The cunning gipsy saw this, and broadly hinted that another piece of

silver placed upon the junction of two cross lines in the <VG269.JPG>

pretty gentleman's right palm would materially propitiate the stars,

and assist in the happy solution of his fortune. When the hint had

been taken she pursued her romantic narrative. Her elaborate but

discursive summing-up comprehended the triumph of Mr. Verdant Green,

the defeat of the dark man, the marriage of the former to the

pomegranate-hearted young lady, a yellow carriage and four white

horses with long tails, and, last but certainly not least, a family

of twelve children: at which childish termination Miss Patty laughed,

and asked our hero if that was the fate that he had dreaded?

Her sketch being concluded, she remunerated her models so

munificently as to draw down upon her head a rapid series of the most

wordy and incoherent blessings she had ever heard, under cover of

which she effected her escape, and proceeded with her companion to

rejoin the others. They were not very far in advance. The gipsies

had beset them at divers points in their progress, and had made no

small number of them yield to their importunities to cross their

hands with silver. When the various members of the pic-nic party

afterwards came to compare notes as to the fortunes that had been

told them, it was discovered that a remarkable similarity pervaded

the fates of all, though their destinies were greatly influenced by

the amount expended in crossing the hand; and it was observable that

the number of children promised to bless the nuptial tie was also

regulated by a sliding-scale of payment - the largest payers being

rewarded with the assurance of the largest families. It was also

discovered that the description of the favoured lover was invariably

the verbal delineation of the lady or gentleman who chanced to be at

that time walking with the person whose fortune was being told - a

prophetic discrimination worthy of all praise, since it had the

pretty good security of being correct in more than one case, and in

the other cases there was the

[270 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

chance of the prophecy coming true, however improbable present events

would appear. Thus, Miss Eleonora Morkin received, and was perfectly

satisfied with, a description of Mr. Poletiss; while Miss Letitia

Jane Morkin was made supremely happy with a promise of a

similarly-described gentleman; until the two sisters had compared

notes, when they discovered that the same husband had been promised

to both of them - which by no means improved their sororal amiability.

As Verdant walked up the hill with Miss Patty, he thought very

seriously on his feelings towards her, and pondered what might be the

nature of her feelings in regard to him. He believed that she was

engaged to her cousin Frederick. All her little looks, and acts, and

words to himself, he could construe as the mere tokens of the

friendship of a warm-hearted girl. If she was inclined to a little

flirtation, there was then an additional reason for her notice of

him. Then he thought that she was of far too noble a disposition to

lead him on to a love which she could not, or might not wish to,

return; and that she would not have said and done many little things

that he fondly recalled, unless she had chosen to show him that he

was dearer to her than a mere friend. Having ascended to the heights

of happiness by this thought, Verdant immediately plunged from thence

into the depths of misery, by calling to mind various other little

things that she had said and done in connection with her cousin; and

he again forced himself into the conviction that in Frederick Delaval

he had a rival, and, what was more, a successful one. He determined,

before the day was over, to end his tortures of suspense by putting

to Miss Patty the plain question whether or no she was engaged to her

cousin, and to trust to her kindness to forgive the question if it

was an impertinent one. He was unable to do this for the present,

partly from lack of courage, and partly from the too close

neighbourhood of others of the party; but he concocted several

sentences that seemed to him to be admirably adapted to bring about

the desired result.

"How abstracted you are!" said Miss Patty to him rather abruptly.

"Why don't you make yourself agreeable? For the last three minutes

you have not taken your eyes off Kitty." (She was walking just before

them, with her cousin Frederick.) "What were you thinking about?"

Perhaps it was that he was suddenly roused from deep thought, and had

no time to frame an evasive reply; but at any rate Mr. Verdant Green

answered, "I was thinking that Mr. Delaval had proposed, and had been

accepted." And then he was frightened at what he had said; for Miss

Patty looked confused and surprised. "I see that it is so," he

sighed, and his heart sank within him.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 271]

"How did you find it out?" she replied. "It is a secret for the

present; and we do not wish any one to know of it."

"My dear Patty," said Frederick Delaval, who had waited for them to

come up, "wherever have you been? We thought the gipsies had stolen

you. I am dying to tell you my fortune. I was with Miss Maxwell at

the time, and the old woman described her to me as my future wife.

The fortune-teller was slightly on the wrong tack, wasn't she?" So

Frederick Delaval and the Misses Honeywood laughed; and Mr. Verdant

Green also laughed in a very savage manner; and they all seemed to

think it a very capital joke, and walked on together in very capital

spirits.

"My last hope is gone!" thought Verdant. "I have now heard my fate

from her own lips."

CHAPTER VIII.

MR. VERDANT GREEN CROSSES THE RUBICON.

<VG271.JPG> THE pic-nic dinner was laid near to the brow of the hill of

Ros Castle, on the shady side of the park wall. In this cool

retreat, with the thick summer foliage to screen them from the hot

sun, they could feast undisturbed either by the Wild Cattle or the

noon-day glare, and drink in draughts of beauty from the wide-spread

landscape before them.

The hill on which they were seated was broken up into the most

picturesque undulations; here, the rock cropped out from the mossy

turf; there, the blaeberries (the bilberries of more southern

counties) clustered in myrtle-like bushes. The intrenched hill

sloped down to a rich plain, spreading out for many miles, traversed

by the great north road, and dotted over with hamlets. Then came a

brown belt of sand, and a broken white line of breakers; and then the

sea, flecked with crested waves, and sails that glimmered in the

dreamy distance. Holy Island was also in sight, together with the

rugged Castle of Bamborough, and the picturesque groups of the Staple

and the Farn Islands, covered with sea-birds, and circled with pearls

of foam. The immediate foreground presented a very cheering pros-

[272 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

pect to hungry folks. The snowy table-cloth - held down upon the

grass by fragments of rock against the surprise of high winds - was

dappled over with loins of lamb, and lobster salads, and pigeon-pies,

and veal cakes, and grouse, and game, and ducks, and cold fowls, and

ruddy hams, and helpless tongues, and cool cucumbers, and pickled

salmon, and roast-beef of old England, and oyster patties, and

venison pasties, and all sorts of pastries, and jellies, and

custards, and ice: to say nothing of piles of peaches, and

nectarines, and grapes, and melons, and pines. Everything had been

remembered - even the salt, and the knives and forks, which are

usually forgotten at ~alfresco~ entertainments. All this was very

cheering, and suggestive of enjoyment and creature comforts. Wines

and humbler liquids stood around; and, for the especial delectation

of the ladies, a goodly supply of champagne lay cooling itself in

some ice-pails, under the tilt of the cart that had brought it. This

cart-tilt, draped over with loose sacking, formed a very good

imitation of a gipsy tent, that did not in the least detract from the

rusticity of the scene, more especially as close behind it was

burning a gipsy fire, surmounted by a triple gibbet, on which hung a

kettle, melodious even then, and singing through its swan-like neck

an intimation of its readiness to aid, at a moment's notice, in the

manufacture of whisky-toddy.

The dinner was a very merry affair. The gentlemen vied with the

servants in attending to the wants of the ladies, and <VG272.JPG>

were assiduous in the duties of cutting and carving; while the sharp

popping of the champagne, and the heavier artillery of the pale ale

and porter bottles, made a pleasant fusillade. Little Mr. Bouncer

was especially deserving of notice. He sat with his legs in the

shape of the letter V inverted, his legs being forced to retain their

position from the fact of three dishes of various dimensions being

arranged between them in a diminuendo passage. These three dishes he

vigorously attacked, not only on his own account, but also on behalf

of his neighbours, more especially Miss Fanny Green, who reclined by

his side in an oriental posture, and made a table of her lap. The

disposition of the rest of

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 273]

the ~dramatis personae~ was also noticeable, as also their positions

- their sitting ~a la~ Turk or tailor, and their ~degages~ attitudes

and costumes. Charles Larkyns had got by Mary Green; Mr. Poletiss

was placed, sandwich-like, between the two Miss Morkins, who were

both making love to him at once; Frederick Delaval was sitting in a

similar fashion between the two Miss Honeywoods, who were not,

however, both making love to him at once; and on the other side of

Miss Patty was Mr. Verdant Green. The infatuated young man could not

drag himself away from his conqueror. Although, from her own

confession, he had learnt what he had many times suspected - that

Frederick Delaval had proposed and had been accepted - yet he still

felt a pleasure in burning his wings and fluttering round his light

of love. "An affection of the heart cannot be cured at a moment's

notice," thought Verdant; "to-morrow I will endeavour to begin the

task of forgetting - to-day, remembrance is too recent; besides,

every one is expected to enjoy himself at a pic-nic, and I must

appear to do the same."

But it did not seem as though Miss Patty had any intention of

allowing those in her immediate vicinity to betake themselves to the

dismals, or to the produce of wet-blankets, for she was in the very

highest spirits, and insisted, as it were, that those around her

should catch the contagion of her cheerfulness. And it accordingly

happened that Mr. Verdant Green seemed to be as merry as was old King

Cole, and laughed and talked as though black care was anywhere else

than between himself and Miss Patty Honeywood.

Close behind Miss Patty was the gipsy-tent-looking cart-tilt; and

when the dinner was over, and there was a slight change of places,

while the fragments were being cleared away and the dessert and wine

were being placed on the table - that is to say, the cloth - Miss

Patty, under pretence of escaping from a ray of sunshine that had

pierced the trees and found its way to her face, retreated a yard or

so, and crouched beneath the pseudo gipsy-tent. And what so natural

but that Mr. Verdant Green should also find the sun disagreeable, and

should follow his light of love, to burn his wings a little more, and

flutter round her fascinations? At any rate, whether natural or no,

Verdant also drew back a yard or so, and found himself half within

the cart-tilt, and very close to Miss Patty.

The pic-nic party were stretched at their ease upon the grass,

drinking wine, munching fruit, talking, laughing, and flirting, with

the blue sea before them and the bluer sky above them, when said the

squire in heroic strain, "Song alone is wanting to crown our feast!

Charles Larkyns, you have not only the face of a singer, but, as we

all know, you have the

[274 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

voice of one. I therefore call upon you to set our minstrels an

example; and, as a propitiatory measure, I beg to propose <VG274.JPG>

your health, with eulogistic thanks for the song you are about to

sing!" Which was unanimously seconded amid laughter and cheers; and

the pop of the champagne bottles gave Charles Larkyns the key-note

for his song. It was suited to the occasion (perhaps it was composed

for it?), being a paean for a pic-nic, and it stated (in chorus)-

"Then these aids to success

Should a pic-nic possess

For the cup of its joy to be brimming:

Three things there should shine

Fair, agreeable, and fine-

The Weather, the Wine, and the Women!"

A rule of pic-nics which, if properly worked out, could not fail to

answer.

Other songs followed; and Mr. Poletiss, being a young gentleman of a

meek appearance and still meeker voice, lyrically informed the

company that "Oh! he was a pirate bold, The scourge of the wide, wide

sea, With a murd'rous thirst for gold, And a life that was wild and

free!" And when Mr. Poletiss arrived at this point, he repeated the

last word two or three times over - just as if he had been King

George the Third visiting Whitbread's Brewery-

"Grains, grains!" said majesty, "to fill their crops?

Grains, grains! that comes from hops - yes, hops, hops, hops!"

So Mr. Poletiss sang, "And a life that was wild and free, free, free,

And a life that was wild and free." To this charming lyric there was

a chorus of, "Then hurrah for the pirate bold, And hurrah for the

rover wild, And hurrah for the yellow gold, And hurrah for the

ocean's child!" the mild enunciation of which highly moral and

appropriate chant appeared to give Mr. Poletiss great satisfaction,

as he turned his half-shut eyes to the sky, and fashioned his mouth

into a smile. Mr. Bouncer's love for a chorus was conspicuously

displayed on this occasion;

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 275]

and Miss Eleonora and Miss Letitia Jane Morkin added their feeble

trebles to the hurrahs with which Mr. Poletiss, in his George the

Third fashion, meekly hailed the advantages to be derived from a

pirate's career.

But what was Mr. Verdant Green doing all this time? The sunbeam had

pursued him, and proved so annoying that he had found it necessary to

withdraw altogether into the shade of the pseudo gipsy-tent. Miss

Patty Honeywood had made such room for him that she was entirely

hidden from the rest of the party by the rude drapery of the tent.

