
 refuse of the slums. Condign punishment is out of 
 the question, for if pursued these small fiends 
 (being in a state of nature) fly into the water. 
 
 Egerton, having been touched upon the head by 
 a hardish morsel, was only prevented by Charlie's 
 
Bail ting -sheds. 247 
 
 superior prudence from landing and giving chase. 
 As it was, like the knight of old, he swore and he 
 rowed away, ' chewing the cud of bitter fancy/ till 
 after pulling a short distance further, ' under the 
 shade of melancholy boughs/ they arrived round a 
 corner at the bathing-sheds. 
 
 These sheds are a rude erection of timber, con- 
 structed for the purpose of screening the bathers 
 from public view behind. Here, on summer after- 
 noons and evenings, crowds of naked undergraduates 
 may be seen enjoying the doubtful pleasure of 
 plunging about in a narrow and muddy stream ; 
 going head-foremost at intervals through a coating 
 of horrible-looking scum ; an accumulation of un- 
 clean matter, which the sluggish current has not 
 energy enough to carry away. 
 
 ' This doesn't look much better than Ducker/ 
 said Charlie to Russell, as he passed him in the 
 water. (Ducker, or Duck-puddle, is the name of the 
 Harrow bathing-place) . 
 
 ' It isn't always as bad as this/ gasped Russell ; 
 ' there's no wind to-day, and not much current to 
 take on the weeds and beastliness.' 
 
 He swam up alongside of Charlie's boat until 
 he was brought up by weeds, which, when the 
 water is low, even light boats pass with difficulty. 
 Egerton and Yillars threaded their way through 
 them, and on 
 
 ' By many a field and fallow 
 And many a fairy foreland set, 
 With willow weed and mallow,' 
 
248 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 up to the mill, where they got out and hauled 
 their boats across the road, and continued up 
 to Byron's Pool, about a quarter of mile further 
 on. ^ 
 
 This romantic spot, as from the name one would 
 suppose it to be, is used for washing sheep, and is 
 not a clear and glassy mirror where ' each drooping 
 tree, each fairy flower/ is ' reflected in the crystal 
 pool ; ' where you undress on a velvet sward dis- 
 tinct with violet and primrose. Its chief recommen- 
 dation is, that being at a greater distance from 
 Cambridge than the bathing- sheds, it is less fre- 
 quented. Having come so far, the two canoes un- 
 dressed, and disported themselves for a time in the 
 water, and then hurried back to Cambridge to be in 
 time for chapel, which in the May term is at six 
 o'clock instead of half-past. 
 
 Toddy was sent home by Trinity Lane, and his 
 master accompanied Egerton to the Butteries for 
 some beer before going to chapel. 
 
 Beer may always be had at the Butteries during 
 the day, when they are open. Deluded persons 
 sometimes fancy that, according to a good old 
 custom of the college, beer is provided for all 
 comers gratis. A great mistake — it always appears 
 in the Buttery bill, at the end of the week, along 
 with the various extortions for waiters, letters, 
 chapel-fines, &c. One halfpenny used to be charged 
 for every letter which any member of the College 
 received, the produce of which tax went towards 
 paying the porters. This has now been removed. 
 
Chapels. 249 
 
 It may be hoped that it is the beginning of other 
 salutary reforms of a similar nature. 
 
 Egerton, while they were on the spot, took the 
 opportunity of putting down his name for several 
 dozen of audit-ale, which may be bespoke in this 
 way (it has, of course, to be paid for). Audit is 
 strong college ale, which will keep for many years, 
 and is supposed to improve by age. I never came 
 across any, young or old, that was not sour and 
 unpalatable. Tastes, however, differ, and prestige 
 goes a long way. 
 
 Chapel was full this evening ; it always is on 
 Friday and Saturday, as many men put off keeping 
 their three chapels till the last three days of the 
 week. 
 
 There is a little matter connected with chapels 
 which may be mentioned by the way. It is sup- 
 posed that every undergraduate is to keep every 
 chapel ; and though only three in the week, and 
 two on Sunday, are required from him by the Dean, 
 yet he is fined a penny for every one he does not 
 keep. It is unnecessary to point out to the in- 
 telligent reader the absurdity which rests upon the 
 face of such an arrangement. 
 
 Yillars took his seat next to Howley, who had 
 just come from a match on the Johnian Ground, 
 where he said his blistered hands had prevented him 
 getting any runs. 
 
 ' Are you going to dine with Charlton V asked 
 Yillars. 
 
 * No ; are you ? ' 
 
250 Ch't/rlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 1 Yes, I couldn't well get out of it. Exmoor's 
 going, so I thought you might be, too.' 
 
 1 He hasn't asked me ; I never see much of him 
 now.' ^ 
 
 The deans came up the aisle, and conversation 
 ceased. 
 
 Charlton had good first-floor rooms in Trinity 
 Street, decorated with sporting pictures, or prints 
 of voluptuous women ; a tandem whip reposing 
 on a rack, and a pair of boxing-gloves in a corner ; 
 boxes of cigars on a side-table, and sporting publi- 
 cations lying about in different directions. 
 
 The table was laid for twenty, most of whom 
 were men of Charlton's own particular set. Carter 
 and Travers were there of course, and Cunningham 
 and many others, with Davies and "Walker, two 
 men of the same year as Yillars and Exmoor, whom 
 they had met occasionally riding the drag — gentle- 
 men of tight trousers and broad satin scarves, with 
 elaborate cigar-cases, and particular friends of 
 Charlton's, having run along the road to notoriety 
 in company with him since their first term. Dogs 
 there were, too, of hideous aspect, who picked up 
 the occasional crumbs which fell from their masters' 
 table, and quarrelled at intervals over a bone. 
 
 Yillars and Exmoor sat together near to Charlton, 
 who was rather proud of having a couple of Athe- 
 naeum men at his table ; and Exmoor soon grew as 
 loud as any of the party. Travers was at the foot 
 of the table, and had secured a bottle of cham- 
 pagne, which he kept underneath his chair, re- 
 
Dinner ivith Charlton. 251 
 
 filling his glass from it after each successive 
 bumper. 
 
 ' A glass of wine with you, Yillars/ he shouted 
 from the other end of the table. 
 
 ' I shall be charmed/ said Yillars, and nodded 
 with great appearance of cordiality to the man 
 he despised more than any other in the room. 
 
 * Bumpers ?' cried Travers. 
 
 * No, thanks/ said Charlie ; ' I never drink 
 bumpers.' 
 
 ' D — it ; bumpers, I say V bawled Travers, who 
 was getting rapidly the worse for the series he had 
 already swallowed. 
 
 ' Yery well/ said Yillars, to avoid a row, turning 
 up his glass to show that there were no heel-taps, 
 while Travers turned his attention to some one else. 
 Finding his bottle empty, he threw it behind his 
 back, and shouted to one of the gyps for another. 
 
 The fun grew fast and furious, and before the 
 claret was put upon the table every one was more or 
 less disguised in liquor. 
 
 Exmoor had become rather quarrelsome, and 
 swore that Carter, who was sitting opposite, meant 
 to insult him by some remark he had made ; while 
 Carter, who was not so far gone as Exmoor, ma- 
 liciously drew him out, and was gradually irritating 
 him to a 'pitch of fury, when, by a happy chance, a 
 gyp caught him rather sharply on the head with a 
 dish, and diverted his attention. 
 
 He proceeded to fire off a volley of oaths against 
 the offender, while Charlie endeavoured to pacify 
 
252 Chcrlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Exmoor. "When he was in his cups, Exmoor's dig- 
 nity weighed heavily upon him, and he continued 
 for some time to vent his feelings in mutterings of 
 1 D — d impudence/ — • "What the deuce does he mean 
 by insulting me?' and so forth. 
 
 The conversation, while it could be called such, 
 was exclusively on racing topics, the Newmarket 
 week just over, and the chances of the Two Thou- 
 sand winner for the Derby, the Valley races which 
 were soon coming on, and the respective merits of 
 the livery-stable horses. 
 
 Charlie, very naturally, was bored. He cared 
 but little about the Derby, and had no direct in- 
 terest in the Yalley races. These latter are con- 
 ducted by undergraduates, and come off at Fulbourn 
 Valley (about eight miles from Cambridge), every 
 May term. Of late they have been discontinued, 
 owing to the course having been ploughed up. 
 
 Exmoor was soon engaged in an angry alterca- 
 tion with Cunningham, who wanted to back his 
 horse against Exmoor's for the Great Eastern Handi- 
 cap ; the latter sticking up for the superiority of his 
 animal, but refusing to bet. 
 
 From the other end of the table Travers' voice 
 was heard above the occasional crash of glass, 
 asserting, with the choicest oaths, that a bet Davies 
 had made with him was a bond fide one. 
 
 ' D — him ! ' he shouted, ' he laid me a hundred 
 to ten, — and I've booked it too,' he added, bringing 
 his hand down heavily upon his betting-book, which 
 lay beside him. 
 
After Dinner. 253 
 
 The horse referred to was at five to one, a fact 
 which Davies was not aware of until after the bet was 
 made. Travers, however, had no idea of letting a 
 good thing slip out of his hands, and stuck to it 
 like a man, (a very low kind of man). 
 
 One or two now got up and lit their cigars, and 
 Charlton sent for a box which he passed round. 
 Every one then left the table, knocking down 
 glasses and chairs, swearing, maudlin, or quarrel- 
 some ; all making, as best they could, for Davies' 
 room upstairs, where coffee was waiting. 
 
 Yillars was almost the only one who cared to 
 drink it, and even he was in rather an excited state 
 from the heat and noise, and the quantity of wine 
 he had been obliged to drink. 
 
 ' I'll cut anyone for a fiver,' cried Cunningham, 
 taking up a pack of cards from the table. 
 
 ' So you shall,' said Carter, bringing out a choice 
 expression as Cunningham turned up the queen to 
 his ace. 
 
 'Double or quits,' he thickly added. Another 
 oath as he lost again. 
 
 ' That 's a tenner to you,' he said ; ' d — it. 
 I '11 go you again.' 
 
 ' Double or quits for the tenner ? ' asked Cun- 
 ningham. 
 
 1 Yes, cut.' 
 
 1 That 's twenty,' said Cumiingham, turning up 
 a king ; and Carter reeled away disgusted with his 
 luck, and broke his shins over a sofa. 
 
254 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 ' Loo, loo/ cried Charlton, throwing some more 
 cards on to the table. 
 
 ' You play loo, Villars ? Come on, Dick/ he 
 continued to Travers. ' Carter, loo ; you 're not 
 going to lie there all night, are you?' 
 
 ' I think he be transformed into a beast, 
 For I can nowhere find him like a man.' 
 
 Carter looked up vacantly from the floor, and 
 proceeded to pick himself up and take a chair at 
 the table. 
 
 Villars played for a time, till Charlton proposed 
 they should change the game to lansquenet ; there 
 wasn't enough excitement about loo, he said. 
 
 ' Positis loculis nunc luditur area/ 
 
 — paper now takes the place of ready money, — and 
 Charlie accordingly retired from the table, which 
 was streaming from the overflow or upsetting of 
 brandies and sodas, and tried to persuade Exmoor 
 to come away. 
 
 Exmoor was a regular loo-player, but had refused 
 obstinately to play to-night, and had become quiet 
 and pale in a corner under the influence of un- 
 wonted tobacco. He couldn't be persuaded to 
 move, and Villars therefore looked on for a few 
 minutes at the lansquenet, till he was tired of the 
 noise and quarrelling over the bits of paper on 
 which winnings and losings were being jotted 
 down. 
 
