College Days at Oxford, etc

Front matter

" YOU MAY BE ASSURED OP HER CONSENT." COLLEGE DAYS AT OXFORD. BY THE Rev. H. C. ADAMS, M.A., Vicar of Dry Sandford, Berks., AUTHOR OF "HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPES," "SCHOOLBOY HONOUR, ETC. The young man lifted his earnest eyes — ' Oh, tell me, my father, for thou art wise, Is it better to live till the set of sun, Or to die, when the morn hath but scarce begun The old man sighed, and he shook his head ; * I cannot tell thee, my son,' he said. ' But whether thy days be many or few, Do thou the work that thou hast to do. For him, who his Master obeys and fears The butterfly's hour is a thousand years. For the service of sin, and for idle sport, The thousand years of the oak are nought." IVITH SIX ILL USTRA TIONS BY J. LA WSON. GRIFFITH AND FARRAN, (SUCCESSORS TO NEWBERV AND HARRIS) WEST CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON E. P. DUTTON AND CO., NEW YORK. {The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved.') DEDICATION I. Queen of the Cherwell's lily-bordered shore, Magdalen, thou peerless gem in Oxford's crown !

In modern age, not less than days of yore, How many are thy sons of high renown ! From thy grey pinnacles and turrets hoar, The glories of the Past look proudly down. Historian, statesman, scholar, bard, divine- — ■ Search every clime and age, what praise can equal thine ? II. Full in the front, how stately soars thy Tower, The first great work by Wolsey's hand essayed ! How calm thy greenwood-walk's o'erarching bower, Where Collins mused, and Addison has strayed ! How grand thine Hall, where, spite the frown of power, Hough and his liegemen nobly disobeyed ! How dear thy shrine, where Horne and Hammond prayed, Beneath whose marble floor the dust of Routh is laid! Dedication. VI Long III. To those loved friends — friends of life's earlier hours; Whose glow still lights the gathering eventide, In the sweet shelter of thy classic bowers, Who grew to thoughtful manhood at my side, With me in prime of youth's exultant powers Swung the light bat, the lusty oar who plied, Or in the quiet of thy Cloister's pale, Drank deep of learning's fount, I dedicate this tale.

IV. Perchance the varying scenes that it portrays, Some gentle memories of those times may wake. Past joys shine brighter through the softening haze, Past sorrows stir not now the old heartache. If aught we suffered in those early days, We may forgive it, sure, for old sake's sake. What words can cheer the heart, or melt the foe, Like those " we once were friends in the sweet Ago " ? CONTE NTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. A Lark across Country ... ... ... i II. The Three Harchesters ... ... 17 III. First Two Years — Osborne and Wardleigh 31 IV. First Two Years — Wilton ... ... 47 V. A Tutor's Breakfast-Party ... ... 64 VI. A Debate at the Union ... ... 79 VII. Responsions ... ... ... ... 96 VIII. Ashburnham's Wine ... ... ... 112 IX. A Strange Visitor... ... ... ... 128 X. The Steeple-Chase ... ... ... 144 XI.

Chapter I

A LARK ACROSS COUNTRY, was the afternoon of a May day in the year 1843. Just on the outskirts of the classic village of Cumnor, on the road leading to Eynsham, two young men were riding to- T gether. Their age, dress, and general appearance would have left no doubt in the mind of any one who encountered them, that they were undergraduates from the University of Oxford, some four miles distant. The taller of them, who was addressed by his companion as Wilton, or occasionally as Gerald, had a bright, intelligent face, and every word and gesture showed the gentleman. But his appearance, though prepossessing, was not equal to that of his fellow-student — an unusually handsome man, with dark-brown curling hair, and a frank, open smile, the influence of which few could have resisted. ■Vu. He was dressed with that careless ease which belongs only to the man of birth and breeding, being beyond the reach of the tailor's art, and he sat his horse with the grace of a perfect cavalier.

They had ridden evidently at a sharp pace from Oxford, and seemed anxious to reach some place as speedily as possible. Yet when they approached the top of the descent, which lies at a short distance beyond the village, they drew rein, and looked, with some in decision, about them. There are few lovelier views in the midland counties than that which is to be seen from the summit of the steep hill, known in those parts by the sobriquet of " Tumble-Down Dick." On the right, rise the wooded slopes of Wytham, running eastward to Botley. In the far west, the Berkshire Downs are clearly visible on a fine day, like a soft cloud on the verge of the horizon. In front, facing the north, appears a wide and fertile plain, with Eynsham and South Leigh in the foreground, and running far back to the distant uplands of Gloucester shire.

