I recollect once being invited, with another Cantab, to _bitch_ (as
they say) with a scholar of Bene't Coll. and arrived there at the hour
named to find the door _sported_ and our host out. We resolved,
however, not to be _floored_ by a _quiz_, and having gained admission
to his rooms per the window, we put a bold face upon matters, went
straight to the buttery, and ordered "_coffee and muffins for two_,"
in his name. They came of course; and having feasted to our heart's
content, we finished our revenge by hunting up all the _tallow_ we
could lay hands on, which we cut up to increase the number, and
therewith illuminated his rooms and beat a retreat as quick as
possible. The College was soon in an uproar to learn the cause for
such a display, and we had the pleasure of witnessing our _wag's_
chagrin thereat from a nook in the court. This anecdote reminds me of
one told of himself and the late learned physician, Dr. Battie, by Dr.
Morell. They were contemporary at Eton, and afterwards went to King's
College, Cambridge, together. Dr. Battie's mother was his _jackall_
wherever he went, and, says Dr. Morell, she kindly recommended me and
other scholars to a chandler at 4_s._ 6_d._ per dozen. But the candles
proved dear even at that rate, and we resolved to vent our
disappointment upon her son. We, accordingly, got access to Battie's
room, locked him out, and all the candles we could find in his box we
lighted and stuck up round the room! and, whilst I thrummed on the
spinnet, the rest danced round me in their shirts. Upon Battie's
coming, and finding what we were at, he "fell to storming and
swearing," says the Doctor, "till the old Vice-Provost, Dr. Willymott,
called out from above, 'Who is