Reflections. 255 
 
 ' To hear 
 Such wrangling is a joy for vulgar minds.' 
 
 He then went quietly away after saying good-night 
 to Charlton. 
 
 It was only half-past eleven, and the clear fresh 
 air was delightful to inhale after the atmosphere he 
 had just left. He turned, therefore, towards Eger- 
 ton's rooms, and finding them dark continued his 
 walk up the Parade towards King's, which was 
 standing out in bold relief against the moonlit sky. 
 The quarter struck, and he turned back home to 
 bed, his opinion of Charlton and his friends not 
 not having been much raised by the evening's 
 experience. 
 
 Boisterous orgies garnished with coarse jokes 
 and foul language haVe an unsavoury relish for the 
 palate of a gentleman. 
 
256 
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 'Most sweet monster.' — The Tempest. 
 1 En quid agis V * — Persius. 
 
 1 Good dinner last night, Charlie ? ' asked Egerton 
 next morning when they met at breakfast. 
 
 ' No, rather not/ replied Yillars ; ' there was a 
 fearful row and nearly every one was beastly drunk. 
 Have you seen Boots this morning ? he was rather 
 " on." ' 
 
 ' I'm fit enough to-day, though/ said Exmoor, 
 who had just entered the room ; 'the wine must have 
 been pretty good.' 
 
 After breakfast Charlie paid a visit to his coach, 
 and in the afternoon drove up with Egerton to 
 Fenner's, where there was a match going on. 
 
 ' Ah ! Egerton, comment ca va ? ' cried a tall 
 effeminate-looking man out of another pony-trap, as 
 they pulled up ; e isn't this too charming ? it's really 
 quite the nicest thing I know, sitting here and look- 
 ing at those men getting hot over there.' 
 
 'Yes, it's very jolly/ replied Egerton, 'if you 
 care about cricket.' 
 
 * Get up, you lazy hound. 
 
Fennels. 257 
 
 1 1 didn't know you ever went in for cricket, 
 Darner,' said Villars. 
 
 1 1 don't, mon cher ; but then one sees every one 
 up here one knows, and it's too delightful.' 
 
 ' It's very good of you to come up too,' said 
 Egerton, ' you're so ornamental.' 
 
 ' Oh ! of course/ said Darner, putting his head 
 on one side and looking pretty. ' Do you play at 
 cricket, you two ? of course you play together. 
 You're like the Siamese twins — it's quite interesting 
 to watch you.' 
 
 ' I'm glad we amuse you,' returned Egerton ; 
 ' why don't you try and get a twin ? you'd find it so 
 nice,' he added, mimicking Darner's manner. 
 
 ' Shall we go and lie down under the trees there, 
 Charlie ? ' he continued, turning to Yillars. 
 
 ' Oh ! don't go,' exclaimed Darner ; ' you're just 
 getting pleasant, and as for ce charmant Yillars, I 
 could look at him for ever, he is so lovely.' 
 
 1 Another Adonis in fact,' returned Yillars, ' " or 
 something more exquisite still." You shall have 
 another look some other time. Grood-bye, pretty 
 creature.' 
 
 Egerton gave the pony to a man to hold, and 
 they crossed over in front of the pavilion to the trees 
 where the majority of the undergraduates were sit- 
 ting or lying about. 
 
 ' Eancy that fellow calling himself a man and a 
 brother,' said Egerton, when they were out of ear-shot. 
 
 * He's come in for the wrong sex by mistake,' said 
 Charlie; 'he must have been intended for a woman.' 
 vol. i. s 
 
258 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 ' I believe tie spends the day dressing and 
 looking at himself in the glass. I'd take odds 
 about his carrying a small looking-glass in his 
 pocket/ ' 
 
 ' I think freaks of nature are rather interesting,' 
 said Charlie ; ' there used to be a creature near Har- 
 row they called the snake-child, that fellows used to 
 go and see — a most repulsive-looking object. I 
 believe the mother had been frightened by a reptile 
 of some kind before the creature was born, and this 
 prodigy was the result/ 
 
 ' Darner's mother must have been frightened by 
 a man then,' said Egerton ; and they both laughed 
 gaily at the absurdity of the notion. Certainly, one 
 might very well have said of Darner, 'The best- 
 thing about him is his complexion/ 
 
 Rowley's Perambulator form extended upon the 
 ground attracted Charlie's attention, as his laughter 
 died away into a faint bronchial chuckle. 
 
 ' I didn't know you were playing,' he said, touch- 
 ing him up with his foot. 
 
 * Didn't you ? ' said Rowley, looking up for a 
 moment, and then turning to Singleton, the captain 
 of the eleven, who was lying beside him. ' "Wasn't 
 that a splendid cut ? hard lines it being stopped.' 
 
 Charlie walked on with Egerton. 
 
 1 1 don't think Rowley quite likes your going 
 about with me so much,' said the latter. ' I fancy 
 he doesn't seem very cordial when I'm with you.' 
 
 ' Oh ! it's only his manner,' answered Villars; 
 ' he's never very gushing ; and he thinks of nothing 
 
Murray. 259 
 
 but cricket now, so I don't suppose lie takes it very 
 much to heart.' 
 
 1 Will he be in the eleven ?' 
 
 ' I don't know. He hasn't made any runs in 
 
 any good match. Isn't that Castleton and ' 
 
 the remainder of the sentence was interrupted by 
 a drive from the further wicket, which sent the ball 
 spinning between them to the palings. 
 
 'On the roller you mean?' said Egerton, when 
 the ball had been fielded ; ' with Murray. Let's 
 stroll round that way.' 
 
 Charlie rose from the grass, and they proceeded 
 leisurely round the groimd, talking to small knots of 
 friends on the way. 
 
 1 Murray was rather disgusted at not being 
 asked to play to-day,' said Egerton as they ap- 
 proached the roller. 
 
 ' He never practises, does he ?' 
 
 The individual in question had been in the Eton 
 eleven, and might have been in the University 
 eleven the previous year, if he had taken the trouble 
 to exert himself for it. He was a dark handsome 
 man, with a pleasant enough expression when he 
 pleased, but forbidding and cold as ice to those he 
 disliked. His friends were enthusiastic in his 
 praise, and gave him credit for a fascination of 
 manner, which was reserved, I suppose, for tife-d- 
 tetes, as the general world never came under its 
 influence. 
 
 He used to form sudden and violent friendships, 
 which were as short-lived as they were ardent ; he 
 
260 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 had great powers of sarcasm, and had made to him- 
 self thereby more than one enemy, as he had sacri- 
 ficed to his friendship the peace of mind of more 
 than one friend. Castleton was his latest fancy, 
 and they were now to be seen invariably together. 
 Castleton's was not a nature to form great friend- 
 ships, he was too impulsive, thoughtless, and volatile ; 
 but he succumbed to a certain extent like every one 
 else, to the mysterious influence of Murray's some- 
 what importunate attachment. 
 
 Egerton proposed, after they had looked on for 
 some time at two steady bats, who promised to last 
 without hitting, that they should go and practise 
 on the Trinity ground. The idea of playing cricket 
 was ridiculed by Castleton. He was going to ride, 
 he said, and couldn't be persuaded that cricket was 
 better than riding on a hot afternoon. 
 
 Murray was not going to ride, and made a third 
 with the other two in the pony trap. 
 
 The pony seemed to think it was all right, and 
 rattled them up Trumpington Street, along the 
 College backs, under the shade of the elms, to the 
 gate leading to the Johnian racquet-court ; which 
 Egerton made him open without stopping, and 
 managed to get through without serious damage to 
 the wheels. Up the lane, and down the field to the 
 gate of the Trinity ground, where they found a 
 wicket vacant far off, and providentially a profes- 
 sional bowler near hy. 
 
 Him they secured and played on till the wickets 
 
Dr diving One's Friends. 261 
 
 were all emptied for hall, and the last of the 
 slogging 1st Trinity men had disappeared. 
 
 Dangerous men these, who hit wildly about, and 
 call one l sir ' ad nauseam, 
 
 Murray suggested bathing when they were tired 
 of cricket ; but the others had to keep their last 
 chapel, and they accordingly drank shandy- gaff 
 instead in the pavilion till chapel time. 
 
 The next morning, Sunday, Yillars and Egerton 
 went to early chapel at eight o'clock, in order that 
 they might have the morning to lounge about 
 the backs while the others were at eleven o'clock 
 chapel. 
 
 1 Let's go and draw Boots,' said the latter, as 
 they came out ; ' he's safe to be in bed.' 
 
 They crossed the court to his rooms, and found 
 him, as they supposed, snoring. He was roused by 
 the noise of their entrance, and after a few seconds 
 awoke to the full horror of his position. Being in 
 the habit of lying late in bed, he frequently received 
 early visits of this nature, and knew therefore but 
 too well what was coming. 
 
 It is a fearful moment to the awakening sleeper, 
 to behold before his lately opened eye the form or 
 forms of early friends, whose fell purpose in paying 
 this morning call he is at no loss to divine. Like 
 Agag, he approaches them delicately in conversa- 
 tion ; exhausts his ingenuity in the invention of 
 devices to keep off the dreaded moment ; and makes 
 ghastly attempts to be funny. His tormentors play 
 
262 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 him for a time, enjoying the sport, and then a casual 
 hand is inserted at the bottom of the bed ; the vic- 
 tim grasps the bedclothes inside, and feels that the 
 moment has arrived. One short struggle, and all is 
 over — and he stands a miserable, bare-legged object 
 in the middle of the floor. Even so, after a little 
 preliminary torture, Exmoor was turned out in his 
 night- shirt, and was rapidly making for the water- 
 jug ; while Egerton and Villars scrambled down the 
 staircase, and just escaped the cold douche which he 
 sent after them. 
 
 When one or two more doors had been tried, 
 and found fastened to provide against contingencies 
 of this nature, they adjourned to breakfast ; and 
 while eleven o'clock chapel was going on, basked 
 upon the bank of the river with their cigars. 
 
 Smoking is not allowed inside the precincts of 
 the College, but during chapel time there is gene- 
 rally no itinerant porter to object. 
 
 When the mob of undergraduates began to 
 swarm out to the bridge, they strolled round by 
 King's, and looked in at Castleton's rooms, where 
 luncheon and champagne-cup were in preparation 
 for all comers. After luncheon a general walk ; and 
 after walk, hall ; which they of the high table are 
 obliged to attend on Sundays. Fellow- commoners 
 cannot be on any day marked by merely showing at 
 the door like pensioners. They are obliged to sit 
 through the whole dinner till grace is said, if it is to 
 count. Any one coming in after the quarter is fined 
 a bottle of wine. 
 
Sunday. 263 
 
 Papers, smoke, or wine, from hall till a quarter- 
 past six, and then chapel for every one. 
 
 As nearly all the College dines in hall on 
 Sunday, chapel in summer-time on Sunday evenings 
 is rather trying. 
 
 The dons and their guests, who are generally 
 other dons, adjourn, when they have well eaten, to 
 Combination-room, and there imbibe much generous 
 liquor. The consequence is a hot and bloated ap- 
 pearance on the faces of most when they appear in 
 chapel. This is the case also with a good many of 
 the undergraduates. And when five hundred or 
 more bodies are compressed into a limited space, it 
 is impossible that there should not be a considerable 
 amount of heat generated. Shy men, therefore, who 
 are susceptible of faintness, and have not courage 
 enough to leave the chapel, pass a very unplea- 
 sant time. 
 
 As the surplice hides any irregularity of costume 
 underneath, it is quite possible to obtain a modicum 
 of comfort by leaving one's coat behind. 
 
