Chapter I: Preface

Though I intend this preface, prelude, or proem shall occupy but a single page, and be a _facile_ specimen of the _multum in parvo_ school, I find I have so little to say, I might spare myself the trouble of saying that little, only it might look a little odd (excuse my nibbing my pen) if, after writing a book, which by the way, may prove no book at all, I should introduce it to my readers,--did I say "READERS?"--what a theme to dilate upon! But stop, stop, Mr. Exultation, nobody may read your book, _ergo_, you will have no readers. Humph! I must nib my pen again. Cooks, grocers, butchers, kitchenmaids, the roast! Let brighter visions rise: methink I see it grace every room _Peckwater_ round: methink I see, wherever _mighty Tom_ sonorous peals forth his solemn "Come, come, come!" the sons of OXON fly to _Tallboys'_ store, or _Parker's_ shelves, and cry "_the_ Book, _the_ Book!" Methink I see in GRANTA'S streets a crowd for _Deighton's_ and for _Stevenson's_--anon, "_the_ Book, _the_ Book," they cry "Give us _the_ Book!" "_Quips, Quirks, and Anecdotes?_" "Aye, that's _the_ Book!" And, then, methink I see on CAMUS' side, or where the Isis by her Christ Church glides, or Charwell's lowlier stream, methink I see (as did the Spanish Prince of yore a son of Salamanca beat his brow) some _togaed_ son of ALMA MATER beat, aye, laugh and beat his brow. And then, like Philip, I demand the cause? And then he laughs outright, and in my face he thrusts a book, and cries, "Sir, read, read, read, ha, ha, ha, ha!" and stamps and laughs the while;--and then, ye gods, it proves to be _the_ Book,--_Quips, Quirks, and Anecdotes_--ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I cry you mercy, Sirs, read, read, read, read! From ETON, HARROW, WINCHESTER, and WEST, come orders thick as Autumn leaves e'er fell, as larks at Dunstable, or Egypt's plagues. The Row is in commotion,--all the world rushes by _Amen Corner_, or _St. Paul's_: how like a summer-hive they go and come: the very CHAPTER'S caught the stirring theme, and, like King James at Christ Church, scents a hum.[1] E'en CAXTON'S ghost stalks forth to beg a tome, and _Wynkyn's_ shroud in vain protests his claims. "There's not a copy left," cries _Whitt's_ or _Long's_, as Caxton bolts with the extremest tome, and Wynkyn, foiled, shrinks grimly into air,

Veil'd in a cloud of scarce black-letter lore.

Had Galen's self, sirs, _ab origine_, or Æsculapius, or the modern school of Pharmacopoeians drugged their patients thus, they long ago, aye, long ago, had starved; your undertakers had been gone extinct, and churchyards turned to gambol-greens, forsooth. Mirth, like good wine, no help from physic needs:--blue devils and ennui! ha, ha, ha, ha! Didst ever taste champagne? Then laugh, sirs, laugh,--"laugh and grow fat," the maxim's old and good: the stars sang at their birth--"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" I cry you mercy, sirs, _the_ Book, _the_ Book, _Quips, Quirks, and Anecdotes_. OXONIANS hear! "Ha, ha, ha, ha!" Let GRANTA, too, respond. What would you more? _the_ Book, sirs, read, read, read.

'Tis true, my work's a diamond in the rough, and that there still are _sparkling bits_ abroad, by wits whose wages _may not be to die_, would make it, aye, the very _Book of Books!_ Let them, anon, to _Cornhill_ wend their way (P.P.) to cut a figure in ED. sec. 3d, or 4th, from Isis or from Cam. What if they say, as MAUDLIN Cole of Boyle, because some Christ-Church wits adorned his page with their chaste learning, "'_Tis a Chedder cheese made of the milk of all the parish_,"--Sirs, d'ye think I'd wince and call them knave or fool? Methink I'd joy to spur them to the task! Methink I see the mirth-inspired sons of Christ-Church and the rest, penning Rich Puns, Bon-mots, and Brave Conceits, for ages have, at OXON, "borne the bell," and oft the table set in _royal_ roar. Methink I see the wits of CAMUS, too, go laughing to the task,--and then, methink, O! what a glorious toil were mine, at last, to send them trumpet-tongued through all the world!

[1] Sir Isaac Wake says in his _Rex Platonicus_, that when James
the First attended the performance of a play in the Hall of
Christ-Church, Oxford, the scholars applauded his Majesty by
clapping their hands and _humming_. The latter somewhat surprised
the royal auditor, but on its being explained to signify
applause, he expressed himself satisfied.

CONTENTS.

PAGE
Was Oxford or Cambridge first Founded? 13
Origin of this celebrated Controversy 16
Died of Literary Mortification 17
Sir Simon D'Ewes on Antiquity of Cambridge _ib._
Gone to Jerusalem 18
Cutting Retort--Liberty a Plant 19, 20
A Tailor surprised--Declining King George, &c. 20
Classical _Jeu D'Esprit_--Trait of Barrow 21
Inveterate Smokers 22
Lover of Tobacco--A Wager, &c. 22, 23
Newton's Toast--Piety of Ray 23
Devil over Lincoln--Radcliffe's Library 24
Traits of Dr. Bathurst--His Whip, &c. 25
Smart Fellows _ib._
Epigram--Tell us what you can't do? 26, 27
First Woman introduced into a Cloister 27
Cambridge Scholar and Ghost of Scrag of Mutton 28
Comparisons are odious 30
Jaunt down a Patient's throat--Difference of Opinion 30, 31
Petit-Maitre Physician--Anecdote of Porson 31
[Greek: Ou tode oud allo]--Aliquid--Di-do-dum 32
Bishop Heber's College Puns _ib._
Effect of Broad-wheeled Wagon, &c. 33
Queen Elizabeth and the Men of Exeter College, &c. 34
Oxonians Posed--Lapsus Grammaticæ 35
Latin to be Used--Habit--Concussion 36
Comic Picture of Provost's Election 37
Sir, Dominus, Magistri, Sir Greene 38
Husbands beat their Wives--Attack on Ladies 39
Doings at Merton--Digging Graves with Teeth 40
Doctor's Gratitude to Horse--John Sharp's Rogue 41
Said as how you'd See--Much Noise as Please 42, 43
Mad Peter-house Poet--Grace Cup 44, 45
Tertiavit--Capacious Bowl--Horn Diversion 46
Bibulous Relique--Christian Custom--Feast Days 47
Walpole at Cambridge--College Dinner 16th Century 49, 50
Black Night--Force of Imagination--Absent Habits 52, 53
Anecdotes of Early Cambridge Poets 54
Cromwell's Pear-tree, &c. 58
Stung by a B--Dr. P. Nest of Saxonists 61
Pleasant Mistake--Minding Roast 62
College Exercise--Bell--Fun--Tulip-time 62, 63
King of Denmark--King William IV. visit Cambridge 64, 65
Queen Elizabeth's Visit to Oxford and Cambridge 66, 67
First Dissenter in England 67
First English Play extant by Cambridge Scholar 68
Christ-Church Scholars Invented moveable Scenes 70
James I. at Oxford and Cambridge 71
Divinity Act--Latin Comedy 76, 77
Case of Precedence--Smothered in Petticoats 78, 79
Brief Account of Boar's Head Carols 79
Celebration of, at Queen's College, Oxon 83
Cleaving Block--Being little 84, 85
Traits of Porson--Wakefield--Clarke 87, 88
Blue Beans--University Bedels--Dr. Bentley 89, 90
Great Gaudy All-Souls Mallard 91
Oxford Dream--Compliments to Learned Men 96, 98
Point of Etiquette--Value of Syllable 101, 102
Cocks may Crow--Profane Scoffers 102
Jemmy Gordon--Oxford Wag 103, 106
Cambridge Frolics--Black Rash 107, 108
Old Grizzle Wig--Shooting Anecdotes 109, 110
Bishop Watson's Progress--Paley, &c. 111, 115
Oxford Hoax--Good Saying 116, 117
Walpole a Saint--Oxford famous for its Sophists, &c. 118
Laconic Vice--Usum Oxon--Pert Oxonians 120, 121
Corrupted Latin Tongue--Surpassed Aristotle, &c. 121
Set Aristotle Heels upwards--Art of Cutting 122, 123
Soldiers at Oxford Disputation, &c. 123
Captain Rag--Dainty Morsels 124, 125
Answered in Kind--Powers of Digestion 126, 127
Inside Passenger--Traits of Paley 128, 129
Lord Burleigh and Dissenters--Sayings 134, 135
Porson--Greek Protestants at Oxon 135, 136
Cambridge Folk--Gyps--Drops of Brandy--Dessert for
Twenty, &c. 137, 138
Parr's Eloquence--Address--Vanity, &c. 140
Trick of the Devil--Three Classical Puns 142, 143
Acts--Pleasant Story--Epigram--Revenge 144, 145
Mothers' Darlings--Fathers' Favourites 146, 147
Iter Academicum--A Story 148, 149
Anecdotes of Freshmen 150
Lord Eldon--Whissonset Church 151, 152
Boots--Yellow Stockings--Fashion Hair 153, 154
Barber dressed--First Prelate wore Wig 155, 159
Boots, Spurs, &c. prohibited at Oxon 159
Whipping, &c.--Flying Cambridge Barber 159, 160
Isthmus Suez--Drink for Church 160, 161
Good Appetite--College Quiz--The Greatest Calf 162, 163
Like Rabelais--Ambassadors King Jesus at Oxon 163, 164
Effort Intellect--Dr. Hallifax--Dr. Tucker 164, 165
Distich--Skeleton Sermons--Paid First 165, 166
In the Stocks--Hissing--Posing--Gross Pun 167, 168
Family Spintexts--Alcock--Barrow, Parr, &c. 169, 170
Three-headed Priest--Burnt to Cinder 171, 172
Cantab Invented Short-hand--Humble Petition of Ladies 172, 173
Turn for Humour--Repartees--All over Germany 174, 175
Oxford and Cambridge Rebuses 175
Something in your way--Duns--Out of Debt 177
Queering a Dun--Gray and Warburton 179
Canons of Criticism--Bishop Barrington 181
Pulpit Admonition--Simplicity of great Minds 182
Singularities--Triple Discourse 184, 185
Traits of Lord Sandwich--Lapsus Linguæ 185, 186
Oxford and Cambridge Loyalty--Clubs, &c. 186, 189
Retrogradation--On-dit 190
Worcester Goblin--Cambridge Triposes 191, 192
Records of Cambridge Triposes--Wooden
Spoon--Poll--Conceits of Porson, Vince, &c. 193, 194
Classical Triposes--Wooden Wedge--Disney's Song 197, 198
A Dreadful Fit of Rheumatism 199
Parr an Ingrate--Le Diable--Critical Civilities 200, 201
Sir Busick and Sir Isaac again--Cole: Deum 201, 202
Freshman's Puzzle 202
Sly Humourist--Noble Oxonian--Oxford Wag--Person
of Gravity 203, 204
THE ENOUGH 204

OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE

NUTS TO CRACK;

OR,

QUIPS, QUIRKS, ANECDOTE AND FACETE.

* * * * *

WAS OXFORD OR CAMBRIDGE FIRST FOUNDED?

"Oxford must from all antiquity have been either somewhere or
nowhere. Where was it in the time of Tarquinius Priscus? If
it was nowhere, it surely must have been somewhere. Where was
it?"--_Facetiæ Cant._

Here is a conundrum to unravel, or a nut to crack, compared to which the _Dædalean Labyrinth_ was a farce. After so many of the learned have failed to extract the kernel, though by no means deficient in what Gall and Spurzheim would call _jawitiveness_ (as their writings will sufficiently show,) I should approach it with "fear and trembling," did I not remember the encouraging reproof of "Queen Bess" to Sir Walter Raleigh's "Fain would I climb but that I fear to fall"--so _dentals_ to the task, come what may. A new light has been thrown upon the subject of late, in an unpublished "Righte Merrie Comedie," entitled "Trinity College, Cambridge," from which I extract the following

JEU DE POESIE.

When first our ALMA MATER rose,
Though we must laud her and love her,
Nobody cares, and nobody knows,
And nobody can discover:
Some say a Spaniard, one CANTABER,
Christen'd her, or gave birth to her,
Or his daughter--that's likelier, more, by far,
Though some honour king BRUTE above her.

Pythagoras, beans-consuming dog,
('Tis the tongue of tradition that speaks,)
Built her a lecture-room fit for a hog,[2]
Where now they store cabbage and leeks:
And there mathematics he taught us, they say,
Till catching a cold on a dull rainy day,
He packed up his _tomes_, and he ran away
To the land of his fathers, the Greeks.

But our ALMA MATER still can boast,
Although the old Grecian would go,
Of glorious names a mighty host,
You'll find in Wood, Fuller and Coe:
Of whom I will mention but just a few--
BACON, and NEWTON, and MILTON will do:
There are thousands more, I assure you,
Whose honours encircle her brow.

Then long may our ALMA MATER reign,
Of learning and science the star,
Whether she were from Greece or Spain,
Or had a king Brute for her Pa;
And with OXON, her sister, for aye preside,
For it never was yet by man denied,
That the world can't show the like beside,--
Let echo repeat it afar!

[2] The School of Pythagoras is an ancient building, situated
behind St. John's College, Cambridge, wherein the _old
Grecian_, says tradition, lectured before Cambridge became a
university. Whether those who say so _lie_ under a mistake,
as Tom Hood would say, I am not now going to inquire. At any
rate, "sic transit," the building is now a barn or storehouse
for garden stuff. Those who would be further acquainted with
this relique of by-gone days, may read a very interesting
account of it extant in the Library of the British Museum,
illustrated with engravings, and written by a Fellow of
Merton College, Oxford, to which society, says Wilson, in his
_Memorabilia Catabrigiæ_, "it was given by Edward IV., who
took it from King's College, Cambridge. It is falsely
supposed to have been one of the places where the Croyland
Monks read lectures."

It matters little whether we sons of _Alma Mater_ sprung from the loins of Pythagoras, Cantaber, or the kings Brute and Alfred. They were all respectable in their way, so that we need not blush, "proh pudor," to own their paternity. But let us hear what the _cutting_ writer of _Terræ Filius_ has to say on the subject. "Grievous and terrible has been the squabble, amongst our chronologers and genealogists concerning

THE PRECEDENCE OF OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE.

What deluges of Christian ink have been shed on both sides in this weighty controversy, to prove which is the elder of the two learned and most ingenious ladies? It is wonderful to see that they should always be making themselves older than they really are; so contrary to most of their sex, who love to conceal their wrinkles and gray hairs as much as they can; whereas these two aged matrons are always quarrelling for seniority, and employing counsel to plead their causes for 'em. These are Old _Nick Cantalupe_ and _Caius_ on one side, and _Bryan Twynne_ and _Tony Wood_ on the other, who, with equal learning, deep penetration, and acuteness, have traced their ages back, God knows how far: one was born just after the siege of _Troy_, and the other several hundred years before Christ; since which time they have gone by as many names as the pretty little _bantling_ at _Rome_, or the woman that was hanged t'other day in _England_, for having twenty-three husbands. _Oxford_, say they, was the daughter of _Mempricius_, an old _British_ King, who called her from his own name, _Caer Memprick_, alias _Greeklade_, alias _Leechlade_, alias _Rhidycen_, alias _Bellositum_, alias _Oxenforde_, alias _Oxford_, as all great men's children have several names. So was _Cambridge_, say others, the daughter of one _Cantaber_, a _Spanish_ rebel and fugitive, who called her _Caergrant_, alias _Cantabridge_, alias _Cambridge_. But, that I may not affront either of these old ladies," adds this facetious but sarcastic writer, "I will not take it upon me to decide which of the two hath most wrinkles * * * *. Who knows but they may be twins."

