Many humorous stories are told of the absurd height to which the
observance of _etiquette_ has been carried at both Oxford and
Cambridge. In my time, you might meet _a good fellow_ at a _wine
party_, crack your joke with him, hob-nob, &c., but, unless
introduced, you would have been stared at with the most vacant
wonderment if you attempted to recognise him next day. It is told of
men of both universities, that a scholar walking on the banks of the
Isis, or Cam, fell into the river, and was in the act of drowning,
when another son of _Alma-Mater_ came up, and observing his perilous
situation, exclaimed, "What a pity it is I have not the honour of
knowing the gentleman, that I might save him!" One version of the
story runs, that the said scholars met by accident on the banks of the
Nile or Ganges, I forget which, when the catastrophe took place; we
may, therefore, very easily imagine the presence of either a crocodile
or an alligator to complete the group.