 After chapel the world adjourned to the backs, 
 or to Trumpington Street, and walked up and down 
 with his wife ; sat upon the railings, or loitered on 
 the bridges till the dews of evening began to fall. 
 The bell for shutting the gates rang, the crowd dis- 
 appeared, and the undergraduates went to tea 
 with their friends, according to their respective 
 plumage. 
 
264 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 ' Methought it was tlie sound 
 Of riot, and ill-managed merriment.' — Comus. 
 
 3 Eg vuvv l%a^u. — iEsCH. Pers. 
 
 There was great excitement in Volunteer circles 
 during the early part of the next week, caused by 
 the approaching visit of the Oxford corps. 
 
 Russell, who had been made an officer of his 
 company, was in great force, and was up betimes on 
 Friday morning to get a certain amount of reading 
 done before going out at twelve to join the others on 
 Parkers piece. 
 
 The Oxford men were to meet them there, and 
 the two University corps were to be reviewed to- 
 gether by the Inspector of Volunteers. There were 
 many more members of the corps at that time than 
 there are now. The edge of its novelty has worn 
 off, and the uniform ceased to appear attractive to 
 the undergraduate eye, so that the numbers have 
 
 * The crews were making for their boats. 
 
Volunteer Review. 265 
 
 dwindled down to a very shabby few ; and even 
 these the inspiriting strains of the Town Band 
 hardly succeed in bringing out on parade- days. 
 
 The Oxford men mustered in some force, and 
 between the two there was a very respectable show 
 of gaiters. 
 
 The town of Cambridge turned out to see them 
 perform a series of complicated manoeuvres, which 
 equally of course were performed to the entire 
 satisfaction of the Inspector. Were they ever other- 
 wise? It must be the fear of damping the noble 
 ardour of the gaiters which produces that invariable 
 satisfaction in the inspecting mind after a Volunteer 
 review. JSTo one, I suppose, would be rude enough 
 to suggest that his thoughts were not privy to his 
 words — 
 
 The Inspector, on the present occasion, received 
 in due course the hearty cheers which all the hand- 
 some things he had said so well deserved ; and the 
 imposing array of gaitered warriors marched down 
 into the town, where they broke up, till it was time 
 for dinner, and the Oxford men dispersed to look up 
 their friends. 
 
 Trinit} T , and one or two other colleges, had un- 
 dertaken to feed the united corps, and gave them a 
 good dinner and some dull speeches. 
 
 At Trinity, the gallery overlooking the hall 
 was filled with undergraduates, who amused them- 
 selves in watching the effects of the mounting 
 
266 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 champagne upon the British Volunteer. One gallant 
 gentleman, who was an officer of his corps, con- 
 sidering that the occasion called for some expression 
 of his sentiments, mounted -the table, and, after an 
 unsteady nourish of his sword, commenced a very 
 flowery oration ; which was brought to an untimely 
 end by the exertions of a judicious friend, who laid 
 violent hands upon the orator's tunic- tails. The 
 gallant officer finished his speech in a sitting 
 posture, hard held. 
 
 There were cheers for the various toasts, which 
 were renewed again and again by solitary indi- 
 viduals, whose enthusiasm carried them beyond the 
 prescribed ' one more/ and who testified their de- 
 votion to the interests of their country by solos in 
 distant corners. Occasionally some lethargic corpse 
 would awake to the patriotic nature of the sentiment 
 which had lately been cheered, and a smile would 
 break across his countenance as he contributed his 
 little quantum to the applause of which the echoes 
 had long since died away. The speeches of the 
 big-wigs at the high table were delivered with 
 variations in other parts of the room, with great 
 power of gesticulation, and little knots of cheers in 
 different corners kept up the interest of the pro- 
 ceedings throughout. When the last speech was 
 over, there was a rush to the doors, through which 
 one or two had already disappeared ; and till half- 
 past seven the town and backs of the colleges were 
 overrun by an excited multitude. Some attempting 
 to row got inevitably upset, and carried back with 
 
Effects of Dining. 267 
 
 them to Oxford a lively remembrance of the 
 Cambridge Styx. Several members of either corps 
 continued on the bridges the speeches which they 
 had not had time to finish ; and one somewhat 
 broad-shouldered private of the Cambridge R. V. C. 
 was heard to express great satisfaction at the admi- 
 ration which the Oxford men entertained ' for our 
 backs.' 
 
 At half-past seven the members of the different 
 companies were to fall in at different points, and 
 meet at St. Mary's, to march together to the station. 
 Falling in, however, was hopeless, where many 
 could scarcely keep from falling down. The officers, 
 therefore, were obliged to get their men as they 
 could to St. Mary's, and marched them from there, 
 jumbled up with undergraduates and townspeople, 
 up Trumpington Street. There they received an 
 ovation from the fair occupants of the several 
 windows on the line of progression (it can hardly be 
 called 'march') to the station. 
 
 The platform was crowded with every kind of 
 undergraduate in every stage of wild excitement — 
 some rushing up and down arm-in-arm clearing the 
 course ; and the railway officials were in despair of 
 ever getting the train off except over a heap of 
 mangled corpses. The carriages were at last filled, 
 every available knee having its man (the arms of 
 the first-class carriages being looked upon as 
 luxuries), and the train began to move. One or 
 two individuals who had been in the refreshment- 
 room rushed out, and one was poked in through a 
 
268 Cha: lie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 window ; and the train moved off amid cheers from 
 the men they left behind them. Some of them were 
 Oxford men, who could not be made alive to the 
 necessity of returning that -night, and one or two 
 who arrived just as the last carriage cleared the 
 platform. Then came a rush for the narrow outlet, 
 and many a one left the station a sadder and a 
 wiser man ; his knuckles barked against the wall, 
 and his hat — Providence only knew where. 
 
 Villars had gone with an Oxford friend to the 
 station, and had got out without much damage. He 
 found Castleton on the box of a fly, which he was 
 driving to Cambridge, and took his seat with one 
 or two others on the roof, there being five already 
 inside. 
 
 So passed off the Volunteer Review, to the satis- 
 faction of all parties (except, perhaps, a few old 
 dons), and left the May races to the undivided in- 
 terest of the University. 
 
 These, the races of the year par excellence, were 
 to commence on the following Wednesday, and the 
 excitement about them was beginning to extend 
 itself even to non-boating men. The respective 
 merits of Third Trinity and the Hall (Trinity Hall) 
 were the general topic of conversation, and the 
 chance of Third making its bump the first night, 
 was a question of all-absorbing interest among 
 rowing men. 
 
 No other boat had any chance of being head of 
 the river, except, perhaps, First Trinity, and theirs 
 was thought amongst the faculty to be a poor one. 
 
May Races. 269 
 
 The interest therefore of the year centred in 
 these two, and the energetic individuals who made 
 books on the races found great difficulty in per- 
 suading even infatuated and patriotic small college 
 men to back their boats at long odds. 
 
 The long-expected "Wednesday came at last, and 
 after chapel in the evening, loaded drags, dog-carts, 
 and pony-traps, poured down Jesus Lane on their 
 way to the Plough, or Grassy. 
 
 Yillars, Egerton, Lawton, and two or three 
 more, had their horses waiting outside the Athe- 
 naeum, and rode down to the latter place ; which 
 is a green field at a bend of the river, where 
 the best view is to be had of the boats early in the 
 race. 
 
 Cambridge is always gay with visitors in the 
 May term, and about the time of the boat-races 
 sisters and cousins turn up at all points, so that if 
 the weather is fine, Grassy is crowded with a bril- 
 liant assemblage of vehicles and dresses. Barnewell 
 turns out, and (cela va sans dire) adds to the gaudy 
 gaiety of the scene. 
 
 The weather this year was as it ought to be, and 
 Grassy in full bloom. 
 
 The first gun has fired, and the crews of the 
 different boats are collecting towards their own. 
 Marston and Gordon are walking together up the 
 towing-path, neither in much trepidation, having 
 rowed in more than one race before. 
 
 It is when the second gun has fired, and they 
 are waiting with oars on the water, pushed off from 
 
270 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 the bank, that the nervous excitement makes itself 
 felt. 
 
 The coxswain holds the rope in his hand, and a 
 friend on the shore keeps the seconds by his watch. 
 Ten, five, four, three, two, one — and the third gun 
 fires. Every oar dips at the sound, and the boats 
 shoot forward. Trinity Hall keeps its lead up to 
 Grassy, and then Third Trinity begins gradually to 
 creep up inch by inch. The ladies wave their 
 handkerchiefs, the men on the bank shout en- 
 couragement, and the crew put fresh vigour into 
 their stroke. On they go, past the Plough and past 
 Ditton corner, where they decrease their distance 
 by judicious steering ; and the shouting becomes 
 fainter and fainter to the crowd at Grassy, till it 
 dies upon the evening breeze, and the initiated 
 know by the absence of any unusual enthusiasm 
 that the bump has not been made in the Long 
 Reach. 
 
 The boats which had made their bumps row past 
 with flags displayed in their sterns, and the mul- 
 titude at Grassy and the Plough scurry back along 
 the lane to Cambridge. 
 
 The next night Charlie went down in a pony- 
 trap with Egerton to see Russell's boat (First 
 Trinity, second), which was sixth on the river — 
 make their bump. This bump, Russell had assured 
 him, must come off, they had been so close the night 
 before. 
 
 They didn't, however, time it to suit the Ghrassy 
 people, though it did come off in the Long Reach. 
 
Chariot Race. 27 1 
 
 There also, Third Trinity rowed into the Hall, and 
 kept their lead to the end of the races. 
 
 Egerton's pony had been fidgeting for some 
 time, and immediately they got into the road he let 
 him go, and raced home with Castleton, who was in 
 another trap with Murray. Over the ruts — across 
 the grass — they went, Egerton leading — through 
 the turnpike — down the road to the railway bridge, 
 where Castleton came up and tried to pass ; but 
 Egerton, standing up, gave his pony a few cuts with 
 the whip, which sent him along at an unapproach- 
 able pace. Through Barnewell, frightening all the 
 curs of the place, — past Midsummer common they 
 rattled, both standing up now like charioteers of 
 old, — up Jesus Lane — every one making way for 
 them, and past Death's, where Castleton made a 
 final effort, and got his head in front ; but trying to 
 pass between Egerton and a waggon, caught his 
 wheel and rolled the carriage and pony in the dust, 
 aoafirfii ds rroyi W ahru. Death's men ran out to 
 pick up the pieces, and Death himself came after, 
 delighted to find that it was not one of his traps. 
 Egerton had been nearly upset by the smash, but 
 escaped with a bruised wheel. He pulled up to 
 make kind inquiries after Castleton, who looked a 
 miserable object, covered with dust, and with bleed- 
 ing hands, though otherwise unhurt. The pony was 
 led home to Cox's not much damaged. (Mr. Cox 
 thought differently, and sent in a heavy bill of 
 costs to back his opinion.) 
 
 ' What a madman you are, Castleton ! ' said Mur- 
 
272 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 ray, when lie had finished cleaning the dust off his 
 clothes, ' you might have seen there wasn't room to 
 pass there/ 
 
 1 Lots of room, my dear" fellow/ said Castleton, 
 laughing ; ' if the beggar hadn't swerved. I'm 
 awfully sorry though, old boy ; I hope you're not 
 hurt.' 
 
 1 I'm not hurt,' growled Murray ; ' but in a con- 
 founded mess.' 
 
 'We should have beaten you, Harry, if we 
 hadn't come to grief,' said Castleton. 
 
 ' Not you,' returned Egerton ; ' my pony was 
 only just getting well into her stride.' 
 