By the time that Mr. Poletiss had commenced his piratical song, Miss

Patty and Verdant were deep in a whispered conversation. It was she

who had started the conversation, and it was about the gipsy and her

fortune-telling.

Just when Mr. Poletiss had given his first imitation of King George,

and was mildly plunging into his hurrah chorus, Mr. Verdant Green -

whose timidity, fears, and depression of spirits had somewhat been

dispelled and alleviated by the allied powers of Miss Patty and the

champagne - was speaking thus: "And do you really think that she was

only inventing, and that the dark man she spoke of was a creature of

her own imagination?"

"Of course!" answered Miss Patty; "you surely don't believe that she

could have meant any one in particular, either in the gentleman's

case or in the lady's?"

"But, in the lady's, she evidently described ~you~."

"Very likely! just as she would have described any other young lady

who might have chanced to be with you: Miss Morkin, for example. The

gipsy knew her trade."

"Many true words are spoken in jest. Perhaps it was not altogether

idly that she spoke; perhaps I ~did~ care for the lady she described."

The sunbeam must surely have penetrated through the tent's coarse

covering, for both Miss Patty and Mr. Verdant Green were becoming

very hot - hotter even than they had been under the apple-tree in the

orchard. Mr. Poletiss was all this time giving his imitations of

George the Third, and lyrically expressing his opinion as to the

advantages to be derived from the profession of a pirate; and, as his

song was almost as long as "Chevy Chase," and mainly consisted of a

chorus, which was energetically led by Mr. Bouncer, there was noise

enough made to drown any whispered conversation in the pseudo

gipsy-tent.

"But," continued Verdant, "perhaps the lady she described did not

care for me, or she would not have given all her love to the dark

man."

"I think," faltered Miss Patty, "the gipsy seemed to say

[276 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

that the lady preferred the light man. But you do not believe what

she told you?"

"I would have done so a few days ago - if it had been repeated by

you."

"I scarcely know what you mean."

"Until to-day I had hoped. It seems that I have built my hopes on a

false foundation, and one word of yours has crumbled them into the

dust!"

This pretty sentence embodied an idea that he had stolen from his own

~Legend of the Fair Margaret~. He felt so much pride in his property

that, as Miss Patty looked slightly bewildered and remained

speechless, he reiterated the little quotation <VG276.JPG> about his

crumbling hopes. "Whatever can I have done," said the young lady,

with a smile, "to cause such a ruin?"

"It caused you no pain to utter the words," replied Verdant; "and why

should it? but, to me, they tolled the knell of my happiness." (This

was another quotation from his ~Legend.~)

"Then hurrah for the pirate bold. And hurrah for the rover wild!"

sang the meek Mr. Poletiss.

Miss Patty Honeywood began to suspect that Mr. Verdant Green had

taken too much champagne!

"What ~do~ you mean?" she said. "Whatever have I said or done to you

that you make use of such remarkable expressions?"

"And hurrah for the yellow gold, And hurrah for the ocean's child!"

chorussed Messrs. Poletiss, Bouncer, and Co.

Looking as sentimental as his spectacles would allow, Mr. Verdant

Green replied in verse -

" 'Hopes that once we've loved to cherish

May fade and droop, but never perish!'

as Shakespeare says." (Although he modestly attributed this

sentiment to the Swan of Avon, it was, nevertheless, another

quotation from his own ~Legend~.) "And it is my case. ~I~ cannot

forget the Past, though ~you~ may!"

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 277]

"Really you are as enigmatical as the Sphinx!" said Miss Patty, who

again thought of Mr. Verdant Green in connection with champagne.

"Pray condescend to speak more plainly, for I was never clever at

finding out riddles."

"And have you forgotten what you said to me, in reply to a question

that I asked you, as we came up the hill?"

"Yes, I have quite forgotten. I dare say I said many foolish things;

but what was the particular foolish thing that so dwells on your

mind?"

"If it is so soon forgotten, it is not worth repeating."

"Oh, it is! Pray gratify my curiosity. I am sorry my bad memory

should have given you any pain."

"It was not your bad memory, but your words."

"My bad words?"

"No, not bad; but words that shut out a bright future, and changed my

life to gloom." (The ~Legend~ again.)

Miss Patty looked more perplexed than ever; while Mr. Poletiss

politely filled up the gap of silence with an imitation of King

George the Third.

"I really do not know what you mean," said Miss Patty. "If I have

said or done anything that has caused you pain, I can assure you it

was quite unwittingly on my part, and I am very sorry for it; but, if

you will tell me what it was, perhaps I may be able to explain it

away, and disabuse your mind of a false impression."

"I am quite sure that you did not intend to pain me," replied

Verdant; "and I know that it was presumptuous in me to think as I

did. It was scarcely probable that you would feel as I felt; and I

ought to have made up my mind to it, and have borne my sufferings

with a patient heart." (The ~Legend~ again!) "And yet when the shock

~does~ come, it is very hard to be borne."

Miss Patty's bright eyes were dilated with wonder, and she again

thought of Mr. Verdant Green in connection with champagne. Mr.

Poletiss was still taking his pirate through all sorts of flats and

sharps, and chromatic imitations of King George.

"But, what ~is~ this shock?" asked Miss Patty. "Perhaps I can

relieve it; and I ought to do so if it came through my means."

"You cannot help me," said Verdant. "My suspicions were confirmed by

your words, and they have sealed my fate."

"But you have not yet told me what those words were, and I must

really insist upon knowing," said Miss Patty, who had begun to look

very seriously perplexed.

"And, can you have forgotten!" was the reply. "Do you not remember,

that, as we came up the hill, I put a certain

[278 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

question to you about Mr. Delaval having proposed and having been

accepted?"

"Yes! I remember it very well! And, what then?"

"And, what then!" echoed Mr. Verdant Green, in the greatest wonder at

the young lady's calmness; "what then! why, when you told me that he

~had~ been accepted, was not that sufficient for me to know? - to

know that all my love had been given to one who was another's, and

that all my hopes were blighted! was not this sufficient to crush me,

and to change the colour of my life?" And Verdant's face showed

that, though he might be quoting from his ~Legend~, he was yet

speaking from his heart.

"Oh! I little expected this!" faltered Miss Patty, in real grief; "I

little thought of this. Why did you not speak sooner to some one -

to me, for instance - and have spared yourself this misery? If you

had been earlier made acquainted with Frederick's attachment, you

might then have checked your own. I did not ever dream of this!" And

Miss Patty, who had turned pale, and trembled with agitation, could

not restrain a tear.

"It is very kind of you thus to feel for me!" said Verdant; "and all

I ask is, that you will still remain my friend."

"Indeed, I will. And I am sure Kitty will always wish to be the

same. She will be sadly grieved to hear of this; for, I can assure

you that she had no suspicion you were attached to her."

"Attached to HER!" cried Verdant, with vast surprise. "What ever do

you mean?"

"Have you not been telling me of your secret love for her?" answered

Miss Patty, who again turned her thoughts to the champagne.

"Love for ~her~? No! nothing of the kind."

"What! and not spoken about your grief when I told you that Frederick

Delaval had proposed to her, and had been accepted?"

"Proposed to ~her~?" cried Verdant, in a kind of dreamy swoon.

"Yes! to whom else do you suppose he would propose?"

"To ~you~!"

"To ME!"

"Yes, to you! Why, have you not been telling me that you were engaged

to him?"

"Telling you that ~I~ was engaged to Fred!" rejoined Miss Patty.

"Why, what could put such an idea into your head? Fred is engaged to

Kitty. You asked me if it was not so; and I told you, yes, but that

it was a secret at present. Why, then of whom were ~you~ talking?"

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 279]

"Of ~you~!"

"Of ~me~?"

"Yes, of you!" And the scales fell from the eyes of both, and they saw

their mutual mistake.

There was a silence, which Verdant was the first to break.

"It seems that love is really blind. I now perceive how we have been

playing at cross questions and crooked answers. When I asked you

about Mr. Delaval, my thoughts were wholly of you, and I spoke of

you, and not of your sister, as you imagined; and I fancied that you

answered not for your sister but for yourself. When I spoke of my

attachment, it did not refer to your sister, but to you."

"To me?" softly said Miss Patty, as a delicious tremor stole over

her. "To you, and to you alone," answered Verdant. The great

stumbling-block of his doubts was now removed, and his way lay clear

before him. Then, after a momentary pause to nerve his

determination, and without further prelude, or beating about the

bush, he said, "Patty - my dear Miss Honeywood - I love you! do you

love me?"

There it was at last! The dreaded question over which he had passed

so many hours of thought, was at length spoken. The elaborate

sentences that he had devised for its introduction, had all been

forgotten; and his artificial flowers of oratory had been exchanged

for those simpler blossoms of honesty and truth - "I love you - do

you love me?" He had imagined that he should put the question to her

when they were alone in some quiet room; or, better still, when they

were wandering together in some sequestered garden walk or shady

lane; and, now, here he had unexpectedly, and undesignedly, found his

opportunity at a pic-nic dinner, with half a hundred people close

beside him, and his ears assaulted with a songster's praises of

piracy and murder. Strange accompaniments to a declaration of the

tender passion! But, like others before him, he had found that there

was no such privacy as that of a crowd - the fear of interruption

probably adding a spur to determination, while the laughter and busy

talking of others assist to fill up awkward pauses of agitation in

the converse of the loving couple.

Despite the heat, Miss Patty's cheeks paled for a moment, as Verdant

put to her that question, "Do you love me?" Then a deep blush stole

over them, as she whispered "I do."

What need for more? what need for pressure of hands or lips, and vows

of love and constancy? What need even for the elder and more

desperate of the Miss Morkins to maliciously suggest that Mr.

Poletiss - who had concluded, amid a great display of approbation

(probably because it ~was~ concluded) his mild piratical chant, and

his imitations of King George the

[280 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

Third - should call upon Mr. Verdant Green, who, as she understood,

was a very good singer? "And, dear me! where could he have gone to,

when he was here just now, you know! and, good gracious! why there he

was, under the cart-tilt - and well, I never was so surprised - Miss

Martha Honeywood with him, flirting now, I dare say? shouldn't you

think so?"

No need for this stroke of generalship! No need for Miss Letitia

Jane Morkin to prompt Miss Fanny Green to bring her brother out of

his retirement. No need for Mr. Frederick Delaval to say "I thought

you were never going to slip from your moorings!" Or for little Mr.

Bouncer to cry, "Yoicks! unearthed at last!" No need for anything,

save the parental sanction to the newly-formed engagement. Mr.

Verdant Green had proposed, and had been accepted; and Miss Patty

Honeywood could exclaim with Schiller's heroine, "Ich habe gelebt und

geliebet! - I have lived, and have loved!"

CHAPTER IX.

MR. VERDANT GREEN ASKS PAPA.

<VG280.JPG> MISS MORKIN met with her reward before many hours. The

pic-nic party were on their way home, and had reached within a short

distance of the inn where their wagons had to be exchanged for

carriages. It has been mentioned that, among the difficulties of the

way, they had to drive through bridgeless brooks; and one of these

was not half-a-mile distant from the inn.

It happened that the mild Mr. Poletiss was seated at the tail end of

the wagon, next to the fair Miss Morkin, who was laying violent siege

to him, with a battery of words, if not of charms. If the position

of Mr. Poletiss, as to deliverance from his fair foe, was a difficult

one, his position, as to maintaining his seat during the violent

throes and tossings to and fro of the wagon, was even more difficult;

for Mr. Poletiss's mildness of voice was surpassed by his mildness of

manner, and he was far too timid to grasp at the side of the wagon by

placing his arm behind the fair Miss Morkin, lest it should be

supposed that he was assuming the privileged position of a partner in

a ~valse~. Mr. Poletiss, therefore, whenever they jolted through

ruts or brooks, held on to his hay hassock, and preserved his

equilibrium as best he could.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 281]

On the same side of the wagon, but at its upper and safer end, was

seated Mr. Bouncer, who was not slow to perceive that a very slight

~accident~ would destroy Mr. Poletiss's equilibrium; and the little

gentleman's fertile brain speedily concocted a plan, which he

forthwith communicated to Miss Fanny Green, who sat next to him. It

was this:- that when they were plunging through the brook, and every

one was swaying to and fro, and was thrown off their balance, Mr.