Another authority, the author of the History of Cambridge, published by Ackermann, in 1815, says that

THIS CELEBRATED CONTROVERSY

Had its origin in 1564, when Queen Elizabeth visited the University of Cambridge, and "the Public Orator, addressing Her Majesty, embraced the opportunity of extolling the antiquity of the University to which he belonged above that of Oxford. This occasioned Thomas Key, Master of University, College, Oxford, to compose a small treatise on the antiquity of his own University, which he referred to the fabulous period when the Greek professors accompanied BRUTE to England; and to the less ambiguous era of 870, when Science was invited to the banks of the Isis, under the auspices of the great Alfred. A MS. copy of this production of Thomas Key accidentally came into the hands of the Earl of Leicester, from whom it passed into those of Dr. John Caius (master and founder of Gonvile and Caius Colleges, Cambridge,) who, resolving not to be vanquished in asserting the chronological claims of his own University, undertook to prove the foundation of Cambridge by CANTABER, nearly four hundred years before the Christian era. He thus assigned the birth of Cambridge to more than 1200 anterior to that which had been secondarily ascribed to Oxford by the champion of that seat of learning; and yet it can be hardly maintained that he had the best of the argument, since the primary foundation by the son of Æneas, it is evident, remains unimpeached, and the name of Brute, to say the least of it, is quite as creditable as that of Cantaber. The work which Dr. John Caius published, though under a feigned name, along with that which it was written to refute, was entitled, '_De Antiquitate Catabrigiensis Academiæ_, libri ii. _in quorum 2do. de Oxoniensis quoque gymnasii antiquitate disseritur, et Cantabrigiense longe eo antiquius esse definitur, Londinense Authore: adjunximus assertionem antiquitatis Oxoniensis Academiæ ab Oxoniensi quodam annis jam elapsis duobus ad reginam conscriptam in qua docere conatur, Oxoniense gymnasium Cantabrigiensi antiquius esse: ut ex collatione facile intelligas, utra sit antequior. Excusum Londini,_ A. D. 1568, _Mense Augusto, per Henricum Bynnenum,_ 12mo.'" and is extant in the British Museum. As may well be supposed by those who are acquainted with the progress of literary warfare, this work of Dr. John Caius drew from his namesake, Thomas Caius, a vindication of that which it was intended to refute; and this work he entitled "_Thomæ Caii Vindiciæ Antiquitatis Academiæ Oxoniensis contra Joannem Caium Cantabrigiensem._" These two singular productions were subsequently published together by Hearne, the Oxford antiquary, who, with a prejudice natural enough, boasts that the forcible logic of the Oxford advocate "broke the heart and precipitated the death of his Cambridge antagonist." In other words, Dr. John Caius, it is said,

DIED OF LITERARY MORTIFICATION,

On learning that his Oxford opponent had _prepared a new_ edition of his work, _to be published after his death_, in which he was told were some arguments thought to bear hard on his own. "But this appears to have as little foundation as other stories of the kind," says the editor of the History just quoted; "since it is not probable that Dr. John Caius ever saw the strictures which are said to have occasioned his death: for, as Thomas Caius died in 1572, they remained in MS. till they were published by Hearne in 1730;"--a conclusion, however, to which our learned historian seems to have jumped rather hastily, as it was just as possible that a MS. copy reached Dr. John Caius in the second as in the first case; and it is natural to suppose that the Oxford champion would desire it should be so. As a specimen of the manner in which such controversies are conducted, I conclude with the brief notice, that Tony Wood, as the author of _Terræ-Fillius_ calls him, has largely treated of the subject in his _Annals of Oxford_, where he states, that

SIR SIMON D'EWES,

When compiling his work on the antiquity of the University of Cambridge, "thought he should be able to set abroad a _new matter_, that was never heard of before, for the advancement of his own town and University of Cambridge above Oxford;" but "hath done very little or nothing else but renewed the old Crambe, and taken up Dr. Cay's old song, running with him in his opinions and tenets, whom he before condemning of dotage, makes himself by consequence a dotard." According to Sir Simon, "Valence College (_i. e._ Pembroke Hall) was the first endowed college in England;" "his avouching which," says Wood, "is of no force;" and he, as might be expected, puts in a claim for his own college (Merton, of Oxford,) "which," he adds, "Sir Simon might have easily known, had he been conversant with histories, was the oldest foundation in either University." Therefore, "if the antiquity of Cambridge depends upon Valence College (or rather, upon Peter House,) and that house upon this distich, which stood for a public inscription in the parlour window thereof, it signifies nothing:--

"Qua præit Oxoniam Cancestria longa vetustas
Primatus a Petri dicitur orsa Domo."

He finally overwhelms his opponent by adding, that Oxford became a public University in 1264, and that a bull for the purpose was obtained the previous year, Cambridge then "_being but an obscure place of learning, if any at all_." Thus I have cracked _Nut the First_. Those who would add "sweets to the sweets" may find them in abundance in the writers I have named already; and the subject is treated of very learnedly by Dyer, in his _Dedication_ to his "Privileges of the University of Cambridge."

* * * * *

GONE TO JERUSALEM.

A learned living oriental scholar, and a senior fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge, who thinks less of journeying to Shiraz, Timbuctoo, or the Holy Land, than a Cockney would of a trip to Greenwich Fair or Bagnigge Wells, _kept_ in the same court, in College, with a late tutor, now the amiable rector of Staple----t, in Kent. It was their daily practice, when in residence, to take a ramble together, by the footpaths, round by Granchester, and back to College by Trumpington, or to Madingley, or the Hills, but more commonly the former; all delightful in their way, and well known to gownsmen for various associations. To one of these our College dons daily wended their way cogitating, for they never talked, it is said, over the _omnia magna_ of Cambridge life. Their invariable practice was to keep moving at a stiff pace, some four or five yards in advance of each other. Our amiable tutor went one forenoon to call on Mr. P. before starting, as usual, and found his door _sported_. This staggered him a little. Mr. P.'s bed-maker chanced to come up at the instant. "Where is Mr. P.?" was his query. "Gone out, sir," was the reply. "Gone out!" exclaimed Mr. H.; "Where to?" "To _Jerusalem_," she rejoined. And to Jerusalem he was gone, sure enough; a circumstance of so little import in his eyes, who had seen most parts of the ancient world already, and filled the office of tutor to an Infanta of Spain, that he did not think it matter worth the notice of his _College Chum_. Other travellers, "_vox et ratio_," as Horace says, would have had the circumstance bruited in every periodical in Christendom, "_quinque sequuntur te pueri_."

* * * * *

A CUTTING RETORT

Is attributed to the celebrated Lord Chesterfield, when a student of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, where he is said to have studied hard, and rose daily, in the depth of winter, at four or five. He one day met a drunken fellow in the streets of Cambridge, who refused him the wall, observing, "I never give the wall to a rascal." "I do," retorted his Lordship, moving out of the way. It was probably this incident that gave rise to the couplet--

"Base man to take the wall I ne'er permit."
The scholar said, "I do;" and gave him it.

* * * * *

LIBERTY A PLANT.

"Qui teneros CAULES alieni fregerit horti."--_Hor._

During the progress of a political meeting held in the town of Cambridge, it so happened that the late Dr. Mansel, then Public Orator of the University of Cambridge, but afterwards Master of Trinity College and Bishop of Bristol, came to the place of meeting just as Musgrave, the well known political tailor of his day, was in the midst of a most _pathetic_ oration, and emphatically repeating, "Liberty, liberty, gentlemen--" He paused,--"Liberty is _a plant_--" "So is a _cabbage!_" exclaimed the caustic Mansel, before Musgrave had time to complete his sentence, with so happy an allusion to the trade of the tailor, that he was silenced amidst roars of laughter. Another instance of--

A TAILOR BEING TAKEN BY SURPRISE,

But by an Oxonian, a learned member of Christ Church, is recorded in the fact, that having, for near half a century, been accustomed to walk with a favourite stick, the _ferule_ of which, at the bottom, came off, he took it to his _tailor_ to have it repaired.