 ' I wonder what Cox '11 say,' laughed Castleton, 
 as he contemplated the ruins — like Nero on the 
 debris of Rome. 
 
 ' Oh ! hang Cox ! ' said Murray, ' come to dinner, 
 we're half-an-hour late already ; ' and to dinner 
 they accordingly went. 
 
 Next night it rained hard ; and the next, Satur- 
 day, was the Beef-steak Anniversary. 
 
 In the May term every year, the anniversary of 
 the founding of this club is celebrated. 
 
 The date of its foundation is unknown. Torn 
 leaves, or dates blotted with port in the club-book, 
 have prevented its being known to the men of this 
 generation. 
 
 It is the custom for the members of the club 
 (which is limited to eleven, and generally consists of 
 seven or eight), to ask to the anniversary all their 
 friends and the best known men in the University, 
 
Beef- Steak Anniversary, 273 
 
 so that on these occasions forty or fifty generally sit 
 clown to dinner. Ordinary strangers dine in evening 
 dress ; members of either of the other dining clubs 
 in the costume of their club. 
 
 White-headed Bob, the itinerant musician of 
 Cambridge rooms, attends with his band, and plays 
 a selection of music during dinner ; and the tunes 
 which it has been customary to attach to each par- 
 ticular toast after dinner. 
 
 The table on the present occasion was not as long 
 as usual, owing to a few boating-men, or others in- 
 terested in the boats, being absent. 
 
 However, forty odd sat down, including several 
 old men who came down to renew the associations 
 of their youth in the convivial debauch. 
 
 Beer and soda-water mixed (horresco referens) is 
 the only other liquid besides port which it is allowed 
 to drink at this festive entertainment, water ex- 
 cepted ; and the mixture of port and beer soon tells 
 upon the unaccustomed brain. Before the middle of 
 dinner therefore, the din and shouting became 
 deafening ; every one asking every one to drink wine, 
 and bawling from one end of the table to the other 
 with frantic gesticulations. Some made a point of 
 drinking wine with every one round the table, and 
 their fate was consequently soon decided, unless 
 their heads were made of iron. 
 
 Charlie had secured a place next to Egerton, 
 with Murray, who was a moderately quiet fellow, on 
 the other side of him ; hoping thereby to escape 
 drinking bumpers to all the toasts after dinner. 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 When the various dishes of beef in every variety 
 of form had been exhausted, and the great silver 
 bull's-head of ale had gone round, the dessert was 
 placed upon the table, and Lowry, the president, 
 rose to sing the customary song — ' Draw the Cork ' 
 — which precedes the toasts. Then came the first 
 toast, which was received with enthusiasm by 
 Cunningham and Co. and other upholders of the 
 fine old customs of our grandfathers. Likewise 
 the next but one ; after which there was an inter- 
 val, while the president rushed wildly about the 
 room, trying to prevail on excited men to keep their 
 seats till the toasts were over. The vice-president 
 was also running madly about on the same errand, 
 arm-in-arm with Castleton, increasing the con- 
 fusion. 
 
 Extravagant bursts of laughter, mingled with 
 the crashing of glass, battering of spoons or knives, 
 and shouting, produced a deafening row, which the 
 president made vain attempts to quiet by rapping 
 violently on the table ; in order to give the re- 
 mainder of the toasts, 'Past and Present,' 'Auld 
 Lang Syne/ and ' The Guests.' After these were 
 over, there was a general stampede. Every one left 
 his chair and careered about the room, his rate of pro- 
 gression varying inversely with his intoxication. 
 Characters came out in new lights, as they are wont, 
 
 ' Condita quum vera* aperit praDcordia Liber,' * 
 
 * When truth-loving Bacchus opens the secrets of the 
 heart. 
 
Bumpers. 275 
 
 The reserved man became confidential — the silent 
 man talkative, 
 
 ' Fecundi calices quern non fecere disertum ? ' * 
 
 the stern man maudlin and affectionate. Some 
 choked with laughter, others fought with their 
 dearest friends, and some who had never been 
 known before to be guilty of a joke became the 
 fathers of many. Rowley ran up to Yillars, fell 
 upon his neck and kissed him, and breathed sweet 
 porty odours into his ear, while Egerton looked on 
 with kindling eye. Murray and Castleton coursed 
 up and down the room knocking down every chair 
 or obstacle that came in their way. Charlton em- 
 ployed himself in picking a quarrel with Exmoor, 
 who could hardly keep on his legs ; and Darner 
 might be seen lying on the sofa in the most extra- 
 vagant attitude, asking everybody who passed, 
 whether it wasn't 'too nice.' There were a few 
 moderately sober men who had got rid of their 
 bumpers under the table, and looked on with con- 
 siderable amusement at the mad freaks of the 
 rest. 
 
 After some semblance of order had been restored, 
 the health of the guests was drunk with musical 
 honours by the members of the club, standing on 
 their chairs. * Tom Peel' was then given with much 
 expression by Lowry, and the chorus sung in 
 
 * Who lias not become eloquent under plentiful pota- 
 
 tiODS 1 
 
276 Cheurlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 various tunes by the rest of the room ; and after 
 ' the Guests ' had been responded to, and devilled 
 biscuits had promoted a desire for cooling liquor, 
 the vice-president proposed the president's health 
 with the usual honours. He then proceeded to walk 
 up the table to the president, accompanied by five or 
 six others; scattering destruction among the glasses, 
 ice-plates, and decanters as they went. The con- 
 tents of the flower-pots had long ago been utilized, 
 and were now adorning the heads or other parts of 
 the persons of the more exhilarated diners ; the 
 earth scattered about the table and floor. The vice- 
 president's health followed (after which Exmoor 
 threw the remainder of his glass into Charlton's 
 face, and the latter immediately threw his own 
 empty glass at Exmoor's head) ; and then the tables 
 were cleared to one side, the broken glass and plates 
 swept up, and the carpet rolled into a corner by the 
 waiters — at the risk of their bones from men scour- 
 ing up and down the room, and tripping up whoever 
 they came across. Bob strikes up a valse, every one 
 seizes on a partner, — smaller or bigger than him- 
 self, it doesn't matter, — and whirls up and down the 
 room. Couples madly pursue each other till a colli- 
 sion brings them both to the ground ; and others 
 after a few turns retire to suffer the inevitable con- 
 sequences of such rapid movement after much wine. 
 Here and there one might be seen performing an 
 unsteady pas sou? in the middle of the room, until 
 some superior bod3 r comes within the radius of his 
 revolution, and he collapses ; while one or two, in 
 
Room Cleared. 277 
 
 their shirt- sleeves, keep up a most persistent reel, 
 till it dawns upon them that twelve o'elock is strik- 
 ing, and that every one is going, or gone. They 
 catch up any cap or gown they find left, join the 
 rest outside, and scour the Market-place with hide- 
 ous yells; stop to have a shot at Nulli Secundus' lamp 
 in Rose Crescent, and gradually make their way 
 with snatches of songs, and shouting, and baiting of 
 policemen, to Trinity Gate. The porter suffers such 
 indignities as are usual, and the righteous soul of 
 deans is vexed by the uproar which is kept up in the 
 Old Court far into the morning. 
 
278 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ' But save me from the gaiety of those 
 Whose headaches nail them to a noonday bed.' — Cowper. 
 
 ' Chacun a son gout.' — French Proverb. 
 
 Many a breakfast remained untasted the next morn- 
 ing, and many a head retained painful but confused 
 recollections of the previous night's debauch. 
 
 A few hard-headed individuals went to eight 
 o'clock chapel and paid visits of condolence to their 
 friends afterwards, — miserable objects some of them 
 were. The tossed bed-clothes and heavy eyes showed 
 how comfortable a night they had passed ; and 
 sometimes the feet on the pillow, or in some other 
 direction where they had no business to be, bore 
 witness to the confusion of the owner's brains the 
 night before. A ghastly smile was all the answer 
 they could return to the rallying of their friends, 
 who ordered tea for them, and congratulated them- 
 selves on the superior resisting power of their own 
 brains. 
 
 Those who had only heard of the anniversary 
 and had not been favoured with an invitation, 
 
N<\ct Mo i'ii ni <j. 279 
 
 amused themselves in watching the appearance of 
 the different faces as they passed up chapel at eleven 
 o'clock. 
 
 1 Rowley looks rather gummy, doesn't he ? ' said 
 Marston to his neighbour. 
 
 1 Look at Charlton, though,' said the latter. 
 
 He certainly did look a pitiable object. He had 
 been found by the porter with his legs over the 
 chapel railings* lying on the flower-beds, with a 
 large cigar in his mouth, fancying that he was in 
 bed. 
 
 ' Yillars don't look much the worse,' said Mars- 
 ton, nodding to him across the aisle. 
 
 Castleton came up soon after with a large piece 
 of black plaster across his eye, which had been 
 damaged by the corner of a broken chair. Exmoor 
 had not been able to go to breakfast at the Lion, 
 where the members of the Steak meet on Sunday 
 morning, but he walked into chapel as if he was as 
 happy as possible, and had to leave before the ser- 
 vice was over. 
 
 Little knots of men were standing about the 
 gate after chapel, discussing the events of the pre- 
 vious night, and chaffing each other about the 
 various eccentricities of which they had been guilty. 
 Some, who had been hopelessly drunk, vowing that 
 thev had never been more sober in their lives, and 
 no one confessing to have been the worse, however 
 much his looks belied him. 
 
 * These railings were then in existence. 
 
280 Charlie Villars at Ca/mhridge. 
 
 ' The last time I saw you, Lowry,' said Egerton, 
 ' you were embracing a lamp-post, swearing it was 
 the onty woman you ever loved.' 
 
 ' Did you see Vivian ? ' ^said another, ' gesticu- 
 lating, like Romeo, to a woman at a window in the 
 Market-place ? shouting out, — " 'Tis the east and 
 Juliet is the sun/' ' 
 
 ' Cunningham was the best fun, though ; some- 
 body knocked a peeler's hat over his eyes, and he 
 seized on Cunningham. He got away somehow, 
 and bolted like mad, — never stopped till he got into 
 his room at Magdalene, and I heard him telling 
 some one this morning that he had mauled a bobby 
 severely.' 
 
 ' One of them got out his truncheon. The Earl 
 took his hat away and shied it over the railings into 
 the churchyard — roused the British Lion.' 
 
 ' Has any one seen Murray this morning ?' asked 
 Egerton ; ' he was awfully bad last night.' 
 
 No one having heard of him, four or five of them 
 went to look him up at his rooms in Jesus Lane, 
 and a woeful spectacle he presented. A cup of 
 hardly tasted tea stood hy his bedside, and a piece 
 of dry toast with a corner broken off. Misery the 
 most abject was depicted on his face, while the 
 ' glasses of his eye' reflected the utter prostration 
 of his mind and body — the sort of condition when it 
 seems a matter of perfect indifference whether one 
 lives or dies — the latter, perhaps, for choice. The 
 inability to wish, or think, or do anything but lie 
 still and be miserable, and loathe all food and so- 
 
Coppers. 281 
 
 ciety ; the impossibility of exerting oneself to talk 
 or ntter a sound beyond a languid ' yes ' or 'no;' 
 the confused sense of desiring to be left alone, 
 which nature lias not energy enough to define — the 
 heavy leaden eyelids, parched mouth, and throbbing 
 temples, which each movement sends a pang 
 through, like a knife — all combine to make up a 
 most enviable situation, and one which it is mar- 
 vellous that experience does not teach men to 
 avoid. 
 