Bouncer should take advantage of the critical moment, and (by

accident, of course!) give Miss Fanny Green a heavy push; this would

drive her against her next neighbour, Miss Patty Honeywood; who, from

the recoil, would literally be precipitated into the arms of Mr.

Verdant Green, who would be pushed against Miss Letitia Jane Morkin,

who would be driven against her sister, who would be propelled

against Mr. Poletiss, and thus give him that ~coup de grace~, which,

as Mr. Bouncer hoped, would have the effect of quietly tumbling him

out of the wagon, and partially ducking him in the brook. "It won't

hurt him," said the little gentleman; "it'll do him good. The brook

ain't deep, and a bath will be pleasant such a day as this. He can

dry his clothes at the inn, and get some steaming toddy, if he's

afraid of catching cold. And it will be such a lark to see him in

the water. Perhaps Miss Morkin will take a header, and plunge in to

save him; and he will promise her his hand, and a medal from the

Humane Society! The wagon will be sure to give a heavy lurch as we

come up out of the brook, and what so natural as that we should all

be jolted, against each other?" It is not necessary to state whether

or no Miss Fanny Green seconded or opposed Mr. Bouncer's motion;

suffice it to say that it was carried out.

They had reached the brook. Miss Morkin was exclaiming, "Oh, dear!

here's another of those dreadful brooks - the last, I hope, for I

always feel so timid at water, and I never bathe at the sea-side

without shutting my eyes and being pushed into it by the old woman -

and, my goodness! here we are, and I feel convinced that we shall all

be thrown in by those dreadful wagoners, who are quite tipsy I'm sure

- don't you think so, Mr. Poletiss?"

But, ere Mr. Poletiss could meekly respond, the horses had been

quickened into a trot, the wagon had gone down into the brook -

through it - and was bounding up the opposite side - everybody was

holding tightly to anything that came nearest to hand - when, at that

fatal moment, little Mr. Bouncer gave the preconcerted push, which

was passed on, unpremeditatedly, from one to another, until it had

gained its electrical climax in the person of Miss Morkin, who, with

a shriek, was propelled against Mr. Poletiss, and gave the necessary

momentum that

[282 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

toppled him from the wagon into the brook. But, dreadful to relate,

Mr. Bouncer's practical joke did not terminate at this fixed point.

Mr. Poletiss, in the suddenness of his fall, naturally struck out at

any straw that might save him; and the straw that he caught was the

dress of Miss Morkin. She being at that moment off her balance, and

the wagon moving rapidly at an angle of 45°, was unable to save

herself from following the example of Mr. Poletiss, and she also

toppled over into the brook. A third victim would have been added to

Mr. Bouncer's list, had not Mr. Verdant Green, with considerable

presence of mind, plucked Miss Letitia Jane Morkin from the violent

hands that her sister was laying upon her, in making the same

endeavours after safety that had been so futilely employed by the

luckless Mr. Poletiss.

No sooner had he fallen with a splash into the brook, than Miss

Eleonora Morkin was not only after but upon him. This was so far

fortunate for the lady, that it released her with only a partial

wetting, and she speedily rolled from off her submerged companion on

to the shore; but it rendered the ducking of Mr. Poletiss a more

complete one, and he scrambled from the brook, dripping and heavy

with wet, like an old ewe emerging from a sheep-shearing tank. The

wagon had been immediately stopped, and Mr. Bouncer and the other

gentlemen had at once sprung down to Miss Morkin's assistance. Being

thus surrounded <VG282.JPG> by a male bodyguard, the young lady could

do no less than go into hysterics, and fall into the nearest

gentleman's arms, and as this gentleman was little Mr. Bouncer he was

partially punished for his practical joke. Indeed, he afterwards

declared that a severe cold which troubled him for the next fortnight

was attributable to his having held in his arms the damp form of the

dishevelled naiad. On her recovery - which was effected by Mr.

Bouncer giving way under his burden, and lowering it to the ground -

she utterly refused to be again carried in the wagon; and, as walking

was perhaps better for her under the circumstances, she and

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 283]

Mr. Poletiss were escorted in procession to the inn hard by, where

dry changes of costume were provided for them by the landlord and his

fair daughter.

As this little misadventure was believed by all, save the privileged

few, to have been purely the result of accident, it was not

permitted, so Mr. Bouncer said, to do as Miss Morkin had done by him

- throw a damp upon the party; and as the couple who had taken a

watery bath met with great sympathy, they had no reason to complain

of the incident. Especially had the fair Miss Morkin cause to

rejoice therein, for the mild Mr. Poletiss had to make her so many

apologies for having been the innocent cause of her fall, and, as a

reparation, felt <VG283.JPG> bound to so particularly devote himself

to her for the remainder of the evening, that Miss Morkin was in the

highest state of feminine gratification, and observed to her sister,

when they were preparing themselves for rest, "I am quite sure,

Letitia Jane, that the gipsy woman spoke the truth, and could read

the stars and whatdyecallems as easy as ~a b c~. She told me that I

should be married to a man with light whiskers and a soft voice, and

that he would come to me from over the water; and it's quite evident

that she referred to Mr. Poletiss and his falling into the brook; and

I'm sure if he'd have had a proper opportunity he'd have said

something definite to-night." So Miss Eleonora Morkin laid her head

upon her pillow, and dreamt of bride-cake and wedding-favours.

Perhaps another young lady under the same roof was dreaming the same

thing!

A ball at Honeywood Hall terminated the pleasures of the day. The

guests had brought with them a change of garments, and were therefore

enabled to make their reappearance in evening costume. This quiet

interval for dressing was the first moment that Verdant could secure

for sitting down by himself to think over the events of the day. As

yet the time was too early for him to reflect calmly on the step he

had taken. His brain was in that kind of delicious stupor which we

experience when, having been aroused from sleep, we again shut our

eyes for a moment's doze. Past, present, and future were

[284 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

agreeably mingled in his fancies. One thought quickly followed upon

another; there was no dwelling upon one special point, but a

succession of crowding feelings chased rapidly through his mind, all

pervaded by that sunny hue that shines out from the knowledge of love

returned.

He could not rest until he had told his sister Mary, and made her a

sharer in his happiness. He found her just without the door,

strolling up and down the drive with Charles Larkyns, so he joined

them; and, as they walked in the pleasant cool of the evening down a

shady walk, he stammered out to them, with many blushes, that Patty

Honeywood had promised to be his wife.

"Cousin Patty is the very girl for you!" said Charles Larkyns, "the

very best choice you could have made. She will trim you up and keep

you tight, as old Tennyson hath it. For what says 'the fat-faced

curate Edward Bull?'

"'I take it, God made the woman for the man

And for the good and increase of the world.

A pretty face is well, and this is well,

To have a dame indoors, that trims us up

And keeps us tight.'

"Verdant, you are a lucky fellow to have won the love of such a good

and honest-hearted girl, and if there is any room left to mould you

into a better fellow than what you are, Miss Patty is the very one

for the modeller."

At the same time that he was thus being congratulated on his good

fortune and happy prospects, Miss Patty was making a similar

confession to her mother and sister, and receiving the like good

wishes. And it is probable that Mrs. Honeywood made no delay in

communicating this piece of family news to her liege lord and master;

for when, half an hour afterwards, Mr. Verdant Green had screwed up

his courage sufficiently to enable him to request a private interview

with Mr. Honeywood in the library, the Squire most humanely relieved

him from a large load of embarrassment, and checked the hems and hums

and haws that our hero was letting off like squibs, to enliven his

conversation, by saying, "I think I guess the nature of your errand -

to ask my consent to your engagement with my daughter Martha? Am I

right?"

And so, by this grateful helping of a very lame dog over a very

difficult stile, the diplomatic relations and circumlocutions that

are usually observed at horrible interviews of this description were

altogether avoided, and the business was speedily brought to a

satisfactory termination.

When Mr. Verdant Green issued from the library, he felt himself at

least ten years older and a much more important person than when he

had entered it, so greatly is our bump of self-

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 285]

esteem increased by the knowledge that there is a being in existence

who holds us dearer than aught else in the whole wide world. But not

even a misogynist would have dared to assert that, in the present

instance, love was but an excess of self-love; for if ever there was

a true attachment that honestly sprang from the purest feelings of

the heart, it was that which existed between Miss Patty Honeywood and

Mr. Verdant Green.

What need to dwell further on the daily events of that happy time?

What need to tell how the several engagements of the two Miss

Honeywoods were made known, and how, with Miss Mary Green and Mr.

Charles Larkyns, there were thus three ~bona fide~ "engaged couples"

in the house at the same time, to say nothing of what looked like an

embryo engagement between Miss Fanny Green and Mr. Bouncer? But if

this last-named attachment should come to anything, it would probably

be owing to the severe aggravation which the little gentleman felt on

continually finding himself ~de trop~ at some scene of tender

sentiment.

If, for example, he entered the library, its tenants, perhaps, would

be Verdant and Patty, who would be discovered, with agitated

expressions, standing or sitting at intervals of three yards, thereby

endeavouring to convey to the spectator the idea that those positions

had been relatively maintained by them up to the moment of his

entering the room, an idea which the spectator invariably rejected.

When Mr. Bouncer had retired with figurative Eastern apologies from

the library, he would perhaps enter the drawing-room, there to find

that Frederick Delaval and Miss Kitty Honeywood had sprung into

remote positions (as certain bodies rebound upon contact), and were

regarding him as an unwelcome intruder. Thence, with more apologies,

he would betake himself to the breakfast-room, to see what was going

on in that quarter, and there he would flush a third brace of

betrotheds, a proceeding that was not much sport to either party. It

could hardly be a matter of surprise, therefore, if Mr. Bouncer

should be seized with the prevailing epidemic, and, from the

circumstances of his position, should be driven more than he might

otherwise have been into Miss Fanny Green's society. And though the

little gentleman had no serious intentions in all this, yet it seemed

highly probable that something might come of it, and that Mr. Alfred

Brindle (whose attentions at the Christmas charade-party at the Manor

Green had been of so marked a character) would have to resign his

pretensions to Miss Fanny Green's hand in favour of Mr. Henry Bouncer.

But it is needless to describe the daily lives of these betrothed

couples - how they rode, and sketched, and walked, and talked, and

drove, and fished, and shot, and visited, and pic-nic'd -

[286 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

how they went out to sea in Frederick Delaval's yacht, and were

overtaken by rough weather, and became so unromantically ill that

they prayed to be put on shore again - how, on a chosen day, when the

sea was as calm as a duckpond, they sailed from Bamborough to the

Longstone, and nevertheless took provisions with them for three days,

because, if storms should arise, they might have found it impossible

to put back from the island to the shore; but how, nevertheless, they

were altogether fortunate, and had not to lengthen out their pic-nic

to such an uncomfortable extent - and how they went over the

Lighthouse, and talked about the brave and gentle Grace Darling; and

how that handsome, grey-headed old man, her father, showed them the

presents that had been sent to his daughter by Queen, and Lords, and

Commons, in token of her deed of daring; and how he was garrulous

about them and her, with the pardonable pride of a

"fond old man,

Fourscore and upward,"

who had been the father of such a daughter. It is needless to detail

all this; let us rather pass to the evening of the day preceding that

which should see the group of visitors on their way back to

Warwickshire.

Mr. Verdant Green and Miss Patty Honeywood have been taking a

farewell after-dinner stroll in the garden, and have now wandered

into the deserted breakfast-room, under the pretence of finding a

water-colour drawing of Honeywood Hall, that the young lady had made

for our hero.

"Now, you must promise me," she said to him, "that you will take it

to Oxford."

"Certainly, if I go there again. But -"

"~But~, sir! but I thought you had promised to give up to me on that

point. You naughty boy! if you already break your promises in this

way, who knows but what you will forget your promise to remember me

when you have gone away from here?"

Mr. Verdant Green here did what is usual in such cases. He kissed

the young lady, and said, "You silly little woman! as though I

~could~ forget you!" ~et cetera~, ~et cetera~.

"Ah! I don't know," said Miss Patty.

Mr. Verdant Green repeated the kiss and the ~et ceteras~.