* * * * *

REASONS FOR NOT PUBLISHING.

The famous antiquary, Thomas Baker, B.D. of St. John's College, Cambridge, of which he was long _Socius Ejectus_, lays it down as a principle, in his admirable _Reflections on Learning_, "that if we had _fewer_ books, we should have more learning." It is singular that he never published but the one book named, though he has left behind him forty-two volumes of manuscripts, the greater part in the Harleian Collection, in the British Museum, principally relating to Cambridge, and all neatly written in his own hand.

* * * * *

DECLINING KING GEORGE.

When "honest Vere" Foster, as he is called by "mild William," his contemporary at College, and the grandfather of our celebrated traveller, Dr. Edward Daniel Clarke, was a student at Cambridge, where he was celebrated for his wit and humour, and for being a good scholar, St. John's being looked upon as a Tory college, a young fellow, a student, reputed a Whig, was appointed to deliver an oration in the College Hall, on the 5th of November. This he did; but having, for some time, dwelt on the double deliverance of that day, in his peroration, he passed from King William to King George, on whom he bestowed great encomiums. When the speech was over, honest Vere and the orator being at table together, the former addressed the latter with, "I did not imagine, sir, that you would _decline_ King George in your speech." "_Decline!_" said the astonished orator; "what do you mean? I spoke very largely and handsomely of him." "That is what I mean, too, sir," said Vere: "for you had him in every case and termination: _Georgius--Georgii--Georgio--Georgium--O Georgi!_"

Another of "honest Vere's"

CLASSICAL JEU D'ESPRIT

Is deserving a place in our treasury. He one day asked his learned college contemporary, Dr. John Taylor, editor of Demosthenes, "why he talked of selling his horse?" "Because," replied the doctor, "I cannot afford to keep him in these _hard times_." "You should keep a _mare_," rejoined Foster, "according to Horace--

'Æquam memento rebus in arduis
Servare.'"

* * * * *

A TRAIT OF BARROW.

Soon after that great, good, and loyal son of Granta, Dr. Isaac Barrow, was made a prebend of Salisbury, says Dr. Pope, "I overheard him say, '_I wish I had five hundred pounds_.' 'That's a large sum for a philosopher,' observed Dr. Pope; 'what would you do with so much?' 'I would,' said he, 'give it to my sister for a portion, that would procure her _a good husband_.' A few months after," adds his memorialist, "he was made happy by receiving the above sum," which he so much desired, "for putting a _new life_ into the _corps_ of his new prebend."

* * * * *

INVETERATE SMOKERS.

Both Oxford and Cambridge have been famous for inveterate smokers. Amongst them was the learned Dr. Isaac Barrow, who said "it helped his thinking." His illustrious pupil, NEWTON, was scarcely less addicted to the "Indian weed," and every body has heard of his _hapless courtship_, when, in a moment of forgetfulness, he popped the lady's finger into his burning pipe, instead of _popping the question_, and was so chagrined, that he never could be persuaded to press the matter further. Dr. Parr was allowed his pipe when he dined with the _first gentleman in Europe_, George the Fourth, and when refused the same indulgence by a lady at whose house he was staying, he told her, "she was the greatest _tobacco-stopper_ he had ever met with." The celebrated Dr. Farmer, of _black-letter_ memory, preferred the comforts of the parlour of Emmanuel College, of which he was master, and a "_yard of clay_" (there were no _hookahs_ in his day,) to a bishopric, which dignity he twice refused, when offered to him by Mr. Pitt. Another learned

LOVER OF TOBACCO,

And eke of wit, mirth, puns, and pleasantry, was the famous Dr. Aldrich, Dean of Christ Church, Oxford, the never-to-be-forgotten composer of the good old catch--

"Hark, the merry Christ-Church bells,"

and of another to be _sung by four men smoking their pipes_, which is not more difficult to sing than diverting to hear. His pipe was his breakfast, dinner, and supper, and a student of Christ Church, at 10 o'clock one night, finding it difficult to persuade a "freshman" of the fact, laid him

A WAGER,

That the Dean was at that instant smoking. Away he hurried to the deanery to decide the controversy, and on gaining admission, apologised for his intrusion by relating the occasion of it. "Well," replied the Dean, in perfect good humour, with his pipe in his hand, "you see you have lost your wager: for I am not smoking, but filling my pipe."

* * * * *

GAME IN EVERY BUSH.

Bishop Watson says, in his valuable Chemical Essays, that Sir Isaac Newton and Dr. Bentley met accidentally in London, and on Sir Isaac's inquiring what philosophical _pursuits_ were carrying on at Cambridge, the doctor replied, "None; for when you are a-hunting, Sir Isaac, you kill all the game; you have left us nothing to pursue." "Not so," said the philosopher, "you may start a variety of game in every bush, if you will but take the trouble to beat it." "And so in truth it is," adds Dr. W.; "every object in nature affords occasion for philosophical experiment."

* * * * *

NEWTON'S TOAST.

The Editor of the Literary Panorama, says Corneille Le Bruyer, the famous Dutch painter, relates, that "happening one day to dine at the table of Newton, with other foreigners, when the dessert was sent up, Newton proposed, 'a health to the men of every country who believed in a God;' which," says the editor, "was drinking the health of the whole human race." Equal to this was

THE PIETY OF RAY,

The celebrated naturalist and divine, who (when ejected from his fellowship of Trinity College, Cambridge, for _non-conformity_, and, for the same reason, being no longer at liberty to exercise his clerical functions as a preacher of the Gospel,) turned to the pursuit of the sciences of natural philosophy and botany for consolation. "Because I could no longer serve God in the church," said this great and good man (in his Preface to the Wisdom of God manifested in the Works of the Creation,) "I thought myself more bound to do it by my writings."

* * * * *

THE DEVIL LOOKING OVER LINCOLN.

Is a tradition of many ages' standing, but the origin of the celebrated statue of his Satanic Majesty, which of erst overlooked Lincoln College, Oxford, is not so certain as that the effigy was popular, and gave rise to the saying. After outstanding centuries of hot and cold, jibes and jeers, "_cum multis aliis_," to which _stone_, as well as flesh, is heir, it was taken down on the 15th of November, 1731, says a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, having lost its head in a storm about two years previously, at the same time the head was blown off the statue of King Charles the First, which overlooked Whitehall.

* * * * *

RADCLIFFE'S LIBRARY.

Tom Warton relates, in his somewhat rambling Life of Dr. Ralph Bathurst, President of Trinity College, Oxford, that Dr. Radcliffe was a student of Lincoln College when Dr. B. presided over Trinity; but notwithstanding their difference of age and distance of situation, the President used to visit the young student at Lincoln College "merely for the smartness of his conversation." During one of these morning or evening calls, Dr. B. observing the embryo physician had but few books in his chambers, asked him "Where was his study?" upon which young Radcliffe replied, pointing to a few books, a skeleton, and a herbal, "This, Sir, is Radcliffe's library." Tom adds the following

TRAITS OF DR. BATHURST'S WIT AND HABITS.

When the Doctor was Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, a captain of a company, who had fought bravely in the cause of his royal master, King Charles the First, being recommended to him for the degree of D.C.L., the doctor told the son of Mars he could not confer the degree, "but he would apply to his majesty to give him a regiment of horse!"