 Drinking is something like gambling. A man 
 goes to dinner with the intention of drinking very 
 little wine, as he sits down to play with the intention 
 of playing in very little stakes. He gets heated and 
 excited ; reason's warnings are unheard amid the 
 noise which surrounds him, and he goes on from 
 sips to bumpers as from silver to gold, till in the 
 one case he loses his head, and in the other his head, 
 and probably his money. 
 
 Murray smiled a faint and sickly smile in answer 
 to the inquiries after his feelings. 
 
 1 Coppery, old boy ; ain't you ? ' said one. 
 
 1 Hardly the word for it, I should think,' said 
 another. 
 
 ' You'd better drink your tea, old man,' said 
 Castleton. 
 
 ' Can't,' was the feeble response. 
 
 ' Try some soda-water and a lemon ; that's the 
 best thing.' 
 
 Egerton went into the sitting-room to look for 
 a bottle of soda-water, and rang for a lemon, 
 
282 Cha.iie Vlllars at Cambridge. 
 
 which the landlady brought up, and broke into 
 a warm lament over Murray's sufferings, — 
 ' Which he was that dreadful bad, I'm sure I 
 thought he must have died:. I undressed him my- 
 self, and got him into bed comfortable like, and, 
 lord a mercy, he tcere ill ! And he such a nice gen- 
 tleman too. I felt quite sorry, sir, that I did. He 
 won't touch no food, and he hain't drank his tea. 
 He ain't never been so bad afore ; though it ain't 
 the first time I've had to get him to bed, that it 
 ain't!' 
 
 Murray was persuaded to drink a little of the 
 vivifying fluid prepared for him, and they left him 
 alone with his misery, promising to look in again 
 after luncheon. 
 
 Languid forms were dotted about the backs, 
 trying to induce the return of appetite by plenty of 
 fresh air ; but there were still a few who refused 
 their food at luncheon. 
 
 When the events of the last night had been 
 pretty well exhausted, the attention of the horsey 
 men reverted to the Derby, which was to be run on 
 the following Wednesday ; and to the Valley races, 
 which were to come off on the Friday. 
 
 Egerton had a book on the Derb} T , and had still 
 several outsiders to lay against, which no one seemed 
 inclined to back ; so he started off to Cunningham's 
 rooms, where he knew he should find a knot of 
 racing men (betting brings one into curious society 
 •sometimes !), and remained for some time discussing 
 the chances of the different horses. 
 
Derby Prospects. 283 
 
 Lawton, Rochfort, and some others dropped in 
 presently, when they all started off for a walk to- 
 wards Chesterton. 
 
 I If Gamester doesn't win/ said Egerton, ' I shall 
 retire to the Continent.' 
 
 I I shall skin the lamb if he does,' said Carter. 
 (' Skinning the lamb ' means winning a considerable 
 sum.) 
 
 ' I expect you'll see Marksman there or there- 
 abouts,' said Rochfort, who didn't bet ; ' if he 
 hadn't waited so long, he'd have won the Two 
 Thousand.' 
 
 ' Of course he would,' said Castleton. * I intend 
 to back him for my shirt.' 
 
 ' He hasn't a ghost of a chance/ said another ; 
 ' if Gamester had been brought up sooner he'd have 
 won in a canter.' 
 
 ' This hard ground won't suit his legs either/ 
 said Egerton. * There was a report yesterday that 
 he'd broken down.' 
 
 ' Will any one come to Newmarket to-morrow, 
 and see Gamester gallop ? ' asked Lawton. 
 
 1 You have to get up so confoundedly early/ said 
 Egerton. 
 
 ' Start about three ; be back comfortably to 
 breakfast ; and see the whole string.' 
 
 I I'll go with you,' said Castleton, ' if I can get 
 out of college.' 
 
 ' You can't though, they don't let you out before 
 six.' 
 
 I I can get out of Magdalene though ; I'm game 
 
284 Chcclie Villars at Ca/mbridge. 
 
 to gallop over there, if you like/ said Cunning- 
 ham. 
 
 And so it was arranged that he and Lawton and 
 Lowry should meet at Death's at three o'clock a.m., 
 and ride over together. 
 
 It was a fine morning, and they had not to wait 
 long on the Heath before the string appeared, clothed 
 and attended. There was a small crowd of critics 
 and touts, ready to telegraph the slightest short- 
 comings, or evidences of doubtful wind, legs, or 
 condition. Before these they took their gallop, 
 and intelligence of their performance was despatched 
 forthwith to various parts of England, and perhaps 
 the world. 
 
 The Cambridge men galloped back through the 
 fresh morning air, and arrived in time to give their 
 opinions at an early breakfast. 
 
 On this Monday the County Match was com- 
 menced at Fenner's, and the cricketing and other 
 world sauntered up in that direction after hall. 
 
 Yillars had been lunching with a Harrow man 
 to meet a common friend from that institution, and 
 found Egerton on the ground in the centre of a 
 mixed group of cricket and stable men, who managed 
 somehow to fraternise on Fenner's. 
 
 They had just been applauding a magnificent 
 piece of fielding of Rowley's, when Charlie joined 
 them, and he was gratified to hear one or two 
 men in authority speak well of his chance of the 
 eleven. 
 
 'His fielding' s his best point,' said one. 
 
Cricket Shop. 285 
 
 'I've seen him get runs too/ 
 
 ' He plays back too muck.' 
 
 ' Singleton thinks a good deal of him/ said an 
 old man, who had come down the week before to 
 play in ' Past and Present/ ' By Jove, that's a good 
 hit,' he exclaimed, as Carpenter made a rattling 
 drive along the ground to the old pavilion. 
 
 ' Our bowling's rather weak, isn't it ? ' asked 
 Villars. 
 
 ' It's our worst point. But Oxford's shamefully 
 weak in batting.' 
 
 ' They lay six to four though, as often as you 
 like,' said one of the speculating crew ; ' I've got a 
 fellow there to take 'em all up.' 
 
 ' You'll hedge, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' I shall stand to win either way ; you can get 
 five to four on Cambridge up here, if you like.' 
 
 ' Well caught ! splendid catch ! ' every one ex- 
 claimed ; as Singleton held a hard hit to point in 
 his left hand. 
 
 ' You may lay six to four on our point if you 
 like,' said Murray ; ' if all our field were as good, it 
 would be a certainty. Nothing so useful as good 
 fielding.' 
 
 ' The horse is a noble animal,' said Castleton, 
 breaking in, tired of what he said was ' shop ; ' 
 though where cricket was to be talked if not at 
 Fenner's, he didn't explain. 
 
 ' On the Derby I'll bet,' he continued ; ' now then, 
 Harry, what do you want to do ? ' 
 
 ' I don't think you can accommodate me,' an- 
 
286 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 swered Egerton ; and as the conversation had been 
 broken up, the group separated, and he and Charlie 
 went off together to get a trap for Byron's Pool. 
 
 ' We may as well go down and see the boats/ 
 said Egerton, when they were returning from bath- 
 ing, ' as we have a trap/ 
 
 * Yery well ; but it's rather early, isn't it ? ' 
 
 ' Half-past six ; yes. Let 's go down to the 
 A. D. C. then, for a few minutes. I want to see 
 what time rehearsal is to-night.' 
 
 'I'm so thankful I haven't got to act this 
 term.' 
 
 4 It is rather hot work in the May term,' said 
 Egerton ; ' but it's very good fun.' 
 
 1 The rehearsals cut up one's time so, I should 
 never be able to read.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I'm all right for that, they're not half as 
 particular about the second-year May.' 
 
 There was not much interest in this night's 
 racing. Third Trinity still kept their lead, and 
 seemed likely to do so, but the assemblage at Grassy 
 was as large as ever, and the excitement of boating 
 men just as great. 
 
 Next day, any one who could give a sufficiently 
 good reason for going away, or produce, as some 
 tutors required, a letter from an anxious parent 
 requesting his attendance in London, got an absit 
 for the night to go to the Derby. Those who did 
 not want to go very sensibly stayed at Cambridge ; 
 and those who were eager, but unable to get absits, 
 managed to do it in the day by leaving early on 
 
Up to the Derby, 287 
 
 Wednesday morning. There is some ancient statute 
 not generally understood, which prohibits under- 
 graduates from even quitting Cambridge for the 
 day without leave ; but as long as they get back be- 
 fore twelve at night, no notice is ever taken of their 
 absence, which is probably not known. 
 
 It is only when accident has prevented their 
 return at night that condign punishment ensues ; so 
 that if any one wishes to take ' a day's outing/ he 
 will provide against mischance by asking for leave. I 
 never heard, though, of any one who did, except in 
 the case of the old Etonian foot-ball match, which 
 the authorities, or rather one of them, has lately 
 seen fit to prohibit, on the plea that it empties the 
 college. If Downing were the college in question, 
 there might be some reason in such an argument ; 
 but how eleven men can be said to empty Trinity, 
 when they are only a thimbleful in the resident 
 ocean, it is not easy to comprehend. 
 
 Charlie was nervous about coming out very low 
 in his May ; and thought that his father would not 
 be very well pleased if he found him running up 
 and down to Epsom instead of reading for it. He 
 remained, therefore, at Cambridge, and heard on 
 the Trinity Ground, at four o'clock, that Gamester 
 had won. 
 
 Although he had no direct interest in the race 
 himself, Egerton had, and Gamester was his horse, 
 so that he was as pleased as if he had won him- 
 self. 
 
 Most of the men came back by the mail that 
 
288 ChaHie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 night, and Egerton ran up into Villars' room for a 
 few minutes before twelve to be congratulated. 
 
 f They made him such a hot favourite before the 
 race/ he said, ' I could only get on at three to 
 two.' 
 
 ' Well, I'm awfully glad you've won, old boy,' 
 said Charlie ; ' who else has won ? ' 
 
 ' I believe Castleton has lost a goodish lot, he 
 would stick to Marksman ; I don't know whether 
 he hedged on the course. Carter ought to have won 
 a stake ; but one never knows how much to believe 
 of what he tells one, or Charlton either. He says 
 he lost a little ; but I expect he's got it rather hot. 
 I hope he'll pay up, that's all. Is your clock right ? 
 I must be off. Good night, Charlie, old boy ; see 
 you after lectures to-morrow.' 
 
 He was off, and in Charlie's ear — 
 
 ' So charmiDg left his voice, that he awhile 
 Thought him still speaking, still stood fixt to hear.' 
 
 Resuming his arm-chair, he gave himself up for 
 some moments to the delicious reverie which occa- 
 sionally steals over the sense after parting with a 
 dearly-loved friend. Such a reverie as Boileau's 
 lines so well express, — 
 
 ' Un image confas se repand sur ma vue, 
 Je n 1 entcnds plus, je tombe en de douces langueurs.'* 
 
 The witching hour of midnight, the mellow 
 
 * Translation, or rather, English rendering of an ode of 
 Sappho. 
 
Reverie. 289 
 
 light which the shaded lamp diffused through the 
 room, the quiet of the streets, the soft warm air that 
 floated in through the open window — all combined 
 to exercise a soothing influence on his feelings ; and 
 he lay back dissolved in a dreamy ecstasy, in fancy's 
 mirror still beholding the object of his thought, 
 still listening to the echoes of his voice ; dwelling on 
 each look, each word, to which affection gave a 
 charm of endearment : — 
 
 ' Some thoughts there are to mortals given, 
 With less of earth in them than heaven.' 
 
 But, unfortunately, the period of residence for 
 mortals in the seventh heaven is limited, and after a 
 few minutes Charlie returned, with a gentle sigh of 
 regret, to his trigonometry. 
 
 VOL. 1. 
 
290 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 ' Falstaff. What is honour 1 — A word. "What is that word 
 honour ? — Air. A trim reckoning ! . . . I'll none of it. 
 Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.' — 
 
 Henry 1 V. 
 