"Very well, then, I'll believe you," at length said Miss Patty. "But

I won't love you one bit unless you'll faithfully promise that you

will go back to Oxford. Whatever would be the use of your giving up

your studies?"

"A great deal of use; we could be married at once."

"Oh no, we couldn't. Papa is quite firm on this point. You know

that he thinks us much too young to be married."

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 287]

"But," pleaded our hero, "if we are old enough to fall in love,

surely we must <VG287.JPG> be old enough to be married."

"Oxford logic again, I suppose," laughed Miss Patty, "but it won't

persuade papa, nevertheless. I am not quite nineteen, you know, and

papa has always said that I should never be married until I was

one-and-twenty. By that time you will have done with college and

taken your degree, and I should so like to know that you have passed

all your examinations, and are a Bachelor of Arts."

"But," said Verdant, "I don't think I shall be able to pass.

Examinations are very nervous affairs, and suppose I should be

plucked. You wouldn't like to marry a man who had disgraced himself."

"Do you see that picture?" asked Miss Patty; and she directed

Verdant's attention to a small but exquisite oil-painting by Maclise.

It was in illustration of one of Moore's melodies, "Come, rest in

this bosom, my own stricken deer!" The lover had fallen upon one knee

at his mistress's feet, and was locked in her embrace. With a look

of fondest love she had pillowed his head upon her bosom, as if to

assure him, "Though the herd have all left thee, thy home it is here."

"Do you see that picture?" asked Miss Patty. "I would do as she did.

If all others rejected you yet would I never. You would still find

your home here," and she nestled fondly to his side.

"But," she said, after one of those delightful pauses which lovers

know so well how to fill up, "you must not conjure up such silly

fancies. Charles has often told me how easily you

[288 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

passed your - Little-go, isn't it called? - and he says you will have

no trouble in obtaining your degree."

"But two years is such a tremendous time to wait," urged our hero,

who, like all lovers, was anxious to crown his happiness without much

delay.

"If you are resolved to think it long," said Miss Patty; "but it will

enable you to tell whether you really like me. You might, you know,

marry in haste, and then have to repent at leisure."

And the end of this conversation was, that the fair special-pleader

gained her cause, and that Mr. Verdant Green consented to return to

Oxford, and not to dream of marriage until two years had passed over

his head.

The next night he slept at the Manor Green, Warwickshire.

CHAPTER X.

MR. VERDANT GREEN IS MADE A MASON.

<VG288.JPG> MR. VERDANT GREEN and Mr. Bouncer were once more in

Oxford, and on a certain morning had turned into the coffee-room of

"The Mitre" to "do bitters," as Mr. Bouncer phrased the act of

drinking bitter beer, when said the little gentleman, as he dangled

his legs from a table,

"Giglamps, old feller! you ain't a mason."

"A mason! of course not."

"And why do you say 'of course not'?"

"Why, what would be the use of it?"

"That's what parties always say, my tulip. Be a mason, and then

you'll soon see the use of it."

"But I am independent of trade."

"Trade? Oh, I twig. My gum, Giglamps! you'll be the death of me

some fine day. I didn't mean a mason with a hod of mortar; he'd be a

hod-fellow, don't you see? - there's a fine old crusted joke for you

- I meant a mason with a petticut, a freemason."

"Oh, a freemason. Well, I really don't seem to care much about being

one. As far as I can see, there's a great deal of mystery and very

little use in it."

"Oh, that's because you know nothing about it. If you were a mason

you'd soon see the use of it. For one thing, when you go abroad

you'd find it no end of a help to you. If you'll stand another

tankard of beer I'll tell you an ~apropos~ tale."

So when a fresh supply of the bitter beverage had been

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 289]

ordered and brought, little Mr. Bouncer, perched upon the table, and

dangling his legs, discoursed as follows:-

"Last Long, Billy Blades went on to the continent, and in the course

of his wanderings he came across some gentlemen who turned out to be

bandits, although they weren't dressed in tall hats and ribbons, and

scarves, and watches, and velvet sit-upons, like you see them in

pictures and at theatres; but they were rough customers for all that,

and they laid hands upon Master Billy, and politely asked him for his

money or his life. <VG289.JPG>

Billy wasn't inclined to give them either, but he was all alone, with

nothing but his knapsack and a stick, for it was a frequented road,

and he had no idea that there were such things as banditti in

existence. Well, as you're aware, Giglamps, Billy's a modern

Hercules, with an unusual development of biceps, and he not only sent

out left and right, and gave them a touch of Hammer Lane and the

Putney Pet combined, but he also applied his shoemaker to another

gentleman's tailor with considerable effect. However, this didn't

get him kudos, or mend matters one bit; and, after being knocked

about much more than was agreeable to his feelings, he was forced to

yield to superior numbers. They gagged and blindfolded him, formed

him into a procession, and marched him off; and when in about

half-an-hour they again let him have the use of his eyes and tongue,

he found himself in a rude hut, with his banditti friends around him.

They had pistols, and poniards, and long knives, with which they

made threatening demonstrations. They had cut open his knapsack and

tumbled out its contents, but not a ~sou~ could they find; for Billy,

I should

[290 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

have told you, had left the place where he was staying, for a few

days' walking tour, and he had only taken what little money he

required; of this he had one or two pieces left, which he gave them.

But it wouldn't satisfy the beggars, and they signified to him - for

you see, Giglamps, Billy didn't understand a quarter of their lingo

- that he must fork out with his tin unless he wished to be forked

into with their steel. Pleasant position, wasn't it?"

"Extremely."

"Well, they searched him, and when they found that they really

couldn't get anything more out of him, they made him understand that

he must write to some one for a ransom, and that he wouldn't be

released until the money came. Pleasant again, wasn't it?"

"Excessively. But what has all this to do with freemasonry?"

"Giglamps, you're as bad as a girl who peeps at the end of a novel

before she begins to read it. Drink your beer, and let me tell my

tale in my own way. Well, now we come to volume the third, chapter

the last. Master Billy found that there was nothing for it but to

obey orders, so he sent off a note to his banker, stating his

requirements. As soon as this business was transacted, the amiable

bandits turned to pleasure, and produced a bottle of wine, of which

they politely asked Billy to partake. He thought at first that it

might be poison, and he wasn't very far wrong, for it was most

villainous stuff. However, the other fellows took to it kindly, and

got more amiable than ever over it; so much so that they offered

Billy one of his own weeds, and they all got very jolly, and were as

thick as thieves. Billy made himself so much at home - he's a beggar

that can always adapt himself to circumstances - that at last the

chief bandit proposed his health, and then they all shook hands with

him. Well, now comes the moral of my story. When the captain of the

bandits was drinking Billy's Health in this flipper-shaking way, it

all at once occurred to Billy to give him the masonic grip. I must

not tell you what it was, but he gave it, and, lo and behold! the

bandit returned it. Both Billy and the bandit opened their eyes

pretty considerably at this. The bandit also opened his arms and

embraced his captive; and the long and short of it was that he begged

Billy's pardon for the trouble and delay they had caused him,

returned him his money and knapsack, and all the weeds that were not

smoked, set aside the ransom, and escorted him back to the high road,

guaranteeing him a free and unmolested passage if he should come that

way again. And all this because Billy was a mason; so you see,

Giglamps, what use it is to a feller. But," said Mr. Bouncer, as he

ended his tale, "talking's mon-

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 291]

strously dry work. So, I looks to-wards you, Giglamps! to which, if

you wish to do the correct thing, you should reply 'I likewise

bows!'" And, little Mr. Bouncer, winking affably to his friend,

raised the silver tankard to his lips, and kept it there for the

space of ten seconds.

"I suppose," said Verdant, "that the real moral of your story is,

that I must become a freemason, because I might travel abroad and be

attacked by a scamp who was also a freemason. Now, I think I had

better decline joining a society that numbers banditti among its

members."

"Oh, but that was an exceptional case. I dare say, if the truth was

known, Billy's friend had once been a highly respectable party, and

had paid his water-rate and income-tax like any other civilized

being. But all masons are not like Billy's friend, and the more you

know of them the more you'll thank me for having advised you to join

them. But it isn't altogether that. Every Oxford man who is really

a man is a mason, and that, Giglamps, is quite a sufficient reason

why ~you~ should be one."

So Verdant said, Very well, he had no objection; and little Mr.

Bouncer promised to arrange the necessary preliminaries. What these

were will be seen if we advance the progress of events a few days

later.

Messrs. Bouncer, Blades, Foote, and Flexible Shanks - who were all

masons, and could affix to their names more letters than members of

far more learned societies could do - had undertaken that Mr. Verdant

Green's initiation into the mysteries of the craft should be

altogether a private one. Verdant felt that this was exceedingly

kind of them; for, if it must be confessed, he had adopted the

popular idea that the admission of members was in some way or other

connected with the free use of a red-hot poker, and though he was

reluctant to breathe his fears on this point, yet he looked forward

to the ceremony with no little dread. He was therefore immensely

relieved when he found that, by the kindness of his friends, his

initiation would not take place in the presence of the assembled

members of the Lodge.

For a week Mr. Verdant Green was benevolently left to ponder and

speculate on the ceremonial horrors that would attend his

introduction to the mysteries of freemasonry, and by the appointed

day he had worked himself into such a state of nervous excitement

that he was burning more with the fever of apprehension than that of

curiosity. There was no help for him, however; he had promised to go

through the ordeal, whatever it might be, and he had no desire to be

laughed at for having abandoned his purpose through fear.

The Lodge of Cemented Bricks, of which Messrs. Bouncer and

[292 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

Co. had promised to make Mr. Verdant Green a member, occupied

spacious rooms in a certain large house in a certain small street not

a hundred miles from the High Street. The ascent to the Lodge-room,

which was at the top of the house, was by a rather formidable flight

of stairs, up which Mr. Verdant Green tremblingly climbed, attended

by Mr. Bouncer as his ~fidus Achates~. The little gentleman, in that

figurative Oriental language to which he was so partial,

considerately advised his friend to keep up his pecker and never say

die; but his exhortation of "Now, don't you be frightened, Giglamps,

we shan't hurt you more than we can help," only increased the anguish

of our hero's sensations; and when at the last he found himself at

the top of the stairs, and before a door which was guarded by Mr.

Foote, who held a drawn sword, and was dressed in unusually full

masonic costume, and looked stern and unearthly in the dusky gloom,

he turned back, and would have made his escape had he not been

prevented by Mr. "Footelights' " naked weapon. Mr. Bouncer had

previously cautioned him that he must not in any way evince a

recognition of his friends until the ceremonies of the initiation

were completed, and that the infringement of this command would lead

to his total expulsion from his friends' society. Mr. Bouncer had

also told him that he must not be surprised at anything that he might

see or hear; which, under the circumstances, was very seasonable as

well as sensible advice. Mr. Verdant Green, therefore, submitted to

his fate, and to Mr. Footelights' drawn sword.

"The first step, Giglamps," whispered Mr. Bouncer, "is the

blindfolding; the next is the challenge, which is in Coptic, the

original language, you know, of the members of the first Lodge of

Cemented Bricks. Swordbearer and Deputy Past Pantile Foote will do

this for you. I must go and put my things on. Remember, you musn't

recognize me when you come into the Lodge. Adoo, Samiwel! keep your

pecker up." Mr. Verdant Green wrung his friend's hand, pocketed his

spectacles, and submitted to be blindfolded.

Mr. Footelights then took him by the hand, and knocked three times at

the door. A voice, which Verdant recognized as that of Mr. Blades,

inquired, "Kilaricum luricum tweedlecum twee?"

To which Mr. Footelights replied, "Astrakansa siphonia bostrukizon!"

and laid the cold steel blade against Mr. Verdant Green's cheek in a

way which made that gentleman shiver.

Mr. Blades' voice then said, "Swordbearer and Deputy Past Pantile,

pass in the neophyte who seeks to be a Cemented Brick"; and Mr.

Verdant Green was thereupon guided into the room.