HE FREQUENTLY CARRIED A WHIP IN HIS HAND,

An instrument of correction not entirely laid aside in our universities in his time; but (says Tom) he _only_ "delighted to _surprise_ scholars, when walking in the grove at unseasonable hours. This he practised," adds Warton, "on account of the pleasure he took in giving _so odd_ an alarm, rather than from any principle of reproving, or intention of applying so illiberal a punishment." One thing is certain, that in the statutes of Trinity College, Oxford (as late as 1556,) scholars of the foundation are ordered to be

WHIPPED EVEN TO THE TWENTIETH YEAR.

"Dr. Potter," says Aubery, while a tutor of the above college, "_whipped his pupil with his sword by his side_, when he came to take his leave of him to go to the Inns of Court." This was done to make him a _smart_ fellow. "In Sir John Fane's collection of letters of the Paston family, written _temp_. Henry VI.," says the author of the _Gradus ad Catabrigiam_, "we find one of the GENTLE SEX prescribing for her son, who was at Cambridge," no doubt with a maternal anxiety that he should

BE A SMART FELLOW,

as follows:--"Prey Grenefield to send me faithfully worde by wrytyn, who (how) Clemit Paston hathe do his dever i' lernying, and if he hath nought do well, nor will nought amend, prey hym that he wyll truely BELASH hym _tyl_ he wyll amend, and so dyd the last mastyr, and the best eu' he had at Cambridge." And that Master Grenefield might not want due encouragement, she concludes with promising him "X m'rs," for his _pains_. We do not, however, learn how many _marks_ young Master Clemit received, who certainly took _more pains_.--PATIENDO _non faciendo_--FERENDO _non feriendo_.

* * * * *

MILTON WAS BELASHED

over the buttery-hatch of Christ-College, Cambridge, and, as Dr. Johnson insinuates in his Life, was the last Cambridge student so castigated in either university. The officer who performed this _fundamental_ operation was Dr. Thomas Bainbrigge, the master of Christ's College. But as it was at a later date that Dr. Ralph Bathurst carried his whip, according to our friend Tom's showing, to _surprise_ the scholars, it is therefore going a great length to give our "Prince of Poets" the _sole_ merit of being the last _smart_ fellow that issued from the halls of either Oxford or Cambridge, handsome as he was.

The following celebrated

EPIGRAM ON AN EPIGRAM,

Printed, says the Oxford Sausage, "from the original MSS. preserved in the ARCHIVES of the Jelly-bag Society," is somewhere said to have been written by Dr. Ralph Bathurst, when an Oxford scholar:--

One day in _Christ-church_ meadows walking,
Of poetry and such things talking,
Says _Ralph_, a merry wag,
An EPIGRAM, if right and good,
In all its circumstances should
Be like a JELLY-BAG.

Your simile, I own, is new,
But how dost make it out? quoth Hugh.
Quoth RALPH, I'll tell you, friend:
Make it at top both wide and fit
To hold a budget full of wit,
And point it at the end.

* * * * *

TELL US WHAT YOU CAN'T DO?

A party of Oxford scholars were one evening carousing at the Star Inn, when a waggish student, a stranger to them, abruptly introduced himself, and seeing he was not "one of us," they all began to _quiz_ him. This put him upon his mettle, and besides boasting of other accomplishments, he told them, in plain terms, that he could write Greek or Latin Verses better, and was, in short, an over-match for them at any thing. Upon this, one of the party exclaimed, "You have told us a great deal of what you can do, _tell us something you can't do_?" "Well," he retorted, "I'll tell you what I can't do--_I can't pay my reckoning!_" This sally won him a hearty welcome.

* * * * *

THE FIRST WOMEN INTRODUCED INTO A CLOISTER.

About 1550, whilst the famous Richard Cox, Bishop of Ely, was Dean of Christ-church, Oxford, says Cole, in his Athenæ Cant., "he brought his wife into the college, who, with the wife of Peter Martyr, a canon of the same cathedral, were observed to be the first women ever introduced into a cloister or college, and, upon that account, gave no small scandal at the time." This reminds me of an anecdote that used to amuse the under-grads in my day at Cambridge. A certain D.D., head of a college, a _bachelor_, and in his habits retired to a degree of solitariness, in an unlucky moment gave a lady that did not want twice bidding, not bill of exchange, but a _running_ invitation to the college lodge, to be used at pleasure. She luckily seized the long vacation for making her appearance, when there were but few students in residence; but to the confusion of our D.D., her _ten_ daughters came _en traine_, and the college was not a little scandalized by their playing shuttlecock in the open court--the lady was in no haste to go. Report says sundry hints were given in vain. She took his original _invite_ in its literal sense, to "suit her own convenience." The anxiety he endured threw our modest D.D. in to a sick-bed, and not relishing the office of nurse to a bachelor of sixty years' standing, she decamped, + her ten daughters.

* * * * *

THE CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR AND THE GHOST OF A SCRAG OF MUTTON.

In the days that are past, by the side of a stream,
Where waters but softly were flowing,
With ivy o'ergrown an old mansion-house stood,
That was built on the skirts of a chilling damp wood,
Where the yew-tree and cypress were growing.

The villagers shook as they passed by the doors,
When they rested at eve from their labours;
And the traveller many a furlong went round,
If his ears once admitted the terrific sound,
Of the tale that was told by the neighbours.

They said, "that the house in the skirts of the wood
By a saucer-eyed ghost was infested,
Who filled every heart with confusion and fright,
By assuming strange shapes at the dead of the night,
Shapes monstrous, and foul, and detested."

And truly they said, and the monster well knew,
That the ghost was the greatest of evils;
For no sooner the bell of the mansion toll'd one,
Than the frolicksome imp in a fury begun
To caper like ten thousand devils.

He appeared in forms the most strange and uncouth,
Sure never was goblin so daring!
He utter'd loud shrieks and most horrible cries,
Curst his body and bones, and his _sweet little eyes_,
Till his impudence grew beyond bearing.

Just at this nick o' time, when the master's sad heart
With anguish and sorrow was swelling,
He heard that a scholar with science complete,
Full of magical lore as an egg's full of meat,
At _Cambridge_ had taken a dwelling.

The scholar was versed in all magical arts,
Most famous was he throughout _college_;
To the Red Sea full oft many an unquiet ghost,
To repose with King Pharaoh and his mighty host
He had sent through his powerful knowledge.

To this scholar so learn'd the master he went,
And as lowly he bent with submission,
Told the freaks of the horrible frights
That prevented his household from resting at nights,
And offered this humble petition:--

"That he, the said scholar, in wisdom so wise,
Would the mischievous fiend lay in fetters;
Would send him in torments for ever to dwell,
In the nethermost pit of the nethermost hell,
For destroying the sleep of his betters."

The scholar so versed in all magical lore,
Told the master his pray'r should be granted;
He ordered his horse to be saddled with speed,
And perch'd on the back of his cream colour'd steed,
Trotted off to the house that was haunted.

"Bring me turnips and milk!" the scholar he cried,
In voice like the echoing thunder:
He brought him some turnips and suet beside,
Some milk and a spoon, and his motions they eyed,
Quite lost in conjecture and wonder.

He took up the turnips, and peel'd off the skins,
Put them into a pot that was boiling;
Spread a table and cloth, and made ready to sup,
Then call'd for a fork, and the turnips fished up
In a hurry, for they were a-spoiling.

He mash'd up the turnips with butter and milk:
The hail at the casement 'gan clatter!
Yet this scholar ne'er heeded the tempest without,
But raising his eyes, and turning about,
Asked the maid for a small wooden platter.

He mash'd up the turnips with butter and salt,
The storm came on thicker and faster--
The lightnings went flash, and with terrific din
The wind at each crevice and cranny came in,
Tearing up by the root lath and plaster.

He mash'd up the turnips with nutmegs and spice,
The mess would have ravish'd a glutton;
When lo! with sharp bones hardly covered with skin,
The ghost from a nook o'er the window peep'd in,
In the form of _a boil'd scrag of mutton_.

