_A Leaf from the Reminiscences of a Collegian_.
(_For the Mirror_.)
----He was but a poor undergraduate; not, indeed, one of lowest grade,
but still too much lacking pecuniary supplies to render him an
"eligible match." Julia, too, though pretty, was portionless; and the
world, which always kindly interests itself in such affairs, said,
they had no business whatever to become attached to each other; but
then, such attachments and the world, never did, and never will agree;
and _I_, from fatal experience, assert that what people impertinently
call "falling in love," is a thing that _cannot_ be helped; _I_, at
least, never could help it. The regard of Millington and Julia was of
a very peculiar nature; it was a morsel of platonism, which is rather
too curious to pass unrecorded; for as far as I have been able, upon
the most minute investigation to ascertain, they never spoke to each
other during the period of their tender acquaintance. No; they were
not dumb, but lacking a mutual friend to give them an introduction;
their regard for decorum and etiquette was too great to permit them to
speak otherwise than with their eyes. Millington had kept three terms,
when I arrived at ---- College, a shy and gawky freshman; we had been
previously acquainted, and he, pitying perhaps my youth and
inexperience, patronized his playmate, and I became his chum. For some
time I was at a loss to account for sundry fluctuations in Henry's
disposition and manners. He shunned society and would neither accept
invitations to wine and supper parties in other men's rooms, nor give
such in his own; nevertheless his person seemed to have become an
object of the tenderest regard; never was he so contented as when
rambling through the streets and walks, without his gown, in a new and
well cut suit; whilst in order eternally to display his figure to the
best advantage, he was content to endure as heavy an infliction of
fines and impositions, as the heads of his college could lay upon his
shoulders. He was ruined for a reading-man. About this period he also
had a perfect mania for flowers; observing which, and fancying I might
gratify my friend by such a mark of attention, I one day went to his
rooms with a large bouquet in either hand. He was not at home; but
having carelessly enough forgotten to lock his door, I commenced, _con
amore_, (anticipating the agreeable surprise which I should afford
him) to fill his vases with fresh, bright, and delicious summer
flowers, in lieu of the very mummies of their race by which they were
occupied. My work was in progress when Millington returned, but, oh!
good heavens! the rage, the profane, diabolical, incomprehensible rage
into which he burst! I shall never forget. Away went my beautiful, my
fragrant flowers, into the court, and seizing upon the remnant of the
mummies, as yet untouched by my sacrilegious fingers, he tossed them
into a drawer, double locked it, and ordered me out of the room.
Dreading a kick, I was off at his word; but had not proceeded half way
down stairs, when a hand from the rear, roughly grasped mine, and a
voice, in a wild and hurried manner, asked pardon for "intemperance."
I should have called it madness. We were again firm allies; but I
resolved to fathom, if possible, the mystery of the flowers. I now
observed, with surprise, that Millington never quitted his rooms
without a flower in his hand, or _boutonnière_; which flower, upon his
return, appeared to have been either lost, or metamorphosed into,
sometimes, one of another description; sometimes into a nosegay. Very
strange indeed, thought I; and began to have my suspicions that in all
this might be traced "fair woman's visitings." Yes, Millington must
decidedly have fallen in love. He was never in chapel, never in hall,
never in college, never at lectures, and never at parties; he was in
love, that was certain; but with whom? He knew none of the resident
gentry of ----, and he was far too proud to involve himself in "an
affair" with a girl of inferior rank. Many men did so; but Millington
despised them for it. Accidentally I discovered that he adored Julia,
the young, sweet daughter of an undoubted gentleman, who was not yet
"come out." She was a lively, pretty brunette, with brownest curling
hair, only fifteen; and to this day, I believe, knows not the name of
her lover. From an attic window of a five storied house, this fond and
beautiful girl contrived, sometimes, to shower upon the head of her
devoted admirer sweet flowers, and sometimes this paragon of pairs
meeting each other in the walks, silently effected an interchange of
the buds and blossoms, with which they always took care to be
provided. Several weeks passed thus, Henry and Julia seeing each other
every day; but long vacation would arrive; and on the evening
preceding his departure from ----, the lovelorn student, twisting
round the stem of a spicy carnation, a leaf which he had torn from his
pocket book, thus conveyed, with his farewell to Julia, an intimation
that he designed upon his return to college next term, to effect an
introduction to her family. Julia's delight may easily be conceived. I
remained in college for the vacation to read, and had shortly the
pleasure of informing Millington that I should be able, upon his
return, to afford him the introduction which he had so much at heart,
having made the acquaintance of Julia and her family. Two months
elapsed ere Millington deigned to notice my letter. His answer to it
was expressed in these terms:--
"Freddy--I'm married to a proper vixen, I fancy; but to twenty
thousand pounds. Ay, my boy, there it is--no doing in this world
without the needful, and I'm not the ass to fight shy of such a
windfall. As for Julia, hang her. By Jove, what an escape--wasn't it?
Name her never again, and should she cry for me, give her a sugar
plum--a kiss--a gingerbread husband, or yourself, as you please. I am
not so fond of milk and water, and bread and butter, I can assure her.
"Ever truly yours,
Henry Owen Millington.
"P.S. Capital shooting hereabout--can't you slip over for a few days?"
Poor Julia! I certainly am not clear that I shall not marry her
myself; but as for that scoundrel Millington, he had better take care
how he comes in my way--that's all.