"Gropelos toldery lol! remove the handkerchief," said the voice of

Mr. Blades.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 293]

The glare from numerous wax-lights, reflected as it was from polished

gold, silver, and marble, affected Mr. Verdant Green's bandaged eyes,

and prevented him for a time from seeing anything distinctly, but on

Mr. Foote motioning to him that he might resume his spectacles, he

was soon enabled by their aid to survey the scene. Around him stood

Mr. Bouncer, Mr. Blades, Mr. Flexible Shanks, and Mr. Foote. Each

held a drawn and gleaming sword; each wore aprons, scarves, or

mantles; each was decorated with mystic masonic jewellery; each was

silent and preternaturally serious. The room was large and was

furnished with the greatest splendour, but its contents seemed

strange and mysterious to our hero's eyes.

"Advance the neophyte! Oodiny dulipy sing!" said Mr. Blades, who

walked to the other end of the room, stepped upon a dais, ascended

his throne, and laid aside the sword for a sceptre. Mr. Foote and

Mr. Flexible Shanks then took Mr. Verdant Green by either shoulder,

and escorted him up the room with their drawn swords turned towards

him, while Mr. Bouncer followed, and playfully prodded him in the

rear.

In the front of Mr. Blades' throne there was a species of altar, of

which the chief ornaments were a large sword, a skull and

cross-bones, illuminated by a great wax light placed in a tall silver

candlestick. Silver globes and pillars stood upon the dais on either

side of the throne; and luxuriously-velveted chairs and rows of seats

were ranged around. Before the altar-like erection a small funereal

black and white carpet was spread upon the black and white lozenged

floor; and on this carpet were arranged the following articles:- a

money chest, a ballot box (very like Miss Bouncer's Camera), two

pairs of swords, three little mallets, and a skull and cross-bones -

the display of which emblems of mortality confirmed Mr. Verdant Green

in his previously-formed opinion, that the Lodge-room was a veritable

chamber of horrors, and he would willingly have preferred a visit to

that "lodge in some vast wilderness," for which the poet sighed, and

to have forgone all those promised benefits that were to be derived

from Freemasonry.

But wishing could not save him. He had no sooner arrived in front of

the skull and cross-bones than the procession halted, and Mr. Blades,

rising from his throne, said, "Let the Sword-bearer and Deputy Past

Pantile, together with the Provincial Grand Mortar-board, do their

duty! Ramohun roy azalea tong! Produce the poker! Past Grand Hodman,

remain on guard!"

Mr. Foote and Mr. Flexible Shanks removed their hands and swords from

Mr. Verdant Green, and walked solemnly down the room, leaving little

Mr. Bouncer standing beside our hero, and holding the drawn sword

above his head. Mr. Foote and Mr.

[294 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

Flexible Shanks returned, escorting between them the poker. It was

cold! that was a relief. But how long was it to remain so?

"Past Grand Hodman!" said Mr. Blades, "instruct the neophyte in the

primary proceedings of the Cemented Bricks."

At Mr. Bouncer's bidding, Mr. Verdant Green then sat down upon the

lozenged floor, and held his knees with his hands. Mr. Flexible

Shanks then brought to him the poker, and said, "Tetrao urogallus

orygometra crex!" The poker was then, <VG294.JPG> by the assistance

of Mr. Foote, placed under the knees and over the arms of Mr. Verdant

Green, who thus sat like a trussed fowl, and equally helpless.

"Recite to the neophyte the oath of the Cemented Bricks!" said Mr.

Blades.

"Ramphastidinae toco scolopendra tinnunculus cracticornis bos!"

exclaimed Mr. Flexible Shanks.

"Do you swear to obey through fire and water, and bricks and mortar,

the words of this oath?" asked Mr. Blades from his throne.

"You must say, I do!" whispered Mr. Bouncer to Mr. Verdant Green, who

accordingly muttered the response.

"Let the oath be witnessed and registered by Swordbearer and Deputy

Past Pantile, Provincial Grand Mortar-board, and Past Grand Hodman!"

said Mr. Blades; and the three gentlemen thus designated stood on

either side of and behind Mr. Verdant Green, and, with theatrical

gestures, clashed their swords over his head.

"Keemo kimo lingtum nipcat! let him rise," said Mr.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 295]

Blades; and the poker was thereupon withdrawn from its position, and

Mr. Verdant Green, being untrussed, but somewhat stiff and cramped,

was assisted upon his legs.

He hoped that his troubles were now at an end; but this pleasing

delusion was speedily dispelled, by Mr. Blades saying - "The next

part of the ceremonial is the delivery of the red-hot poker. Let the

poker be heated!"

Mr. Verdant Green went chill with dread as he watched the terrible

instrument borne from the room by Mr. Foote and Mr. Flexible Shanks,

while Mr. Bouncer resumed his guard over him with the drawn sword.

All was quiet save a smothered sound from the other side of the door,

which, under other circumstances, Verdant would have taken for

suppressed laughter; but, the solemnity of the proceedings repelled

the idea.

At length the poker was brought in, red-hot and smoking, whereupon

Mr. Blades left his throne and walked to the other end of the room,

and there took his seat upon a second throne, before which was a

second altar, garnished - as Mr. Verdant Green soon perceived, to his

horror and amazement - with a human head (or the representation of

one) projecting from a black cloth that concealed the neck, and,

doubtless, the marks of decapitation. Its ghastly features were

clearly displayed by the aid of a wax light placed in a tall silver

candlestick by its side.

Mr. Blades received the poker from Mr. Foote, and commanded the

neophyte to advance. Mr. Verdant Green did so, and took up a

trembling position to the left of the throne, while Mr. Foote and Mr.

Flexible Shanks proceeded to the organ, which was to the right of the

entrance door. Mr. Blades then delivered the poker to Mr. Verdant

Green, who, at first, imagined that he was required to seize it by

its red-hot end, but was greatly relieved in his mind when he found

that he had merely to take it by the handle, and repeat (as well as

he could) a form of gibberish that Mr. Blades dictated. Having done

this he was desired to transfer the poker to the Past Grand Hodman -

Mr. Bouncer.

He had just come to the joyful conclusion that the much dreaded poker

portion of the business was now at an end, when

[296 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

Mr. Blades ruthlessly cast a dark cloud over his gleam of happiness,

by saying - "The next part of the ceremony will be the branding with

the red-hot poker. Let the organist call in the aid of music to

drown the shrieks of the victim!" and, thereupon, Mr. Foote struck up

(with the full swell of the organ) a heart-rending air that sounded

like "the cries of the wounded" from ~the Battle of Prague~.

Now, it happened that little Mr. Bouncer - like his sister - was

subject to uncontrollable fits of laughter at improper seasons. For

the last half-hour he had suffered severely from the torture of

suppressed mirth, and now, as he saw Mr. Verdant Green's climax of

fright at the anticipated branding, human nature could not longer

bear up against an explosion of merriment, and Mr. Bouncer burst into

shouts of laughter, and, with convulsive sobs, flung himself upon the

nearest seat. His example was contagious; Mr. Blades, Mr. Foote, and

Mr. Flexible Shanks, one after another, joined in the roar, and

relieved their pent-up feelings with a rush of uproarious laughter.

At the first Mr. Verdant Green looked surprised, and in doubt whether

or no this was but a part of the usual proceedings attendant upon the

initiation of a member into the Lodge of Cemented Bricks. Then the

truth dawned upon him, and he blushed up to his spectacles.

"Sold again, Giglamps!" shouted little Mr. Bouncer. "I didn't think

we could carry out the joke so far, I wonder if this will be hoax the

last for Mr. Verdant Green?"

"I hope so indeed!" replied our hero; "for I have no wish to continue

a Freshman all through my college life. But I'll give you full

liberty to hoax me again - if you can." And Mr. Verdant Green joined

good-humouredly in the laughter raised at his own expense.

Not many days after this he was really made a Mason; although the

Lodge was not that of the Cemented Bricks, or the forms of initiation

those invented by his four friends.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 297]

CHAPTER XI.

MR. VERDANT GREEN BREAKFASTS WITH MR. BOUNCER, AND ENTERS

FOR A GRIND.

<VG297.JPG> LITTLE Mr. Bouncer had abandoned his intention of

obtaining a ~licet migrare~ to "the Tavern," and had decided (the

Dons being propitious) to remain at Brazenface, in the nearer

neighbourhood of his friends. He had resumed his reading for his

degree; and, at various odd times, and in various odd ways, he

crammed himself for his forthcoming examination with the most

confused and confusing scraps of knowledge. He was determined, he

said, "to stump the examiners."

One day, when Mr. Verdant Green had come from morning chapel, and had

been refreshed by the perusal of an unusually long epistle from his

charming Northumbrian correspondent, he betook himself to his

friend's rooms, and found the little gentleman - notwithstanding that

he was expecting a breakfast party - still luxuriating in bed. His

curly black wig reposed on its block on the dressing table, and the

closely shaven skull that it daily decorated shone whiter than the

pillow that it pressed; for although Mr. Bouncer considered that

night-caps might be worn by "long-tailed babbies," and by "old birds

that were as bald as coots," yet, he, being a young bird - though not

a baby - declined to ensconce his head within any kind of white

covering, after the fashion of the portraits of the poet Cowper. The

smallness of Mr. Bouncer's dormitory caused his wash-hand-stand to be

brought against his bed's head; and the little gentleman had availed

himself of this conveniency, to place within the basin a blubbering,

bubbling, gurgling hookah, from which a long stem curled in vine-like

tendrils, until it found a resting place in Mr. Bouncer's mouth. The

little gentleman lay comfortably propped on pillows, with his hands

tucked under his head, and his knees crooked up to form a rest for a

manuscript book of choice "crams," that had been gleaned by him from

those various fields of knowledge from which the true labourer reaps

so rich and ripe a store. Huz and Buz reposed on the counterpane, to

complete this picture of Reading for a Pass.

"The top o' the morning to you, Giglamps!" he said, as he saluted

his friend with a volley of smoke - a salute similar as to the smoke,

but superior, in the absence of noise and slightness

[298 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

of expense, to that which would have greeted Mr. Verdant Green's

approach had he been of the royal blood - "here I am! sweating away,

as usual, for that beastly examination." <VG298.JPG> (It was a

popular fallacy with Mr. Bouncer, that he read very hard and very

regularly.) "I thought I'd cut chapel this morning, and coach up

for my Divinity paper. Do you know who Hadassah was, old feller?"

"No! I never heard of her."

"Ha! you may depend upon it, those are the sort of questions that

pluck a man;" said Mr. Bouncer, who thought - as others like him have

thought - that the getting up of a few abstruse proper names would be

proof sufficient for a thorough knowledge of the whole subject. "But

I'm not going to let them gulph me a second time; though, they ought

not to plough a man who's been at Harrow, ought they, old feller?"

"Don't make bad jokes."

"So I shall work well at these crams, although, of course, I shall

put on my examination coat, and trust a good deal to my cards, and

watch papers, and shirt wristbands, and so on."

"I should have thought," said Verdant, "that after those sort of

crutches had broken down with you once, you would not fly to their

support a second time."

"Oh, I shall though! - I must, you know!" replied the infatuated Mr.

Bouncer. "The Mum cut up doosid this last time; you've no idea how

she turned on the main, and did the briny! and, I must make things

sure this time. After all, I believe it was those Second Aorists

that ploughed me."

It is remarkable, that, not only in Mr. Bouncer's case, but in many

others, also, of a like nature, gentlemen who have been plucked can

always attribute their totally-unexpected failures to a Second

Aorist, or a something equivalent to "the salmon," or "the melted

butter," or "that glass of sherry," which are recognized as the

causes for so many morning reflections. This curious circumstance

suggests an interesting source of inquiry for the speculative.

"Well!" said Mr. Bouncer meditatively; "I'm not so sorry, after all,

that they cut up rough, and ploughed me. It's enabled me, you see,

to come back here, and be jolly. I

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 299]

shouldn't have known what to do with myself away from Oxford. A man

can't be always going to feeds and tea-fights; and that's all that I

have to do when I'm down in the country with the Mum - she likes me,

you know, to do the filial, and go about with her. And it's not a

bad thing to have something to work at! it keeps what you call your

intellectual faculties on the move. I don't wonder at thingumbob

crying when he'd no more whatdyecallems to conquer! he was regularly

used up, I dare say."

Mr. Bouncer, upon this, rolled out some curls of smoke from the

corner of his mouth, and then observed, "I'm glad I started this

hookah! 'the judicious Hooker,' ain't it, Giglamps? it is so jolly,

at night, to smoke oneself to sleep, with the tail end of it in one's

mouth, and to find it there in the morning, all ready for a fresh

start. It makes me get on with my coaching like a house on fire."