 ' Now reigns 
 The moon full-orb'd, and with more pleasing light, 
 Shadowy, sets off the face of things.' — Milton. 
 
 The stewards of the Yalley races were busy next 
 day in making the necessary arrangements for 
 Friday. The handicapping they had already settled, 
 after a certain amount of squabbling, owing to the 
 dislike of the several stewards (who were Lawton, 
 Carter, Cunningham, Lowry, and Castleton), to 
 have their own horses put in heavily. 
 
 It is a monstrous thing that the men who run 
 horses should have the handicapping of them. Of 
 course every one sticks up for his own interest, and 
 each man says, ' If you put my horse in heavy. I 
 shall do the same for you.' Possibly all this may 
 be changed now. This is how it used to be a few 
 years ago. One might have thought that good taste 
 would have prevented a man from giving his opinion 
 
Valley Races. 291 
 
 when his own horse was diseussed ; but among men 
 who run horses, or have anything to do with horse- 
 racing, good taste and everything else is made 
 second to interest. 
 
 1 Gain be my lord, for I will worship thee,' might 
 be their motto. 
 
 Charlie gave up his morning's reading on Friday, 
 and took his place on the Athenaeum drag, after 
 lectures, with ten or eleven others. 
 
 Most of the men who had horses entered had 
 ridden over early to see that they were all right, 
 their grooms having walked them over in the morn- 
 ing with their clothing. 
 
 The Valley does not, or rather used not, to 
 interest the general world of Cambridge much ; its 
 attraction only found favour in the sight of a limited 
 number of the University, either men directly in- 
 terested in their own horses, or betting men, or 
 would-be sporting men, and the majority of the 
 Athenaeum — which being the centre of the riding 
 interest, naturally followed the leaders of that de- 
 partment. Callaby was there with his tandem, 
 Spot Sanderson, and a bookmaker from Newmarket ; 
 with one or two jockeys from the same place, who 
 rode races for sovereigns between times ; and a 
 great many Roundchurch cads. There was a tent 
 erected for weighing, and so forth ; a winning-post 
 and judge's chair, with an apology of a framework 
 for the numbers of the horses. 
 
 It was very enjoyable, though the racing was 
 but poor. There was always plenty of champagne 
 
292 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 going, and everybody in high spirits, and the top 
 of a drag is a pleasant place to stand upon. 
 
 The odds offered by the bookmakers present 
 were ridiculously small ; but even so, they seldom 
 won, the University men knowing pretty well which 
 horse was the best, and the fields being usually small. 
 On one race, indeed, they landed their money, or 
 ought to have done so, a most certain ' pot,' as the 
 expression is, being ' upset.' 
 
 Cunningham's horse was a strong favourite ; 
 cdds were laid on him ; in fact, he was almost a 
 certainty for the Great Eastern Handicap, and he 
 led all the way to the top of the hill. Neville was 
 next on one of Castleton's horses, being a light 
 weight, and a good rider. Down the hill they came, 
 Cunningham well to the front, and Spot Sanderson 
 writing down Neville as often as the individuals on 
 the drag below which he stood would back him. 
 But Spot he saw another sight, as they neared the 
 ropes, and Cunningham's lead decreased at every 
 stride. 
 
 ' The Snipe wins,' ' Go it, Snipe,' was vociferated 
 from the top of the drag ; and the Snipe did manage 
 to get his head in front on the post, and won. 
 
 Sanderson paid up with a gloomy grin, and 
 there were whispers about Cunningham's having 
 taken the odds about his own horse to some amount. 
 However, it was never proved against him. 
 
 There was a livery-stable Handicap worth about 
 forty pounds, and a pony race, wherein some fine 
 riding was displayed by one or two gentlemen who 
 
Horses from Newmarkets 293 
 
 had evidently never ridden a race before, and tried 
 to finish with a loose rein and hands all over the 
 place. They succeeded most effectually in checking 
 their horses at every stride, and causing great 
 annoyance to their mouths. 
 
 One or two horses had been procured from one 
 of the racing stables at Newmarket for the occasion, 
 and were supposed to be the bond fide property of 
 their owners for the time being. 
 
 Questionable transactions these are, to say the 
 least, and, except to the perpetrators of thorn, ex- 
 ceedingly unsatisfactory. It would be much more 
 interesting for the University sj)ectator to see 
 genuine racing between horses which were the 
 every-day property of the men who entered them ; 
 instead of looking on at poor racing between second- 
 rate platers, who either don't really belong to the 
 men under whose names they run, or else have only 
 been bought up for the occasion, to be sold back 
 again when they have served their turn. The interest 
 of University races lies in identifying the horse with 
 the owner, and in seeing a competition between men 
 and horses with which one is familiar, and to a certain 
 extent interested in. When new horses are brought 
 out for these occasions only, there are no associations 
 connected with them, and one's interest is confined 
 to the men who ride them instead of applying 
 equally to horse and rider. 
 
 The day's racing is finished up with a Scurry 
 sweepstakes, and unless there is a row about 
 weights or horses being over age, or something of 
 
294 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 the kind, the day's sport has given general satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 It not unfrequently happens that some screw of 
 doubtful legs retires from ;the turf after the Valley, 
 as none but moderately good ones can stand the 
 steep hill, from the top of which some of the races 
 commence, and down which nearly every course 
 runs. 
 
 There is a tradition that in days gone by, the 
 proctors smelt out the races and appeared in the 
 middle of them on horseback. The principal pro- 
 moters of the meeting started off across country, 
 and soon pounded the proctors, but were rusticated 
 in due course — sicfama refert. Since that day, till 
 the course was ploughed up two years ago, the 
 Valley has not been profaned by tread of proctor, 
 and caps and jackets have been flaunted with 
 impunity. 
 
 It may be as well to mention that the Valley is 
 no soft velvet turf, extended at the foot of sloping 
 hills. Cambridgeshire possesses no such features, 
 excepting the ' Montes Hog Magog,' that may be 
 seen marked in a curious old picture-book. It is the 
 remains of a Roman line of fortification or ditching 
 of some kind — (Mr. Kingsley probably knows what 
 it was for) — and lying a little lower than the rest 
 of the surrounding ground, has obtained the un- 
 warranted name by which it is known. 
 
 Castleton had a large dinner in the evening, 
 chiefly composed of riding men, and as the conver- 
 
Moonlight. 295 
 
 sation therefore was of the horse horsey, Charlie 
 was glad enough when Egerton proposed to go and 
 walk, instead of playing loo. 
 
 ' What a comfort it is to get out of that heat ! ' 
 he said, as they strolled through the Old Court, where 
 the moon was casting dark shadows across the grass 
 from the battlemented lodge, and the tower of the 
 hall glistening like burnished silver in the cold 
 clear light. 
 
 Emerging through the gate into the shade be- 
 yond, they sauntered up Trinity Street towards 
 King's till Egerton suggested that they should turn 
 down towards the river. 
 
 Trinity Lane, gloomy and noisome, led them to 
 the bridge, where they halted and leaned over the 
 the parapet, peering into the dark water beneath, 
 where every star above and every overhanging 
 tree — 
 
 ' So true, so soft, the mirror gave, 
 As if there lay beneath the wave, 
 Secure from trouble, toil, and care, 
 A world than earthly world more fair.' 
 
 The moonlight, splintered into arrowy shafts, 
 made its way through the foliage above into the 
 dark recesses of gloom beneath the banks, while all 
 beyond — the drooping willows — the glistening 
 bridge in the distance — the smooth green slopes — 
 slept peacefully in the silver light which overspread 
 them ; and through the elms the lights of Trinity 
 
296 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 gleamed fitfully from the windows. All sounds 
 were hushed, 
 
 'Save where silence yields 
 To the night warbling bird, that now awake 
 Tunes sweetest his love-laboured song ; ' 
 
 trilling his rich notes in melodious cadence through 
 the motionless air. 
 
 For some minutes neither spoke, till the ' solemn 
 bird ' of night paused in his melody, and Villars 
 broke out, ' This is jolly, Harry ; why haven't we 
 ever come here before ? Just fancy playing loo in 
 that horrible atmosphere instead of enjoying this?' 
 
 ' Yes, indeed/ answered Egerton, ' I wonder 
 why one does it? Let's give up loo and walk 
 instead — 
 
 ' Now is the pleasant time 
 The cool, the silent, 1 
 
 somebody says.' 
 
 ' I never heard you quote poetry before, Harry,' 
 exclaimed Villars ; ' inspired by the moonlight ? ' 
 
 ' Picked it up out of some book I was reading this 
 morning, — rather appropriate I think. This sort 
 of thing,' continued Egerton, 'makes me feel quite 
 sentimental. How jolly it would be to cut the world 
 and go and live in some quiet place in the middle of 
 charming scenery; without loo, and row, and bother, 
 with some fellow one realty cared about ! Don't you 
 think it'd be awfully jolly ? ' 
 
 Charlie smiled as he wound his arm affectionately 
 
Trinity Bridge. 297 
 
 round him, and answered, ' Sounds jolly enough, old 
 boy; but one couldn't always have moonlight or sun, 
 and we should probably fight if we had wet weather, 
 and get tired of each other. ' 
 
 * I shouldn't/ said Egerton with energy. ' If I 
 really like any one, I stick to him. I don't make 
 a friend of a fellow for six weeks and then drop him 
 again, like Murray.' 
 
 * He throws off his friends like a huntsman his pack, 
 For he knows when he likes he can whistle them back,' 
 
 said Charlie. 
 
 Egerton might have returned, — 
 
 ' But he who loves, unlov'd, again, 
 Hath better store of love than brains : ' 
 
 he onty said, ' I think it's very bad form, that sort of 
 thing.' 
 
 * Well, but you know, Harry, it's quite possible to 
 see too much of one's friends ; and to get tired of 
 having no variety ; though of course I should never 
 feel so with you,' Charlie added, destroying his argu- 
 ment in his anxiety to leave no doubt of his friend- 
 ship. ' Besides,' he continued, 'I'm not like Murray 
 either ; I think it's an awful shame making a fellow 
 like you, and then dropping him for some one else, 
 as he does.' 
 
 A thought of Charlie's quondam attachment to 
 Rowley flitted across Egerton's mind, but it was not 
 allowed to disturb his visions of Elysium. 'I don't 
 
298 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 think he means to treat a fellow badly/ he said, in 
 allusion to Murray's inconstancy. 
 
 ' No, I don't think he does, — but it's rather hard 
 lines being made to waste^ one's affections for no- 
 thing. Do you think I'm wasting mine upon you ? ' 
 Villars added, turning with a smile to Egerton. 
 
 ' Don't be absurd, Charlie,' was the rejoinder ; 
 1 you don't suppose I should ever cut you ? ' 
 
 After a pause Egerton continued, ' If you hadn't 
 laughed at my last quotation I could have given you 
 another now, only you'd say it was sentimental.' 
 
 ' ~No, I shouldn't ; I was only surprised at your 
 quoting, because I've never seen you reading poetry, 
 and didn't know you cared about it.' 
 
 ' That's what fellows always think ; because you 
 ride, or play loo, or amuse yourself, that you can't 
 care for anything of that sort.' 
 
 ' Oh ! but I don't think so. I ride and amuse 
 myself, and I like poetry and reading too, only that- 
 one hasn't much time for them. So you needn't 
 think I'm a Goth, old boy.' 
 
 ' I didn't mean that you were,' said Egerton, 
 laughing ; ' you know a great deal more than I do. 
 There goes the quarter,' he added, as the clock of St. 
 Mary's rang out three-quarters after eleven. 
 