"Ho! Ho!" said the ghost, "what art doing below?"
The scholar peep'd up in a twinkling--
"The times are too hard to afford any meat,
So to render my turnips more pleasant to eat,
A few grains of pepper I'm sprinkling."

Then he caught up a fork, and the mutton he seiz'd,
And soused it at once in the platter;
Threw o'er it some salt and a spoonful of fat,
And before the poor ghost could tell what he was at,
He was gone like a mouse down the throat of a cat,
And this is the whole of the matter.

* * * * *

COMPARISONS ARE ODIOUS.

Doctor John Franklin, Fellow and Master of Sidney College, Cambridge, 1730, "a very fat, rosy-complexioned man," dying soon after he was made Dean of Ely, and being succeeded by Dr. Ellis, "a meagre, weasel-faced, swarthy, black man," the _Fenman_ of Ely, says (Cole) in allusion thereto, out of vexation at being so soon called upon for _recognition money_, made the following humorous distitch:--

"The Devil took our Dean,
And pick'd his bones clean;
Then clapt him on a board,
And sent him back again."

* * * * *

JAUNT DOWN A PATIENT'S THROAT.

"Two of a trade can ne'er agree,
No proverb e'er was juster;
They've ta'en down Bishop Blaize, d'ye see,
And put up Bishop Bluster."

_Dr. Mansel, on Bishop Watson's head becoming
a signboard, in Cambridge, in lieu of the
ancient one of Bishop Blaize._--FACETIÆ
CANT., _p._ 7.

Sir Isaac Pennington and Sir Busick Harwood were cotemporary at Cambridge. The first as Regius Professor of Physic and Senior Fellow of St. John's College, the other was Professor of Anatomy and Fellow of Downing College. Both were eminent in their way, but seldom _agreed_, and held each other's abilities pretty _cheap_, some say in sovereign contempt. Sir Busick was once called in by the friends of a patient that had been under Sir Isaac's care, but had obtained small relief, anxious to hear his opinion of the malady. Not approving of the treatment pursued, he inquired "who was the physician in attendance," and on being told, exclaimed--"He! If he were to descend into a patient's stomach with a _candle and lantern_, he would not have been able to name the complaint!"

THIS DIFFERENCE OF OPINION

Was hit off, it is supposed, not by Dean Swift or wicked Will Whiston, but by Bishop Mansel, as follows:--

Sir Isaac,
Sir Busick;
Sir Busick,
Sir Isaac;
'Twould make you and I sick
To taste their physick.

Another, perhaps the same Cambridge wag, penned the following quaternion on Sir Isaac, which appeared under the title of

AN EPIGRAM ON A PETIT-MAITRE PHYSICIAN.

When Pennington for female ills indites,
Studying alone not what, but how he writes,
The ladies, as his graceful form they scan,
Cry, with ill-omen'd rapture, "_killing man_!"

But Sir Isaac, too, was a wit, and chanced on a time to be one of a Cambridge party, amongst whom was a rich old fellow, an invalid, who was too mean to buy an opinion on his case, and thought it a good opportunity to _worm_ one out of Sir Isaac _gratis_. He accordingly seized the opportunity for reciting the whole catalogue of his _ills_, ending with, "what would you advise me to take, my dear Sir Isaac?" "I should recommend you _to take advice_," was the reply.

* * * * *

PORSON,

Whose very name conjures up the spirits of ten thousand wits, holding both sides, over a copus of Trinity ale and a classical pun, would not only frequently "steal a few hours from the night," but see out both lights and liquids, and seem none the worse for the carouse. He had one night risen for the purpose of reaching his hat from a peg to depart, after having finished the port, sherry, gin-store, &c., when he espied a can of _beer_, says Dyer, (surely it must have been _audit_,) in a corner. Restoring his hat to its resting place, he reseated himself with the following happy travestie of the old nursery lines--

"When wine is gone, and ale is spent,
Then small beer is most excellent."

It was no uncommon thing for his _gyp_ to enter his room with Phoebus, and find him still _en robe_, with no other companions but a Homer, Æschylus, Plato, and a dozen or two other old Grecians surrounding an empty bottle, or what his late Royal Highness the Duke of York would have styled "a marine," _id est_ "a good fellow, who had done his duty, and was ready to do it again." Upon his _gyp_ once peeping in before day light, and finding him still up, Porson answered his "_quod petis?_" (whether he wanted _candles_ or _liquor_,) with

[Greek: ou tode oud' allo.]

Scotticè--neither _Toddy_ nor _Tallow_.

At another time, when asked what he would drink? he replied?--"_aliquid_" (a liquid.)

He was once

BOASTING AT A CAMBRIDGE PARTY,

That he could pun upon anything, when he was challenged to do so upon the _Latin Gerunds_, and exclaimed, after a pause--

"When Dido found Æneas would not come.
She mourned in silence, and was _Di-do-dum(b)_."

BISHOP HEBER'S COLLEGE PUNS.

The late amiable, learned, and pious Bishop Heber was not above a pun in his day, notwithstanding Dr. Johnson's _anathema_, that a man who made a pun would pick a pocket. Among the _jeux des mots_ attributed to him are the following: he was one day dining with an Oxford party, comprises the élite of his day, and when the servant was in the act of removing the table-cloth from off the green table-covering, at the end of their meal, he exclaimed, in the words of Horace--

"Diffugere nives: redeunt jam gramina campis."

At another time he made one of a party of Oxonians, amongst whom was a gentleman of great rotundity of person, on which account he had acquired the _soubriquet_ of 'heavy-a--se;' and he was withal of very _somniferous_ habits, frequently dozing in the midst of a conversation that would have made the very glasses tingle with delight. He had fallen fast asleep during the time a mirth-moving subject was recited by one of the party, but woke up just at the close, when all save himself were "shaking fat sides," and on his begging to know the subject of their laughter, HEBER let fly at him in pure Horatian--

"Exsomnis stupet Evias."

The mirth-loving Dr. Barnard, late Provost of Eton, was cotemporary, at Cambridge, with

A WORTHY OF THE SAME SCHOOL,

Who, then a student of St. John's College, used to frequent the same parties that Barnard did, who was of King's. Barnard used to taunt him with his stupidity; "and," said Judge Hardinge, who records the anecdote, "he one day half killed Barnard with laughter, who had been taunting him, as usual, with the simplicity of the following excuse and remonstrance: You are always running your rigs upon me and calling me 'stupid fellow;' and it is very cruel, now, that's what it is; for you don't consider that _a broad-wheeled wagon went over my head when I was ten years old_." And here I must remark upon the injustice of persons reflecting upon the English Universities, as their enemies often do, because every man who succeeds in getting a degree does not turn out a _Porson_ or a _Newton_. I knew one Cantab, a Caius man, to whom writing a letter to his friends was such an effort, that he used to get his medical attendant to give him an _ægrotat_ (put him on the sick list,) and, besides,

KEEP HIS DOOR SPORTED FOR A WEEK,

till the momentous task was accomplished. And two Oxonians were of late

PLUCKED AT THEIR DIVINITY EXAMINATION,

Because one being asked, "Who was the _Mediator_, between God and man?" answered, "_The Archbishop of Canterbury_." The other being questioned as to "why our Saviour sat on the right hand of God?" replied, "_Because the Holy Ghost sat on the left_."

COMPLIMENT TO THE MEN OF EXETER COLLEGE, OXON.

"The men of Exeter College, Oxon," says Fuller, in his Church History, "consisted chiefly of Cornish and Devonshire men, the gentry of which latter, Queen Elizabeth used to say, are courtiers by birth. And as these western men do bear away the bell for might and sleight in wrestling, so the scholars here have always acquitted themselves with credit in _Palæstra literaria_."