Here there was a rush of men into the adjacent room, who hailed Mr.

Bouncer as a disgusting Sybarite, and, flinging their caps and gowns

into a corner, forthwith fell upon the good fare which Mr. Robert

Filcher had spread before them; at the same time carrying on a lively

conversation with their host, the occupant of the bed-room. "Well! I

suppose I must turn out, and do tumbies!" said Mr. Bouncer. So he

got up, and went into his tub; and presently, sat down comfortably to

breakfast, in his shirt-sleeves.

When Mr. Bouncer had refreshed his inner man, and strengthened

himself for his severe course of reading by the consumption of a

singular mixture of coffee and kidneys, beef-steaks and beer; and

when he had rested from his exertions, and had resumed his pipe -

which was not "the judicious Hooker," but a short clay, smoked to a

swarthy hue, and on that account, as well as from its presumed

medicatory power, called "the Black Doctor," - just then, Mr. Smalls,

and a detachment of invited guests, who had been to an early lecture,

dropped in to breakfast. Huz and Buz, setting up a terrific bark,

darted towards a minute specimen of the canine species, which, with

the aid of a powerful microscope, might have been discovered at the

feet of its proud proprietor, Mr. Smalls. It was the first dog of its

kind imported into Oxford, and it was destined to set on foot a

fashion that soon bade fair to drive out of the field those

long-haired Skye-terriers, with two or three specimens of which

species, he entered the room.

"Kill 'em, Lympy!" said Mr. Smalls to his pet, who, with an extreme

display of pugnacity, was submitting to the curious and minute

inspection of Huz and Buz. "Lympy" was a black and tan terrier, with

smooth hair, glossy coat, bead-like eyes, cropped ears, pointed tail,

limbs of a cobwebby structure,

[300 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

and so diminutive in its proportions, that its owner was accustomed

to carry it inside the breast of his waistcoat, as a precaution,

probably, against its being blown away. And it was called "Lympy,"

as an abbreviation of "Olympus," which was the name derisively given

to it for its smallness, on the ~lucus a non lucendo~ principle that

miscalls the lengthy "brief" of the barrister, the "living" -

not-sufficient-to-support-life - of the poor vicar, the uncertain

"certain age," the unfair "fare" and the son-ruled "governor."

"Lympy" was placed upon the table, in order that he might be duly

admired; an exaltation at which Huz and Buz and the Skye-terriers

chafed with jealousy. "Be quiet, you beggars! he's prettier than

you!" said Mr. Smalls; whereupon, a mild punster present propounded

the canine query, "Did it ever occur to a cur to be lauded to the

Skyes?" at which there was a shout of indignation, and he was sconced

by the unanimous vote of the company.

"Lympy ain't a bad style of dog," said little Mr. Bouncer, as he

puffed away at the Black Doctor. "He'd be perfect, if he hadn't one

fault." "And what's his fault, pray?" asked his anxious owner.

"There's rather too much of him!" observed Mr. Bouncer, gravely.

"Robert!" shouted the little gentleman to his scout; "Robert! doose

take the feller, he's always out of the way when he's wanted." And,

when the performance of a variety of octaves on the post-horn,

combined with the free use of the speaking-trumpet, had brought Mr.

Robert Filcher to his presence, Mr. Bouncer received him with

objurgations, and ordered another tankard of beer from the buttery.

In the meantime, the conversation had taken a sporting turn. "Do you

meet Drake's to-morrow?" asked Mr. Blades of Mr. Four-in-hand

Fosbrooke.

"No! the old Berkshire," was the reply. "Where's the meet?"

"At Buscot Park. I send my horse to Thompson's, at the

Farringdon-Road station, and go to meet him by rail."

"And, what about the Grind?" asked Mr. Smalls of the company

generally.'

"Oh yes!" said Mr. Bouncer, "let us talk over the Grind. Giglamps,

old feller, you must join."

"Certainly, if you wish it," said Mr. Verdant Green, who,

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 301]

however, had as little idea as the man in the moon what they were

talking about. But, as he was no longer a Freshman, he was unwilling

to betray his ignorance on any matter pertaining to college life; so

he looked much wiser than he felt, and saved himself from saying more

on the subject, by sipping a hot spiced draught from a silver cup

that was pushed round to him. <VG301.JPG> "That's the very cup that

Four-in-hand Fosbrooke won at the last Grind," said Mr. Bouncer.

"Was it indeed!" safely answered Mr. Verdant Green, who looked at the

silver cup (on which was engraven a coat of arms with the words

"Brazenface Grind.- Fosbrooke,"), and wondered what "a Grind" might

be. A medical student would have told [him] that a "Grind" meant the

reading up for an examination [under] the tuition of one who was

familiarly termed "a Grinder" - a process which Mr. Verdant Green's

friends would phrase as "Coaching" under "a Coach;" but the

conversation that followed upon Mr. Smalls' introduction of the

subject, made our hero aware, that, to a University man, a Grind did

not possess any reading signification, but a riding one. In fact, it

was a steeple-chase, slightly varying in its details according to the

college that patronized the pastime. At Brazenface, "the Grind" was

usually over a known line of country, marked out with flags by the

gentleman (familiarly known as Anniseed) who attended to this

business, and full of leaps of various kinds, and various degrees of

stiffness. By sweepstakes and subscriptions, a sum of from ten to

fifteen pounds was raised for the purchase of a silver cup, wherewith

to grace the winner's wines and breakfast parties; but, as the winner

had occasionally been known to pay as much as fifteen pounds for the

day's hire of the blood horse who was to land him first at the goal,

and as he had, moreover, to discharge many other little expenses,

including the by no means little one of a dinner to the losers, the

conqueror for the cup usually obtained more glory than profit.

"I suppose you'll enter ~Tearaway~, as before?" asked Mr. Smalls of

Mr. Fosbrooke.

"Yes! for I want to get him in condition for the Aylesbury

steeple-chase," replied the owner of ~Tearaway~, who was rather too

fond of vaunting his blue silk and black cap before the eyes of the

sporting public.

"You've not much to fear from this man," said Mr. Bouncer, indicating

(with the Black Doctor) the stalwart form of Mr.

[302 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

Blades. "Billy's too big in the Westphalias. Giglamps, you're the

boy to cook Fosbrooke's goose. Don't you remember what old

father-in-law Honeywood told you, - that you might, would, should, and

could, ride like a Shafto? and lives there a man with soul so dead, -

as Shikspur or some other cove observes - who wouldn't like to show

what stuff he was made of? I can put you up to a wrinkle," said the

little gentleman, sinking his voice to a whisper. "Tollitt has got a

mare who can lick ~Tearaway~ into fits. She is as easy as a chair,

and jumps like a cat. All that you have to do is to sit back, clip

the pig-skin, and send her at it; and, she'll take you over without

touching a twig. He'd promised her to me, but I intend to cut the

Grind altogether; it interferes too much, don't you see, with my

coaching. So I can make Tollitt keep her for you. Think how well

the cup would look on your side-board, when you've blossomed into a

parient, and changed the adorable Patty into Mrs. Verdant. Think of

that, Master Giglamps!"

Mr. Bouncer's argument was a persuasive one, and Mr. Verdant Green

consented to be one of the twelve gentlemen, who cheerfully paid

their sovereigns to be allowed to make their appearance as amateur

jockeys at the forthcoming Grind. After much debate, "the Wet Ensham

course" was decided upon; and three o'clock in the afternoon of that

day fortnight was fixed for the start. Mr. Smalls gained ~kudos~ by

offering to give the luncheon at his rooms; and the host of the Red

Lion, at Ensham, was ordered to prepare one of his very best dinners,

for the winding up of the day's sport.

"I don't mind paying for it," said Verdant to Mr. Bouncer, "if I can

but win the cup, and show it to Patty, when she comes to us at

Christmas."

"Keep your pecker up, old feller! and put your trust in old beans,"

was Mr.Bouncer's reply.

CHAPTER XII.

MR. VERDANT GREEN TAKES HIS DEGREE.

DURING the fortnight that intervened between Mr. Bouncer's breakfast

party and the Grind, Mr. Verdant Green got himself into training for

his first appearance as a steeple-chase rider, by practising a

variety of equestrian feats over leaping-bars and gorse stuck

hurdles; in which he acquitted himself with tolerable success, and

came off with fewer bruises than might have been expected. At this

period of his career, too, he strengthened his bodily powers by

practising himself in those varieties of the "manly exercises" that

found most favour in Oxford.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 303]

The adoption of some portion of these was partly attributable to his

having been made a Mason; for, whenever he attended the meetings of

his Lodge, he had to pass the two rooms where Mr. MacLaren conducted

his fencing-school and gymnasium. The fencing-room - which was the

larger of the two, and was of the same dimensions as the Lodge-room

above it - was usually tenanted by the proprietor and his assistant

(who, as Mr. <VG303.JPG> Bouncer phrased it, "put the pupils through

their paces,") and re-echoed to the sounds of stampings, and the cries

of "On guard! quick! parry! lunge!" with the various other terms of

Defence and Attack, uttered in French and English. At the upper end

of the room, over the fire-place, was a stand of curious arms,

flanked on either side by files of single-sticks. The centre of the

room was left clear for the fencing; while the lower end was occupied

by the parallel bars, a regiment of Indian clubs, and a mattress

apparatus for the delectation of the sect of jumpers.

Here Mr. Verdant Green, properly equipped for the purpose, was

accustomed to swing his clubs after the presumed Indian manner, to

lift himself off his feet and hang suspended between the parallel

bars, to leap the string on to the mattress, to be rapped and thumped

with single-sticks and boxing-gloves by any one else than Mr. Blades

(who had developed his muscles in a most formidable manner), and to

go through his parades of ~quarte~ and ~tierce~ with the flannel-

[304 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

clothed assistant. Occasionally he had a fencing bout with

<VG304.JPG> the good-humoured Mr. MacLaren, who - professionally

protected by his padded leathern ~plastron~ - politely and obligingly

did his best to assure him, both by precept and example, of the truth

of the wise old saw, "mens sana in corpore sano."

The lower room at MacLaren's presented a very different appearance to

the fencing-room. The wall to the right hand, as well as a part of

the wall at the upper end, was hung around - not

"With pikes, and guns, and bows,"

like the fine old English gentleman's, - but nevertheless,

"With swords, and good old cutlasses,"

and foils, and fencing masks, and fencing gloves, and boxing gloves,

and pads, and belts, and light white shoes. Opposite to the door, was

the vaulting-horse, on whose wooden back the gymnasiast sprang at a

bound, and over which the tyro (with the aid of the spring-board)

usually pitched himself headlong. Then, commencing at the further

end, was a series of poles and ropes - the turning pole, the hanging

poles, the rings, and the ~trapeze~, - on either or all of which the

pupil could exercise himself; and, if he had the skill so to do,

could jerk himself from one to the other, and finally hang himself

upon the sloping ladder, before the momentum of his spring had passed

away.

Mr. Bouncer, who could do most things with his hands and feet, was a

very distinguished pupil of Mr. MacLaren's; for the little gentleman

was as active as a monkey, and - to quote his own remarkably

figurative expression - was "a great deal livelier than ~the Bug and

Butterfly~."*

Mr. Bouncer, then, would go through the full series of gymnastic

performances, and finally pull himself up the rounds of the ladder,

with the greatest apparent ease, much to the envy of Mr. Verdant

Green, who, bathed in perspiration, and nearly dislocating every bone

in his body, would vainly struggle (in

---

* A name given to Mr. Hope's Entomological Museum.

-=-

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 305]

attitudes like to those of "the perspiring frog" of Count Smorltork)

to imitate his mercurial friend, and would finally drop exhausted on

the padded floor.

And, Mr. Verdant Green did not confine himself to these indoor

amusements; but studied the Oxford Book of Sports in various

out-of-door ways. Besides his Grinds, and cricketing, and boating,

and hunting, he would paddle down to Wyatt's <VG305.JPG> for a little

pistol practice, or to indulge in the exciting amusement of

rifle-shooting at empty bottles, or to practise, on the leaping and

swinging poles, the lessons he was learning at MacLaren's, or to play

at skittles with Mr. Bouncer (who was very expert in knocking down

three out of the four); or to kick football until he became (to use

Mr. Bouncer's expression) "as stiff as a biscuit."