 ' I hadn't an idea it was so late,' said Charlie, 
 taking his arm. ' We'll come here again, and you 
 shall quote poetry as much as you like.' 
 
 ' You're coming to breakfast to-morrow,' said 
 Egerton, as they separated at the corner of the 
 Market-place. 
 
College Friendships. 299 
 
 'All right! half-past nine, I suppose/ — and say- 
 ing ' good-night/ Charlie turned towards Green 
 Street, and wandered dreamily back to his own 
 rooms. 
 
 'At school/ Mr. Disraeli tells us in " Con- 
 ingsby," ' friendship is a passion ; it entrances the 
 being, it tears the soul. All love of after-life can 
 never bring its rapture, or its wretchedness ; no 
 bliss so absorbing, no pangs of jealousy or despair 
 so crushing and so keen ! What tenderness and what 
 devotion, what illimitable confidence, infinite reve- 
 lations of inmost thoughts ; what ecstatic present, 
 and romantic future ; what bitter estrangements, 
 and what melting reconciliations ; what scenes of 
 wild recrimination, agitating explanations, passion- 
 ate correspondence ; what insane sensitiveness, and 
 what frantic sensibility ; what earthquakes of the 
 heart and whirlwinds of the soul are confined in that 
 simple phrase, — a schoolboy's friendship/ 
 
 All this may be said with equal truth of many, 
 perhaps not of most, University friendships. Half 
 the so-called men of whom the undergraduate portion 
 of the University consists are mere schoolboys in 
 habit and thought. Place them again at the 
 schools that most of them have but just left, and 
 they would be as much boys in their feelings and 
 passions as those they have left behind. 
 
 The sense of responsibility and independence 
 which University life creates, does not necessarily 
 deaden the life and damp the ardour of youth. 
 There have been as yet no influences at work to 
 
300 CharHe Vittars cU Gambridg . 
 
 cramp the free play of their feelings, and hold in 
 unnatural cluck the eager passage of the emoti< 
 The chilling power of the world has not yet begun 
 
 to do its work. Disappointment, anxiety, and care 
 are as yet unknown, except to the unhappy : 
 and the youthful fire of affection once aroused, bo 
 with as bright a flame as when first kindled in their 
 happy schoolboy days. It burns, too, with a more 
 constant flame. As the ripening judgment is slower 
 to select, so the object, when selected, is held in a 
 firmer grasp. Schoolboy friendships are evanescent, 
 unless circumstances favour their continuance. 
 College friendships, begun with all the ardour of 
 which youth is capable, not unfrequently tone down 
 into mutual attachments which last through life. 
 
:;oi 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 1 Spectatum admissi risum tcneatis 1 ' * — Horace. 
 
 On Saturday evening the procession of boats came 
 off. King's Lawn as usual was crowded with the 
 rank and fashion of Cambridge, who listened to the 
 gay strains of the Town Rifle Corps band, under the 
 direction of Mr. Sippel, till the boats arrived. 
 
 About half-past seven there is a run upon the 
 banks ; the boats are coming ; and Third Trinity, 
 decorated with laurel wreaths, sweeps past, receiving 
 the cheers of the assembled crowd. Trinity Hal] 
 followed, then First Trinity first boat, St. John's, 
 and the others in the order of the last night's racing. 
 They row a few strokes beyond King's Bridge, take 
 a sniff of Queen's, and come back stimulated for 
 claret-cup. Tin's they drink for the benefit of the 
 crowd opposite to King's, all the boats being drawn 
 up side by side across the river. 
 
 *Rmi kiWios, %. r, X. — when they have drunk enough, 
 they deliver themselves of several rounds of cheers, 
 
 * Could you keep from laughing if admitted to a private 
 view ? 
 
302 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 and then get them back to their boat-houses. One 
 boat generally sacrificing itself to create a little 
 excitement in the otherwise tame proceedings, and 
 upsetting. 
 
 The several boat clubs, or some of them in par- 
 ticular, — third Trinity, Trinity Hall, &c, — have 
 boating suppers in the evening, or else on the night 
 on which the races end. Here the men drink a 
 good deal of wine, mixing it with punch, and cups 
 of various and seductive composition ; and having 
 just gone out of training, and being unaccustomed to 
 much liquor, inevitably get drunk. 
 
 The streets resemble a little hell upon earth on 
 boat-supper nights ; for nearly every one is uproar- 
 iously not sober, and boating men understand better 
 than any others how to make a noise. 
 
 The unfortunate tutors, or would-be somnolent 
 dons, issue from their dens like avenging furies, 
 foaming at the mouth, lg rb *av jSfisXtargocro/, horrible 
 to behold ; but to no purpose. There may be a lull 
 for a time, but the noise breaks out with redoubled 
 energy ; and the infuriated don hides his diminished 
 head under the bed-clothes, preferring not to brave in- 
 dignity a second time, psyxoutf/ d' oh TXaro/cv <pv<ndfiaffiv. 
 
 Third Trinity have their supper at the Lion. 
 Trinity Hall, by kind permission of the Master, in 
 their College hall. This kind permission was re- 
 fused on one occasion, and the row that followed 
 would be ' an 'orrible tale ' to tell. The verdict the 
 University returned upon the case was, ' error of 
 judgment/ against the Master. 
 
Boat Suppers. 303 
 
 Quiet people have no peace in the May term — 
 orgy succeeds orgy in rapid succession. 
 
 The Monday following was the day of the True 
 Blue anniversary, which is a repetition of the Beef 
 Steak, in almost every thing, except that the True 
 Blue dinner is turtle- soup and punch, with every- 
 thing else to correspond ; and the Beef Steak is ox- 
 tail soup, with beef to follow. 
 
 Charlie had lately joined the True Blue, but had 
 not yet dined, so that he had not undergone as yet 
 the infliction of drinking his bottle of claret. He 
 was allowed to put it off until after the anniversary, 
 and got through it then with the usual unpleasant 
 consequences. One can hardly imagine that at 
 the present day a custom so barbarous should be 
 maintained as that of drinking off a bottle of claret 
 without taking the glass from the lips. But so it 
 is, and every new member of the True Blue has to 
 go through it. 
 
 Many men fought shy of the second anniversary, 
 after their experience of the first ; and many who 
 did not, repented of it afterwards. Champagne and 
 claret are pleasanter beverages than port and beer, 
 and make up by their seductiveness for the greater 
 intoxicating properties of the latter. By the time, 
 therefore, that 'the Muffin-man' was to be sung, 
 few were capable of even repeating the words cor- 
 rectly ; singing, of course, being out of the question. 
 
 ' The Muffin-man,' par parenthese, is a being of 
 doubtful origin, although every one in turn asserts 
 his acquaintance with him, and also the locale of 
 
394 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 his dwelling. The refrain is very simple. The 
 president asks his neighbour harmonically, ' Oh ! do 
 you know the Muffin-man ? Oh ! do you know his 
 name (Da capo, the former part), who lives in 
 Crumpet Lane ?' 
 
 His neighbour assures him (probably in reci- 
 tative, if he has drunk a sufficient quantity of wine), 
 ' Oh ! yes ; I know the Muffin-man. Oh ! yes ; I 
 know his name/ &c. He then proceeds in his turn 
 to propound the same important question to his 
 neighbour ; and when question and answer have 
 gone the round of the table, all rise, and with great 
 appearance of satisfaction, dance round the table, 
 singing, ' Then we all know the Muffin-man ; we 
 all know his name,' &c. ; till the chain of hands 
 is broken by the velocity with which the bodies are 
 moving, the table is most likely upset, and some- 
 body pushed down among the broken glass, and the 
 whole proceeding forms an excellent finale to an 
 evening of intellectual entertainment. This custom 
 is in vogue at all the dining clubs, and, I believe, 
 not peculiar to Cambridge. 
 
 I took some trouble to knock out on the piano 
 the tune to which the words go, for the benefit of 
 any one who might wish to introduce it into the 
 bosom of his family ; but I find that it is so very 
 similar to the air of ' There is nae luck about the 
 house/ that it may easily be adapted from that. 
 
 When I said that ' the Muffin-man' was of 
 doubtful origin, I did not mean to say that there 
 was no clue to his birth or life. 
 
The Muffin-man. 305 
 
 There has been found (I believe among the 
 archives of the Beef Steak) a document, of the exist- 
 ence of which, I think, few are aware. It has 
 made its way into the hands of the present holder 
 by a channel which I am not at liberty to divulge ; 
 and I have, with some difficulty, obtained permission 
 to copy portions of it for the benefit of the public. 
 It would appear to be an authentic history of the 
 first Muffin-man, abridged probably from some 
 larger biography for the members of the club. 
 Although much of it has been defaced by time or 
 port, I have been enabled, by a little patching here 
 and there, to knock out a very intelligible and con- 
 nected record. The interest which many University 
 men feel in the subject has stimulated me to spare 
 no trouble in deciphering the almost illegible charac- 
 ters ; and in its presentable shape it reads as follows : — 
 
 1 This memoir was presented to the Beef Steak 
 Club by ■ (name illegible). 
 
 1 In the year 17 — , there lived in Cambridge 
 town a man of poor but respectable parents, who 
 rejoiced in the good old Saxon name of Smith ; 
 prefixed in some of the old registers may be found 
 the somewhat quaint name of John. 
 
 ' It appears from a minute investigation of con- 
 temporaneous evidence that he was in early manhood 
 a person of retiring habits, shunning the busy haunts 
 of men, and, to all appearance, engaged in inves- 
 tigating some weighty problem, or perfecting some 
 profound and subtle theory. It is admitted ge- 
 nerally — in fact, there is no reason now to doubt — 
 vol. I. x 
 
306 Chcriie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 tliat in extreme youth he had filled the post of 
 assistant to a bread-manufacturer ; and it was while 
 in this position, beyond all doubt, that the germs 
 were created of that grand" scheme which in after 
 years took the world by surprise, and raised up for 
 the originator a monument — ' cere pereiijiiKsJ Of 
 his earliest childhood we can procure no accurate 
 information; the only point on which all autho- 
 rities agree, is, that he manifested an extraordinary 
 delight at the sight of biscuits with frequent holes, 
 and other eatables of a similarly perforated nature, — 
 the foreshadowing, doubtless, of his future work. 
 And considering what a man he afterwards was, and 
 the line in which his talents were directed, we may 
 well conceive that the custom now so common among 
 our children of making the luteous pattie in the 
 corners of our streets, emanated from his culinary 
 brain ; that it was the dawning of that art which 
 has since enrolled his name upon the pages of im- 
 mortality. There is no immediate evidence to show 
 the cause of his breaking from the trammels of an 
 apprenticed servitude ; but who that truly appre- 
 ciates his work will not understands the impossibiiity 
 of such a mind — so vast an intellect — being confined 
 within the narrow limits of a bakehouse ? Some 
 larger sphere was required to do justice to his 
 talents, and develope his grand conception. A mys- 
 terious haze enshrouds his proceedings from the time 
 in which he left the master-baker, to the day on 
 which the first instalment of his grand scheme was 
 given to the world. 
 