And writing of this society reminds me that

HIS GRACE OF WELLINGTON

Is a living example of the fact, that it does not require great learning to make a great general; nor is great learning always necessary to complete the character of the head of a college. The late Rector of Exeter College, Dr. Cole, raised that society, by his prudent management, from the very _reduced_ rank in which he found it amongst the other foundations of Oxford, to a flourishing and high reputation for good scholarship. Yet he is said one day to have complimented a student at collections, by saying, after the gentleman had construed his portion of Sophocles, "Sir, you have construed your _Livy_ very well." He nevertheless redeemed his credit by one day _posing_ a student, during his divinity examination, with asking him, in vain, "_What Christmas day was?_" Another Don of the same college, once asking a student of the society some divinity question, which he was equally at a loss for an answer, he exclaimed--"Good God, sir, you the son of a clergyman, and not answer such a question as that?" Aristotle was of opinion that knowledge _could only be acquired_, but our tutor seems to have thought, like the opponents of Aristotle, that a _son of a parson_ ought to be _born to it_.

ANOTHER OXONIAN WAS POSED,

Whom I knew, yet was by no means deficient in scholastic learning, and withal a great wag. He was asked, at the divinity examination, how many sacraments there were. This happened at the time that the _Catholic question_ was in the high road to the House of Lords, under the auspices of the Duke of Wellington, and he had been _cramming_ his _upper story_ with abundance of _Catholic Faith_ from the writings of _Faber_, _Gandolphy_, and the _Bishops of Durham and Exeter_. "How many sacraments are there, sir?" repeated the Examiner (of course referring to the Church of England.) The student _paused on_, and the question was repeated a second time; "Why--a--suppose--we--a--say half a dozen," was the reply. It is needless to add he was _plucked_. The following

LAPSUS GRAMMATICÆ

Is attributed to a certain D.D. of Exeter, who, having undertaken to lionize one of the foreign princes of the many that accompanied the late king and the sovereigns of Russia and Prussia to Oxford, in 1814, a difficulty arose between them as to their medium of communication; the prince being ignorant of the English language, and the doctor no less so with respect to modern foreign languages. In this dilemma the latter proposed an interchange of ideas by means of the fingers, in the following unique address:--"Intelligisne colloquium _cum digitalibus tuis?_"

It would be somewhat awkward for certain alumni if his Grace of Wellington should issue an imperative decree, as Chancellor,

THAT THE LATIN TONGUE BE USED,

(As Wood says, in his annals, the famous Archbishop Bancroft did, on being raised to the dignity of Chancellor of Oxford in 1608,) "By the students in their halls and colleges, whereby," said his Grace, "the young as well as the old may be inured to a ready and familiar delivery of their minds in that language, whereof there was now so much use both in studies and common conversation; for it was now observed (and so it may in these present times, adds Wood,) that it was a great blemish to the learned men of this nation, that they being complete in all good knowledge, yet they were not able promptly and aptly to express themselves in Latin, but with hesitation and circumlocution, which ariseth only from disuse."

EFFECT OF HABIT.

Dr. Fothergill, when Provost of Queen's College, Oxford, was a singular as well as a learned man, and would not have been seen abroad minus his wig and gown for a dukedom. One night a fire broke out in the lodge, which spread with such rapidity, that it was with difficulty Mrs. F. and family escaped the fury of the flames; and this she no sooner did than, naturally enough, the question was, "Where is the Doctor?" No Doctor was to be found; and the cry was he had probably perished in the flames. All was bustle, and consternation, and tears, till suddenly, to the delight of all, he emerged from the burning pile, full-dressed, as usual, his wig something the worse for being nearly 'done to a turn;' but he deemed it indecorous for him to appear otherwise, though he stayed to _robe_ at the risk of his life.

* * * * *

THE CONCUSSION.

The living Cambridge worthy, William Sydney Walker, M.A. (who at the age of sixteen wrote the successful tragedy of Wallace, and recently vacated his fellowship at Trinity College "for conscience-sake,") walking hastily round the corner of a street in Cambridge, in his peculiarly near-sighted _sidling_ hasty manner, he suddenly came in contact with the _blind_ muffin-man who daily perambulates the town. The concussion threw both upon their haunches. "Don't you _see_ I'm blind?" exclaimed the muffin-man, in great wrath. "How should I," rejoined the learned wag, "when I'm blind too."

* * * * *

COMIC PICTURE OF THE ELECTION OF A PROVOST OF KING'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

Upon the death of a provost of King's College, Cambridge, the fellows are obliged, according to their statutes, to be shut up in their celebrated chapel till they have agreed upon the election of a successor, a custom not unlike that to which the cardinals are subject at Rome, upon the death of a pope, where not uncommonly some half dozen are brought out dead before an election takes place. "The following is a comic picture of an election," says Judge Hardinge, in Nichols's Illustrations of Literature, from the pen of Daniel Wray, Esq. dated from _Cambridge_, the 19th of January, 1743. "The election of a provost of King's is over--_Dr. George_ is the man. The fellows went into chapel on Monday, before noon in the morning, as the statute directs. After prayers and sacrament, they began to vote:--22 for _George_; 16 for _Thackery_; 10 for _Chapman_. Thus they continued, scrutinizing and walking about, eating and sleeping; some of them smoking. Still the same numbers for each candidate, till yesterday about noon (for they held that in the forty-eight hours allowed for the election no adjournment could be made,) when the Tories, _Chapman's_ friends, refusing absolutely to concur with either of the other parties, _Thackery's_ votes went over to _George_ by agreement, and he was declared. A friend of mine, a curious fellow, tells me he took a survey of his brothers at two o'clock in the morning, and that never was a more curious or a more diverting spectacle: some wrapped in blankets, erect in their stalls like mummies; others asleep on cushions, like so many _Gothic_ tombs. Here a red cap over a wig, there a face lost in the cape of a rug; one blowing a chafing-dish with a surplice-sleeve; another warming a little negus, or sipping _Coke upon Littleton_, _i. e._ tent and brandy. Thus did they combat the cold of that frosty night, which has not killed any one of them, to my infinite surprise." One of the fellows of King's engaged in this election was Mr. C. Pratt, afterwards Lord High Chancellor of England, and father of the present Marquis of Camden, who, writing to his amiable and learned friend and brother Etonian and Kingsman, Dr. Sneyd Davies, archdeacon of Derby, &c. in the January of the above year, says, "Dear Sneyd we are all busy in the choice of a provost. _George_ and _Thackery_ are the candidates. _George_ has all the power and weight of the Court interest, but I am for _Thackery_, so that I am at _present a patriot_, and vehemently declaim against all unstatutable influence. The College are so divided, that your friends the _Tories_ may turn the balance if they will; but, if they should either absent themselves or nominate a third man, _Chapman_, for example, _Thackery_ will be discomfited. Why are not _you_ a doctor? We could choose you against all opposition. However, I insist upon it, that you shall qualify yourself against the next vacancy, for since you will not come to _London_, and wear lawn sleeves, you may stay where you are, and be provost,"--which he did not live to be, though he did take his D.D.

* * * * *

SIR, DOMINUS, MAGISTRI, SIR GREENE.