Or, he would attend the shooting parties given by William Brown,

Esquire, of University House; where blue-rocks and brown rabbits were

turned out of traps for the sport of the assembled bipeds and

quadrupeds. The luckless pigeons and rabbits had but a poor chance

for their lives; for, if the gentleman who paid for the privilege of

the shot missed his rabbit (which was within the bounds of

probability) the other guns were at once discharged, and the dogs of

[306 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

Town and Gown let slip. And, if any rabbit was nimble and

<VG306-1.JPG> fortunate enough to run this gauntlet with the loss of

only a tail or ear, and, Galatea-like,

"fugit ad salices,"

and rushed into the willow-girt ditches, it speedily fell before the

clubs of the "cads," who were there to watch, and profit by the

sports of their more aristocratic neighbours.*

Mr. Verdant Green would also study the news of the day, in the

floating reading-room of the University Barge; and, from these

comfortable quarters, indite a letter to Miss Patty, and look out

upon the picturesque river with its moving life of eights and

four-oars sweeping past with measured stroke. A great feature of the

river picture, just about this time, was the crowd of newly

introduced canoes; their occupants, in every variety of

bright-coloured shirts and caps, flashing up and down a double

paddle, the ends of which were painted in gay colours, or emblazoned

with the owner's crest. But Mr. Verdant Green, with a due regard for

his own preservation from drowning, was content with looking at these

cranky canoes, as they flitted, like gaudy dragon-flies, over the

surface of the water.

Fain would the writer of these pages linger over these memoirs of Mr.

Verdant Green. Fain would he tell how his hero <VG306-2.JPG> did

many things that might be thought worthy of mention, besides those

which have been already chronicled; but, this narrative has already

reached its assigned limits, and, even a historian must submit to be

kept within reasonable bounds. The Dramatist has the privilege of

escaping many difficulties, and passing swiftly over confusing

details, by the simple intimation that "An interval of twenty years

is supposed to take place between the

---

* "The Vice-Chancellor, by the direction of the Hebdomadal Council,

has issued a notice against the practice of pigeon-shooting, &c., in

the neighbourhood of the University." - ~Oxford Intelligence~, Decr.

1854.

-=-

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 307]

Acts." Suffice it, therefore, for Mr. Verdant Green's historian, to

avail himself of this dramatic art, and, in a very few sentences, to

pass over the varied events of two years, in order that he may arrive

at a most important passage in his hero's career.

The Grind came off without Mr. Verdant Green being enabled to

communicate to Miss Patty Honeywood, that he was the winner of a

silver cup. Indeed, he did not arrive at the winning post until half

an hour after it had been first reached by Mr. Four-in-hand Fosbrooke

on his horse ~Tearaway~; for, after narrowly escaping a blow from the

hatchet of an irate agriculturist who professed great displeasure at

any one presuming to come a galloperin' and a tromplin' over his

fences, Mr. Verdant Green finally "came to grief," by being flung

into a disagreeably-moist ditch. And though, for that evening, he

forgot his troubles, in the jovial dinner that took place at ~the Red

Lion~, yet, the next morning, they were immensely aggravated, when

the Tutor told them that he had heard of the steeple-chase, and

should expel every gentleman who had taken part in it. The Tutor,

however, relented, and did not carry out his threat; though Mr.

Verdant Green suffered almost as much as if he had really kept it.

The infatuated Mr. Bouncer madly persisted (despite the entreaties

and remonstrances of his friends) in going into the Schools clad in

his examination coat, and padded over with a host of crams. His fate

was a warning that similar offenders should lay to heart, and profit

by; for the little gentleman was again plucked. Although he was

grieved at this on "the Mum's" account, his mercurial temperament

enabled him to thoroughly enjoy the Christmas vacation at the Manor

Green, where were again gathered together the same party who had met

there the previous Christmas. The cheerful society of Miss Fanny

Green did much, probably, towards restoring Mr. Bouncer to his usual

happy frame of mind; and, after Christmas, he gladly returned to his

beloved Oxford, leaving Brazenface, and migrating ("through

circumstances over which he had no control," as he said) to "the

Tavern." But when the time for his examination drew on, the little

gentleman was seized with such trepidation, and "funked" so greatly,

that he came to the resolution not to trouble the Examiners again,

and to dispense with the honours of a Degree. And so, at length,

greatly to Mr. Verdant Green's sorrow, and "regretted by all that

knew him," Mr. Bouncer sounded his final octaves and went the

complete unicorn for the last time in a College quad, and gave his

last Wine (wherein he produced some "very old port, my teacakes! -

I've had it since last term!") and then, as an undergraduate, bade

his last farewell to Oxford, with the parting declaration, that,

though he had not taken his

[308 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

Degree, yet that he had got through with great ~credit~, for that he

had left behind him a heap of unpaid bills.

By this time, or shortly after, many of Mr. Verdant Green's earliest

friends had taken their Degrees, and had left College; and their

places were occupied by a new set of men, among whom our hero found

many pleasant companions, whose names and titles need not be recorded

here.

When June had come, there was a "grand Commemoration," and this was

quite a sufficient reason that the Miss Honeywoods should take their

first peep at Oxford, at so favourable an opportunity. Accordingly

there they came, together with the Squire, and were met by a portion

of Mr. Verdant Green's family, and by Mr. Bouncer; and there were

they duly taken to all the lions, and initiated into some of the

mysteries of College life. Miss Patty was enchanted with everything

that she saw - even carrying her admiration to Verdant's

undergraduate's gown - and was proudly escorted from College to

College by her enamoured swain.

"Pleasant it was, when woods were green,

And winds were soft and low,"

when in a House-boat, and in four-oars, they made an expedition ("a

wine and water party," as Mr. Bouncer called it) to Nuneham, and,

after safely passing through the perils of the pound-locks of Iffley

and Sandford, arrived at the pretty thatched cottage, and pic-nic'd

in the round-house, and strolled through the nut plantations up to

Carfax hill, to see the glorious view of Oxford, and looked at the

Conduit, and Bab's-tree, and <VG308.JPG> paced over the little rustic

bridge to the island, where Verdant and Patty talked as lovers love

to talk.

Then did Mr. Verdant Green accompany his lady-love to Northumberland;

from whence, after spending a pleasant month that, all too quickly,

came to an end, he departed (~via~ Warwickshire) for a continental

tour, which he took in the company of Mr. and

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 309]

Mrs. Charles Larkyns (~nee~ Mary Green), who were there for the

honeymoon.

Then he returned to Oxford; and when the month of May had again come

round, he went in for his Degree examination. He passed with flying

colours, and was duly presented with that much-prized shabby piece of

paper, on which was printed and written the following brief form:-

Green Verdant e Coll. AEn. Fac.

~Die 28° Mensis~ Maii ~Anni~ 185-

~Examinatus, prout Statuta requirunt, satisfecit nobis

Examinatoribus.~

{J. Smith. }

Ita testamur {Gul. Brown. } Examinatores in

{Jac. L. Jones. } Literis Humanio-

{R. Robinson. } ribus

Owing to Mr. Verdant Green having entered upon residence at the time

of his matriculation, he was obliged, for the present, to defer the

putting on of his gown, and, consequently, of arriving at the ~full~

dignity of a Bachelor of Arts. Nevertheless, he had taken his Degree

~de facto~, if not ~de jure~; and he, therefore - for reasons which

will appear - gave the usual Degree dinner, on the day of his taking

his Testamur.

He also cleared his rooms, giving some of his things away, sending

others to Richards's sale-rooms, and resigning his china and glass to

the inexorable Mr. Robert Filcher, who would forthwith dispose of

these gifts (much over their cost price) to the next Freshman who

came under his care.

Moreover, as the adorning of College chimney-pieces with the

photographic portraits of all the owner's College friends, had just

then come into fashion, Mr. Verdant Green's beaming countenance and

spectacles were daguerreotyped in every variety of Ethiopian

distortion; and, being enclosed in miniature frames, were distributed

as souvenirs among his admiring friends.

Then, Mr. Verdant Green went down to Warwickshire; and, within three

months, travelled up to Northumberland on a special mission.

CHAPTER THE LAST.

MR. VERDANT GREEN IS MARRIED AND DONE FOR.

LASTHOPE'S ruined Church, since it had become a ruin - which was many

a long year ago - had never held within its mouldering walls so

numerous a congregation as was assembled therein on one particular

September morning,

[310 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

somewhere about the middle of the present century. It must be

confessed that this unusual assemblage had not been drawn together to

see and hear the officiating Clergyman (who had never, at any time,

been a special attraction), although that ecclesiastical Ruin was

present, and looked almost picturesque in the unwonted glories of a

clean surplice and white kid gloves. But, this decorative appearance

of the Ruin, coupled with the fact that it was made on a week-day,

was a sufficient proof that no ordinary circumstance had brought

about this goodly assemblage.

At length, after much expectant waiting, those on the outside of the

Church discerned the figure of small Jock Muir mounted on his highly

trained donkey, and galloping along at a tearing pace from the

direction of Honeywood Hall. It soon became evident that he was the

advance guard of two carriages that were being rapidly whirled along

the rough road that led by the rocky banks of the Swirl. Before

small Jock drew rein, he had struggled to relieve his own excitement,

and that of the crowd, by pointing to the carriages and shouting,

"Yon's the greums, wi' the t'other priest!" the correctness of which

assertion was speedily manifested by the arrival of the "grooms" in

question, who were none other than Mr. Verdant Green and Mr.

Frederick Delaval, accompanied by the Rev. Mr. Larkyns (who was to

"assist" at the ceremony) and their "best men," who were Mr. Bouncer

and a cousin of Frederick Delaval's. Which quintet of gentlemen at

once went into the Church, and commenced a whispered conversation

with the ecclesiastical Ruin. These circumstances, taken in

conjunction with the gorgeous attire of the gentlemen, their white

gloves, their waistcoats "equal to any emergency" (as Mr. Bouncer had

observed), and the bows of white satin ribbon that gave a festive

appearance to themselves, their carriage-horses, and postilions -

sufficiently proclaimed the fact that a wedding - and that, too, a

double one - was at hand.

The assembled crowd had now sufficient to engage their attention, by

the approach of a very special train of carriages, that was brought

to a grand termination by two travelling-carriages, respectively

drawn by four greys, which were decorated with flowers and white

ribbons, and were bestridden by gay postilions in gold-tasseled caps

and scarlet jackets. No wonder that so unusual a procession should

have attracted such an assemblage; no wonder that Old Andrew Graham

(who was there with his well-favoured daughters) should pronounce it

"a brae sight for weak een."

As the clatter of the carriages announced their near approach to

Lasthope Church, Mr. Verdant Green - who had been in the highest

state of excitement, and had distractedly occupied him-

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 311]

self in looking at his watch to see if it was twelve o'clock; in

arranging his Oxford-blue tie; in futilely endeavouring to button his

gloves; in getting ready, for the fiftieth time, the gratuity that

should make the Ruin's heart to leap for joy; in longing for brandy

and water; and in attending to the highly-out-of-place advice of Mr.

Bouncer, relative to the sustaining of his "pecker" - Mr. Verdant

Green was thereupon seized with the fearful apprehension that he had

lost the ring; and, after an agonizing and trembling search in all

his pockets, was only relieved by finding it in his glove (where he

had put it for safety) just as the double bridal procession entered

the church.

Of the proceedings of the next hour or two, Mr. Verdant Green never

had a clear perception. He had a dreamy idea of seeing a bevy of

ladies and gentlemen pouring into the church, in a mingled stream of

bright-coloured silks and satins, and dark-coloured broadcloths, and

lace, and ribbons, and mantles, and opera cloaks, and bouquets; and,

that this bright stream, followed by a rush of dark shepherd's-plaid

waves, surged up the aisle, and, dividing confusedly, shot out from

their centre a blue coat and brass buttons (in which, by the way, was

Mr. Honeywood), on the arms of which were hanging two white-robed

figures, partially shrouded with Honiton-lace veils, and crowned with

orange blossoms.