His History. 307 
 
 'On the day or year 17 — (the dates 
 
 arc hopelessly illegible), he produced a " Crumpet." 
 We gather from reliable sources that the world was 
 not taken by surprise, that it knew that a mountain 
 was in labour, and that no ridiculous abortion would 
 be the result ; and their confidence was fully justified. 
 All appreciating palates smacked with the author's 
 praise ; his work was in everybody's mouth, and his 
 fortune made from that day. The street in which 
 he lived took its name from his production, and was 
 known as Crumpet Lane long after he had ceased 
 to diffuse sweet culinary odours about its neighbour- 
 hood. When such was the result of his first pro- 
 duction, how shall we describe the furore of excite- 
 ment which ensued when it became known that he 
 meditated a second work, and an improvement on 
 the last ? Expectation was on the tippest of toes ; 
 speculation on the probable result took the place of 
 every other topic, and business was almost at a 
 standstill. The zenith of his fame was reached on 
 the (dates effaced) — when he gave to the world 
 "the Muffin." Who shall depict the extravagant 
 satisfaction with which this second work was de- 
 voured ? — the gusto with which each admirer lingered 
 over this feast of pure delight ? In a few hours 
 after coming out it was upon every table, from the 
 highest noble in the land to the pauper in his cot ; 
 and many an aged dame was finding a relish for her 
 evening bohea in this seductive accompaniment. 
 
 ' The work came out on a Saturday. The Beef 
 Steak were dining in the evening. The conversa- 
 
308 Charlie Villars at Ga/mbridge. 
 
 tion throughout dinner had naturally turned upon 
 the great event of the day. The man, his work, his 
 antecedents, had been discussed with all-absorb- 
 ing interest. What then more natural than that 
 before they separated, their enthusiasm should 
 prompt them to yet more strongly assert their in- 
 terest in everything connected with this distin- 
 guished man ? And could such a stirring theme 
 be pursued while sitting ? Impossible ! While they 
 mutually protested their acquaintance with even the 
 locality of his dwelling, their enthusiasm carried 
 them from their chairs, and in the excitement of the 
 moment they joined hands, and reiterating their 
 intimacy, danced in wild rapture round the festive 
 board. The ceremony was repeated on the occasion 
 of the next dinner, and remained established thence- 
 forward to succeeding ages. 
 
 ' The Muffin-man never left his original tenement 
 in Crumpet Lane, but died, alas ! in the flower of 
 his age, leaving his invaluable recipe to a long 
 string of little muffin-men, who, by some curious 
 freak of nature, or owing to the charitable dispo- 
 sition of the father, instead of being born with silver 
 spoons in their mouths, came into the world with 
 little bells in their hands.' 
 
:v><j 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 1 Meg. Tu ine et ego te qualis bis, scio.' * — Plactus. 
 ' Et jam finis erat.' f — Virgil. 
 
 As the A. D. C. was to commence the following 
 night, Douglas was in fear that members might be 
 incapacitated for acting, owing to the pocula of the 
 previous night. 
 
 His arrangements, however, were not materially 
 disarranged, and for a first night the performance 
 was creditable. 
 
 'Do you know any one here?' asked Yillars on 
 the ladies' night, of Lowry, whom he met coming 
 out of the room. 
 
 ' I've just been running my eye over the pack,' 
 was the reply, ' and don't see any that come from my 
 kennel.' 
 
 'Going to Ascot next week?' asked Carter, 
 coming up to them. 
 
 'I don't think I can get away?' answered 
 
 * We know each other, 
 t The end was now come. 
 
310 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 Lowry. ' I shall if it's possible. There's this in- 
 fernal May.' 
 
 ' They always fix their examinations at the most 
 inconvenient times/ said Carter. ' You may take 
 your oath they knew d — d well it was Ascot 
 week.' 
 
 ' Of course they did. I should like to have the 
 kicking of some of these dons ; they always try to 
 put a stop to any rational enjoyment.' 
 
 ' I hate the whole boiling of 'em ; there isn't a 
 respectable fellow amongst 'em, 
 
 ' I don't think Brown's a bad fellow,' suggested 
 Villars. 
 
 ' He's the best of a bad lot,' returned Lowry ; 
 ' he treats one more like a gentleman than the rest 
 of them.' 
 
 ' He's a dirty sneak too,' said Carter ; ' he 
 blackguarded me the other day for not keeping 
 chapels, and told me he should send me before the 
 Master if I wasn't more regular.' 
 
 I But you hardly ever go to chapel at all, do 
 you ? ' said Villars. 
 
 I I don't trouble it very often.' 
 
 * Well, you can't expect him not to take any 
 notice of it.' 
 
 ' They're a sneaking lot,' said Carter. ' They're 
 always at one for something or other.' 
 
 * Never can let a fellow alone,' said Lowry. 
 
 ' I always find Brown very jolly,' said Villars. 
 ' I believe if } r ou treat them properly, and don't 
 cheek them, they'd be civil enough.' 
 
Carter on Dons. 3 1 1 
 
 ' Bad breed/ said Carter, lifting up the curtain 
 into the audience-room. 
 
 ' What a d — d fine woman that fellow Vivian 
 makes ! ' he continued, as the latter appeared on 
 the stage. ' As nice a little filly as you'd wish to 
 see !' 
 
 ' That other man (I forget his name) looks the 
 most scrumptious of the two, I think,' said Lowry. 
 * Well, I've had enough of this,' he said, after look- 
 ing on for a few minutes ; ' are you coming to 
 French's, Charlie?' 
 
 Supper was going on there, and half-an-hour 
 afterwards the house was crowded with the men 
 who had been acting and audiencing ; congra- 
 tulating each other on the success of the week, full 
 houses, &c. &c. 
 
 As Lowry was going in for his degree in the 
 October term, and the May subjects were conse- 
 quently of no direct use to him, he persuaded his 
 tutor to let him off, and disported himself at Ascot 
 on Wednesday and Thursday instead. 
 
 Yillars had been putting on a spurt during 
 the last few days, and was fairly well, up in his 
 subjects when the examination began on Wednesday 
 morning. 
 
 The whole of the hall was filled with first and 
 second-year men (third-year going to one of the 
 lecture-rooms), and two or three examining dons 
 walked up and down to see that no books were 
 brought out, or copying done. Occasionally they 
 sat down, and then papers were passed across ; 
 
312 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 questions asked on slips of paper ; furtive pocket- 
 edition produced, or leaves which had been extracted 
 from likely places ; and the work of translating or 
 answering went on swimmingly. The examiners 
 resumed their exercise, and all became chaos again 
 in the examinee's mind, who bitterly cursed the 
 restless spirit of that examiner which suffered him 
 not to do his paper in peace. 
 
 Sometimes a clever man was induced to sit in a 
 different place from where the slip of paper with his 
 name on it had been pasted, in order that his papers 
 might be of service to his neighbours in that quarter 
 who were in greater need of assistance. His stay 
 however was generally cut short by the ruthless 
 Hoppett, who stalked about with his long paper 
 pricking down every one in his place. 
 
 From nine till twelve, and from one till four 
 o'clock every day, except Saturday (on that day in 
 the morning only), there were papers. Some who 
 were going in for a high class stayed the whole six 
 hours ; and then had to come out very often leaving 
 much unfinished. Others who could do no mathema- 
 tics, or to whom Greek and Latin were unknown 
 tongues, came out at the half-hour after going in 
 (the earliest possible time allowed), sending up 
 meagre papers with half a proposition, or an at- 
 tempt at the translation of a few lines. 
 
 Yillars was anxious to take a respectable place, 
 and therefore did his best at all the papers ; assisting 
 Vivian very much in the mathematical ones, but 
 
May Examination. 313 
 
 getting nothing in return. For that matter, he 
 would not have eared to have helped himself by any 
 unfair means, as he was not going in for a pass only. 
 Cribbing, copying, et hoc genus omne, is all very well 
 and not very dishonourable for poor devils who have 
 not an idea of their own, and are in mortal fear of 
 being plucked. It enables them to get through an 
 ordeal which they consider is only devised for their 
 torment, and which never would improve their in- 
 tellects in any appreciable degree ; and saves them 
 from the ignominy of not passing, and the conse- 
 quent trouble of reading up for a second examina- 
 tion. As it is not competitive, they do wrong to no 
 one by bringing themselves in by unfair means to 
 the exclusion of others. 
 
 It is a very different thing, though, in the case 
 of a man who goes in for xuco;. 
 
 Cribbing with him is ungentlemanlike to a de- 
 gree. He obtains a high place by his dishonesty, 
 and gets the credit of cleverness which he does not 
 possess. 
 
 Many persons doubtless think cribbing indefen- 
 sible under any circumstances. Perhaps they are 
 right, perhaps I am wrong. 
 
 Russell of course was very much down upon the 
 classical papers, but the mathematical ones he did 
 very little with. 
 
 It is not often that a head naturally takes to 
 both classics and mathematics. There are a few dis- 
 tinguished instances of eminence in both, but first- 
 
314 Charlie Villars at Cambridge, 
 
 rate success in one line is generally only accom- 
 panied by laboured mediocrity in the other, when 
 both are cultivated. 
 
 On Monday morning there was a Greek Testa- 
 ment paper, and there were papers up to AVednes- 
 day morning, when the College gave a sigh of relief 
 and went to its tutors for its exeat. 
 
 The list was not to be out till the following week, 
 and any one who required one to be sent to him left 
 his address at the butteries. 
 
 ' What sort of papers did you do ? ' asked Tillars, 
 as he came down from the Junior Dean's room with 
 Hussell, after having their exeats signed. 
 
 ' Not much in mathematics, pretty well in 
 classics.' 
 
 ' I suppose you'll get your " first." ' 
 
 1 Couldn't say, — what are you going to do in the 
 Long ? ' 
 
 ' I don't exactly know yet. I'm going to London 
 for some time.' 
 
 ' I'm coming up here at the beginning of Jul}-, 
 if I get a first.' 
 
 * A good many men come up in the Long to read, 
 don't they ? ' 
 
 '~No, not very many. I expect it'll be rather 
 slow. They say there's lots of cricket. I shall have 
 to read somewhere for iny Little Go.' 
 
 < But that's not till March.' 
 
 ' If you get into one of the first three classes 
 in your May you can go in at the October exami- 
 nation. I suppose it's for the benefit of fellows 
 
End of May Term. 315 
 
 going in for honours, that they may get it out of 
 their way.' 
 
 1 "Well, I don't suppose it'll affect me,' said 
 Charlie. ' Shall you be at the match ? ' he added, 
 stopping at the door of his rooms. 
 
 ' Most likely,' replied Russell. ' Good-bye, if I 
 don't see you again.' 
 
 Yillars shook hands with him and went up to see 
 after his packing, and settle the little bills of several 
 duns who were waiting about. 
 
 In the summer term every one goes down directly 
 the examination is over ; so that if any unfortunate 
 wretch is detained by adverse circumstances over the 
 Sunday, he may experience something of the sensa- 
 tions of Hood's "Last Man," — (not Campbell's) — 
 which I can tell him are not agreeable. 
 
 At the beginning of July, the men who have leave 
 to reside in the Vacation, begin to come up again, — a 
 mere handful only ; no one who has not got a first 
 class is allowed — except in rare instances — to be in 
 residence. Every one is obliged to live in college 
 and to be in by ten o'clock at night. This ride, as 
 there is nothing to attract anybody outside college, 
 is not a very hard one. The hardest is being obliged 
 to keep morning chapels at seven o'clock, there 
 being none in the evening. 
 
 Scholars are always allowed to remain up, being 
 supposed to have rooms assigned to them in College ; 
 they don't therefore require to ask leave. 
 
 The Long Vacation term is from the 1st of July 
 to the 12th of September; when every one goes 
 
316 Charlie Villars at Cambridge. 
 
 down to allow the bedmakers, and other high func- 
 tionaries of the College, free room for the shaking of 
 carpets, and general setting in order of. affairs for 
 the October term, which is supposed to begin on 
 the 1st of that month. 
 
 THE EXD OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON: 
 Printed by Strangeways Si Waldmc, Castle St. Leicester Sq. 
 
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