A writer in an early volume of the Gentleman's Magazine has stated, that "the Christian name is never used in the university with the addition of _Sir_, but the surname only." Cole says, in reply, "This is certainly so at Cambridge. Yet when Bachelors of Arts get into the country, it is quite the reverse; for then, whether curates, chaplains, vicars, or rectors, they are constantly styled _Sir_, or _Dominus_, prefixed to both their names, to distinguish them from Masters of Arts, or _Magistri_. This may be seen," he says, "in innumerable instances in the lists of incumbents in New Court, &c." And, he adds, addressing himself to that illustrious character, _Sylvanus Urban_, "I could produce a thousand others from the wills, institutions, &c. in the diocese of Ely, throughout the whole reign of Henry VIII. and for many years after, till the title was abandoned, and are never called Sir Evans, or Sir Martext, as in the university they would be, according to your correspondent's opinion, but invariably Sir Hugh Evans and Sir Oliver Martext, &c. The subject," adds this pleasant chronicler, "'seria ludo,' puts me in mind of a very pleasant story, much talked of when I was first admitted of the university, which I know to be fact, as I since heard Mr. Greene, the dean of Salisbury, mention it. The dean was at that time only Bachelor of Arts, and Fellow of Bene't College, where Bishop Mawson was master, and then, I think, Bishop of Llandaff, who, being one day at Court, seeing Mr. Greene come into the drawing-room, immediately accosted him, pretty loud, in this manner, _How do you do, Sir Greene? When did you leave College, Sir Greene?_ Mr. Greene was quite astonished, and the company present much more so, as not comprehending the meaning of the salutation or title, till Mr. Greene explained it, and also informed them," observes Cole, with his accustomed fulness of information, "of the worthy good bishop's absences."

* * * * *

HUSBANDS MAY BEAT THEIR WIVES.

Fuller relates in his Abel Redivivus, that the celebrated President of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, Dr. John Rainolds, the contemporary of Jewel and Usher, had a controversy with one William Gager, a student of Christ-Church, who contended for the lawfulness of stage-plays; and the same Gager, he adds, maintained, _horresco referens!_ in a public act in the university, that "it was lawful for husbands to beat their wives."

* * * * *

ANOTHER ATTACK ON THE LADIES

Is contained in Antony Wood's "angry account" of the alterations made in Merton College, of which he was a fellow, during the wardenship of Sir Thomas Clayton, whose lady, says Wood, "did put the college to unnecessary charges and very frivolous expenses, among which were a very large looking-glass, for her to see her ugly face, and body to the middle, * * * * * which was brought in Hilary terme, 1674, and cost, as the bursar told me, above 10_£._; a bedstead and bedding, worth 40_£._, must also be bought, because the former bedstead and bedding was too short for him (he being a tall man,) so perhaps when a _short_ warden comes, a short bed must be bought." There were also other

EXTRAORDINARY DOINGS AT MERTON.

When the Vandals of Parliamentary visiters, in Cromwell's time, perpetrated their spoliations at Oxford, one of them, Sir Nathaniel Brent, says Wood, actually "took down the rich hangings at the altar of the chapel, and ornamented his bedchamber with them."

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DIGGING YOUR GRAVES WITH YOUR TEETH.

The late vice-master of Trinity College, Cambridge, the Rev. William Hodson, B.D., and the late Regius Professor of Hebrew, the Rev. William Collier, B.D., who had also been tutor of Trinity College, were both skilled in the science of music, and constant visiters at the quartett parties of Mr. Sharp, of Green Street, Cambridge, organist of St. John's College. The former happened one evening to enter Mr. Sharp's _sanctum sanctorum_, rather later than usual, and found the two latter just in the act of discussing a brace of roast ducks, with a bowl of punch in the background. He was pressed to join them. "No, no, gentlemen," was his reply, "give me a _glass of water and a crust_. You know not what you are doing. You are _digging your graves with your teeth_." Both gentlemen, however, out-lived him.

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DR. TORKINGTON'S GRATITUDE TO HIS HORSE.

The late master of Clare Hall, Cambridge, Dr. Torkington, was one evening stopped by a footpad or pads, in the neighbourhood of Cambridge, when riding at an humble pace on his old Rosinante, which had borne him through many a long year. Both horse and master were startled by the awful tones in which the words, "Stand, and deliver!" were uttered, to say nothing of the flourish of a shillelah, or something worse, and an unsuccessful attempt to _grab_ the rein. The horse, declining acquiescence, set off at a good round pace, and thus saved his master; an act for which the old doctor was so grateful, that he never suffered it to be rode again, but had it placed in a paddock, facing his lodge, on the banks of the Cam, where, with a plentiful supply of food, and his own daily attentions, it lingered out the remnant of life, and "liv'd at home at ease."

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SAY JOHN SHARP IS A ROGUE.

At the time the celebrated Archbishop Sharp was at Oxford, it was the custom in that University, as likewise in Cambridge, for students to have a _chum_ or companion, who not only shared the sitting-room with each other, but the bed also; and a writer, speaking of the University of Cambridge, says, one of the colleges was at one period so full, that when writing a letter, the students were obliged to hold their hand over it, to prevent its contents being seen. Archbishop Sharp, when an Oxford Scholar, was awoke in the night by his _chum_ lying by his side, who told him he had just dreamed a most extraordinary dream; which was, that he (Sharp) would be an Archbishop of York. After some time, he again awoke him, and said he had dreamt the same, and was well assured he would arrive at that dignity. Sharp, extremely angry at being thus disturbed, told him if he awoke him any more, he would send him out of bed. However, his chum, again dreaming the same, ventured to awake him; on which Sharp became much enraged; but his bed-fellow telling him, if he had again the same dream he would not annoy him any more, if he would faithfully promise him, should he ever become archbishop, to give him a good rectory, which he named. "Well, well," said Sharp, "you silly fellow, go to sleep; and if your dream, which is very unlikely, should come true, I promise you the living." "By that time," said his chum, "you will have forgot me and your promise." "No, no," says Sharp, "that I shall not; but, if I do not remember you, and refuse you the living, then say _John Sharp is a rogue_." After Dr. Sharp had been archbishop some time, his old friend (his chum) applied to him (on the said rectory being vacant,) and, after much difficulty, got admitted to his presence, having been informed by the servant, that the archbishop was particularly engaged with a gentleman relative to the same rectory for which he was going to apply. The archbishop was told there was a clergyman who was extremely importunate to see him, and would take no denial. His Grace, extremely angry, ordered him to be admitted, and requested to know why he had so rudely almost forced himself into his presence. "I come," says he, "my Lord, to claim an old promise, the rectory of ----." "I do not remember, sir, ever to have seen you before; how, then, could I have promised you the rectory, which I have just presented to this gentleman?" "Then," says his old chum, "_John Sharp is a rogue_!" The circumstance was instantly roused in the mind of the archbishop, and the result was, he provided liberally for his dreaming chum in the Church.

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"I SAID AS HOW YOU'D SEE."

"In the year 1821," says Parke, in his Musical Memoirs, "I occasionally dined with a pupil of mine, Mr. Knight, who had lately left college. This young man (who played the most difficult pieces on the flute admirably) and his brother Cantabs, when they met, were very fond of relating the wild tricks for which the students of the University of Cambridge are celebrated. The following relation of one will convey some idea," he says, "of their general eccentricity:--A farmer, who resided at a considerable distance from Cambridge, but who had, nevertheless, heard of the excesses committed by the students, having particular business in the before-mentioned seat of the Muses, together with a strong aversion to entering it, took his seat on the roof of the coach, and, being engrossed with an idea of danger, said to the coachman, who was a man of few words, 'I'ze been towld that the young gentlemen at Cambridge be wild chaps.' 'You'll see,' replied the coachman; 'and,' added the farmer, 'that it be hardly safe to be among 'em.' 'You'll see,' again replied the coachman. During the journey the farmer put several other interrogatories to the coachman, which was answered, as before, with 'You'll see!' When they had arrived in the High Street of Cambridge, Mr. Knight had a party of young men at his lodgings, who were sitting in the first floor, with the windows all open, and a large China bowl full of punch before them, which they had just broached. The noise made by their singing and laughing, attracting the notice and exciting the fears of the farmer, he again, addressing his taciturn friend, the coachman, (whilst passing close under the window,) said with great anxiety, 'Are we all safe, think ye?' when, before the master of the whip had time to utter his favourite monosyllables, 'You'll see,' bang came down, on the top of the coach, bowl, punch, glasses, &c. to the amazement and terror of the farmer, who was steeped in his own favourite potation. 'There,' said coachee (who had escaped a wetting,) 'I said as how you'd see!'"

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