Mr. Verdant Green has a dim remembrance of the party being marshalled

to their places by a confused clerk, who assigned the wrong brides to

the wrong bridegrooms, and appeared excessively anxious that his

mistake should not be corrected. Mr. Verdant Green also had an idea

that he himself was in that state of mind in which he would passively

have allowed himself to be united to Miss Kitty Honeywood, or to Miss

Letitia Jane Morkin (who was one of Miss Patty's bridesmaids), or to

Mrs. Hannah More, or to the Hottentot Venus, or to any one in the

female shape who might have thought proper to take his bride's place.

Mr. Verdant Green also had a general recollection of making

responses, and feeling much as he did when in for his ~viva voce~

examination at college; and of experiencing a difficulty when called

upon to place the ring on one of the fingers of the white hand held

forth to him, and of his probable selection of the thumb for the

ring's resting place, had not the bride considerately poked out the

proper finger, and assisted him to place the golden circlet in its

assigned position. Mr. Verdant Green had also a misty idea that the

service terminated with kisses, tears, and congratulations; and, that

there was a great deal of writing and signing of names in two

documentary-looking books; and that he had mingled feelings that it

was all over, that he was made very happy, and that he wished he

could forthwith project himself into the middle of the next week.

[312 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

Mr. Verdant Green had also a dozy idea that he was guided into a

carriage by a hand that lay lovingly upon his arm; and, that he shook

a variety of less delicate hands that there were thrust out to him in

hearty northern fashion; and, that the two cracked old bells of

Lasthope Church made a lunatic attempt to ring a wedding peal, and

only succeeded in producing music like to that which attends the

hiving of bees; and, that he jumped into the carriage, amid a burst

of cheering and God-blessings; and, that he heard the carriage-steps

and door shut to with a clang; and that he felt a sensation of being

whirled on by moving figures, and sliding scenery; and, that he found

the carriage tenanted by one other person, and that person, his WIFE.

"My darling wife! My dearest wife! My own wife!" It was all that his

heart could find to say. It was sufficient, for the present, to ring

the tuneful changes on that novel word, and to clasp the little hand

that trembled under its load of happiness, and to press that little

magic circle, out of which the necromancy of Marriage should conjure

such wonders and delights.

The wedding breakfast - which was attended, among others, by Mr. and

Mrs. Poletiss (~nee~ Morkins), and by Charles Larkyns and his wife,

who was now

"The mother of the sweetest little maid

That ever crow'd for kisses,"-

the wedding breakfast, notwithstanding that it was such a substantial

reality, appeared to Mr. Verdant Green's bewildered mind to resemble

somewhat the pageant of a dream. There was the usual spasmodic

gaiety of conversation that is inherent to bridal banquets, and

toasts were proclaimed and honoured, and speeches were made - indeed,

he himself made one, of which he could not recall a word. Sufficient

let it be for our present purpose, therefore, to briefly record the

speech of Mr. Bouncer, who was deputed to return thanks for the

duplicate bodies of bridesmaids.

Mr. Bouncer (who with some difficulty checked his propensity to

indulge in Oriental figurativeness of expression) was understood to

observe, that on interesting occasions like the present, it was the

custom for the youngest groomsman to return thanks on behalf of the

bridesmaids; and that he, not being the youngest, had considered

himself safe from this onerous duty. For though the task was a

pleasing one, yet it was one of fearful responsibility. It was

usually regarded as a sufficiently difficult and hazardous

experiment, when one single gentleman attempted to express the

sentiments of one single lady; but when, as in the present case,

there were ten single ladies, whose unknown opinions had to be

conveyed through the medium of one single gentleman, then the experi-

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 313]

ment became one from which the boldest heart might well shrink. He

confessed that he experienced these emotions of timidity on the

present occasion. (~Cries of "Oh!"~) He felt, that to adequately

discharge the duties entrusted would require the might of an engine

of ten-bridesmaid power. He would say more, but his feelings

overcame him. (~Renewed cries of "Oh!"~) Under these circumstances

he thought that he had better take his leave of the subject,

convinced that the reply to the toast would be most eloquently

conveyed by the speaking eyes of the ten blooming bridesmaids. (~Mr.

Bouncer resumes his seat amid great approbation.~)

Then the brides disappeared, and after a time made their

re-appearance in travelling dresses. Then there were tears and

"doubtful joys," and blessings, and farewells, and the departure of

the two carriages-and-four (under a brisk fire of old shoes) to the

nearest railway station, from whence the happy couples set out, the

one for Paris, the other for the Cumberland Lakes; and it was amid

those romantic lakes, with their mountains and waterfalls, that Mr.

Verdant Green sipped the sweets of the honeymoon, and realized the

stupendous fact that he was a married man.

* * * * * * *

The honeymoon had barely passed, and November had come, when Mr.

Verdant Green was again to be seen in Oxford - a bachelor only in the

University sense of the term, for his wife was with him, and they had

rooms in the High Street. Mr. Bouncer was also there, and had

prevailed upon Verdant to invite his sister Fanny to join them and be

properly chaperoned by Mrs. Verdant. For, that wedding-day in

Northumberland had put an effectual stop to the little gentleman's

determination to refrain from the wedded state, and he could now say

with Benedick, "When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I

should live till I were married." But Miss Fanny Green had looked so

particularly charming in her bridesmaid's dress, that little Mr.

Bouncer was inspired with the notable idea, that he should like to

see her playing first fiddle, and attired in the still more

interesting costume of a bride. On communicating this inspiration

(couched, it must be confessed, in rather extraordinary language) to

Miss Fanny, he found that the young lady was far from averse to

assisting him to carry out his idea; and in further conversation with

her, it was settled that she should follow the example of her sister

Helen (who was "engaged" to the Rev. Josiah Meek, now the rector of a

Worcestershire parish), and consider herself as "engaged" to Mr.

Bouncer. Which facetious idea of the little gentleman's was rendered

the more amusing from its being accepted and agreed to by the

[314 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

young lady's parents and "the Mum." So here was Mr. Bouncer again in

Oxford, an "engaged" man, in company with the object of his

affections, both being prepared as soon as possible to follow the

example of Mr. and Mrs. Verdant Green. Before Verdant could "put on

his gown," certain preliminaries had to be observed. First, he had

to call, as a matter of courtesy, on the head of his College, to whom

he had to show his Testamur, and whose formal permission he requested

that he might put on his gown.

"Oh yes!" replied Dr. Portman, in his monosyllabic tones, as though

he were reading aloud from a child's primer; "oh yes, cer-tain-ly! I

was de-light-ed to know that you had pass-ed and that you have been

such a cred-it to your col-lege. You will o-blige me, if you please,

by pre-sent-ing your-self to the Dean of Arts." And then Dr. Portman

shook hands with Verdant, wished him good morning, and resumed his

favourite study of the Greek particles.

Then, at an appointed hour in the evening, Verdant, in company with

other men of his college, went to the Dean of Arts, who heard them

read through the Thirty-nine Articles, and dismissed them with this

parting intimation - "Now, gentlemen! <VG314.JPG>

I shall expect to see you at the Divinity School in the morning at

ten o'clock. You must come with your bands and gown, and fees; and

be sure, gentlemen, that you do not forget the fees!" So in the

morning Verdant takes Patty to the Schools, and commits her to the

charge of Mr. Bouncer, who conducts her and Miss Fanny to one of the

raised seats in the Convocation House, from whence they will have a

good view of the conferring of Degrees. Mr. Verdant Green finds the

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 315]

precincts of the Schools tenanted by droves of college Butlers,

Porters, and Scouts, hanging about for the usual fees and old gowns,

and carrying blue bags, in which are the new gowns. Then - having

seen that Mr. Robert Filcher is in attendance with his own particular

gown - he struggles through the Pig-market,* thronged with bustling

Bedels and University Marshals, and other officials. Then, as

opportunity offers, he presents himself to the senior Squire Bedel in

Arts, George Valentine Cox, Esq., who sits behind a table, and, in

his polite and scholarly manner, puts the usual questions to him, and

permits him, on the due payment of all the fees, to write his name in

a large book, and to place "Fil. Gen."+ after his autograph. Then

he has to wait some time until the superior Degrees are conferred,

and the Doctors and Masters have taken their seats, and the Proctors

have made their apparently insane promenade.++

Then the Deans come into the ante-chamber to see if the men of their

respective Colleges are duly present, properly dressed, and have

faithfully paid the fees. Then, when the Deans, having

satisfactorily ascertained these facts, have gone back again into the

Convocation House, the Yeoman Bedel rushes forth with his silver

"poker," and summons all the Bachelors, in a very precipitate and far

from impressive manner, with "Now, then, gentlemen! please all of you

to come in! you're wanted!" Then the Bachelors enter the Convocation

House in a troop, and stand in the area, in front of the

Vice-Chancellor and the two Proctors. Then are these young men duly

quizzed by the strangers present, especially by the young ladies,

who, besides noticing their own friends, amuse themselves by picking

out such as they suppose to have been reading men, fast men, or slow

men - taking the face as the index of the mind. We may be sure that

there is a young married lady present who does not indulge in futile

speculations of this sort, but fixes her whole attention on the

figure of Mr. Verdant Green.

Then the Bedel comes with a pile of Testaments, and gives one to each

man; Dr. Bliss, the Registrar of the University, administers to them

the oath, and they kiss the book. Then the Deans present them to the

Vice-Chancellor in a short Latin form; and then the Vice-Chancellor,

standing up uncovered, with the Proctors standing on either side,

addresses them in these words: "Domini, ego admitto vos ad lectionem

cujuslibet libri Logices Aristotelis; et insuper earum Artium, quas

et quatenus per Statuta audivisse tenemini; insuper autoritate mea et

totius universitatis, do vobis potestatem intrandi

---

[* The derivation of this word has already been given. See Part I,

p. 46.]

+ ~i.e.~, Filius Generosi - the son of a gentleman of independent means.

++ See note, Part I, p. 114.

-=-

[316 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

scholas, legendi, disputandi, et reliqua omnia faciendi, quae ad

gradum Baccalaurei in Artibus spectant."

When the Vice-Chancellor has spoken these remarkable words which,

after three years of university reading and expense, grant so much

that has not been asked or wished for, the newly-made Bachelors rush

out of the Convocation House in wild confusion, and stand on one side

to allow the Vice-Chancellarian procession to pass. Then, on

emerging from the Pig-market, they hear St. Mary's bells, which sound

to them sweeter than ever. <VG316.JPG>

Mrs. Verdant Green is especially delighted with her husband's

voluminous bachelor's gown and white-furred hood (articles which Mr.

Robert Filcher, when helping to put them on his master in the

ante-chamber, had declared to be "the most becomingest things as was

ever wore on a gentleman's shoulders"), and forthwith carries him off

to be photographed while the gloss of his new glory is yet upon him.

Of course, Mr. Verdant Green and all the new Bachelors are most

profusely "capped;" and, of course, all this servile homage -

although appreciated at its full worth, and repaid by shillings and

quarts of buttery beer - of course it is most grateful to the

feelings, and is as delightfully intoxicating to the imagination as

any incense of flattery can be.

What a pride does Mr. Verdant Green feel as he takes his bride

through the streets of his beautiful Oxford! how complacently he

conducts her to lunch at the confectioner's who had supplied ~their~

wedding-cake! how he escorts her (under the pretence of making

purchases) to every shop at which he has

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 317]

dealt, that he may gratify his innocent vanity in showing off his

charming bride! how boldly he catches at the merest college

acquaintance, solely that he may have the proud pleasure of

introducing "My wife!"

But what said Mrs. Tester, the bed-maker? "Law bless you, sir!" said

that estimable lady, dabbing her curtseys where there were stops,

like the beats of a conductor's ~baton~ - "Law bless you, sir! I've

bin a wife meself, sir. And I knows your feelings."

And what said Mr. Robert Filcher? "Mr. Verdant Green," said he, "I'm

sorry as how you've done with Oxford, sir, and that we're agoing to

lose you. And this I ~will~ say, sir! if ever there was a gentleman

I were sorry to part with, it's you, sir. But I hopes, sir, that

you've got a wife as'll be a good wife to you, sir; and make you ten

times happier than you've been in Oxford, sir!"

And so say we.

THE END.

<VG317.JPG>