The Isis is not visible from this point, though its course may be traced by the rows of willows and other trees which fringe its banks. The young men looked about them in evident per plexity, mingled, in the instance of the second named of the two, with some annoyance, rarely seen on his good humoured face. " It is tiresome of these fellows," he said, presently, " to have gone off in this way without us. Ashburnham knew quite well that I, at all events, in tended to join the party, and he might have had the civility to wait ten minutes." " His Majesty is not much given to waiting," returned A La rk across Country. 3 Wilton. " He always puts me in mind of the famous story of Louis XIV., when he addressed his courtiers with ' I have very nearly been obliged to wait' " "Ashburnham is not Louis XIV., Wilton," said the other.

" No," rejoined Wilton, "nor is Austin Wardleigh one of his courtiers. I don't think you are very well suited for that sort of thing, Austin ; and to do Ashburnham justice, I think he could hardly look for it. But you ought to remember that it is my cousin, Tom Pilkington, who is the most, if not the only one, to blame. He promised to call for me ; and, I suppose, forgot it." "Yes," said Wardleigh, "or else took it for granted that we knew the ground where the course had been marked out — forgetting, or possibly not knowing, that it had been kept a profound secret, except from some half dozen fellows." " Well, we mustn't blame him," observed AVilton. " He is a good fellow, and I have no doubt has had plenty to think of to-day. I hope he may win, with all my heart." " So do I," said Wardleigh ; " and I think he will, too.

He is at least as good a rider as Sheringham, let fellows say what they will ; and Chance has more last than Tear away, though not so much speed for the first mile of the course. Yes, for Tom's sake, as well as for Cradock's, who is my particular friend, I hope Chance may win." " And if there were no other reason, we should both like to see that snob Bristowe sold, who has betted awfully on Tearaway." " Bristowe, Dick Bristowe," repeated Wardleigh. "Ay, we don't like him overmuch, do we, Gerald ? But you must remember that, anyhow, he hasn't done anything to complain of for a long time now." " I don't fancy that he has had the chance of doing anything," said Wilton. " I know you will never believe harm of any one, Austin. You wouldn't believe that a fellow had picked your pocket, unless you caught him with his hand in it.

Well, it's the best side of the two to be wrong on. But if you stand up for Bristowe, I really can't go along with you. Just remember his conduct to old John Osborne." "That was bad enough, certainly," said Wardleigh. " But Osborne has forgiven him that, I'll be bound." " Forgiven him, yes," said Wilton. " He is not the fellow to bear malice. But he thinks no good of him, notwithstanding; and he is not often out in his judgment." " No," assented Wardleigh. " He is one of those fellows whom their mothers expect to become Chancellor, or Archbishop, or that sort of thing." " Their mothers think that of ninety-nine out of a hundred," said Wilton, with a smile. " Ay," said Wardleigh ; " but John is the hundredth fellow, or perhaps, I should say, the thousandth, who makes the prediction good. I never saw a fellow to equal him.

You remember that day at Harchester, Gerald, when there was that row with the snobs ? " " I should think I did. Osborne wouldn't take any part in the shindy, until he saw Paul Hanson set upon by the bargees, and in danger of being half killed. Then he fought like a dragon, and got Paul off." " Yes," assented Wardleigh ; " and he got caught by Winterton in the thick of the scrimmage, and they couldn't pump a word out of him. He was very nearly getting into an awful scrape, only Paul found it out, and went and told, himself. That was just John But, I say," he added, breaking suddenly off, and pointing with his riding-whip to a clump of trees lying to the left of Eynsham, " what is that I see waving there, against the green? It must be one of the flags marking the course. If we can only get there, we may be in time now."

"Hardly," said Wilton. "It is getting near three o'clock." " Wants a quarter," said Wardleigh. " Anyhow, we can try. Which is the nearest way, I wonder ? " " I can tell you that, I believe," said Wilton. " To get to the point where that flag is, we must cross the river at Bablock Hythe. We shall have to go down to the bottom of the hill, and strike to the left, all along the river's bank there." " That will be an awful distance. We shan't get in time that way. Can't we cut straight across country to the ferry ? " "It is not for me to object," said Wilton, laughing. " We are riding your horses, not mine." " Horses," repeated Wardleigh ; " they are all right. Schacabac is a first-rate fencer, and Lady Loo will do anything we are likely to meet." " I'm your man, then," said Wilton. " We had better go across the grass field there, and through the open gate beyond.

There seems to be a cart track along there." Turning their horses back a few paces, they leaped a hedge into a large meadow, and made for the gate pointed out. This passed, they found themselves in a barley-field; but the path ran across it, so that they did no damage to the young crop. One or two more fields followed, either fallow, or meadows where sheep were feeding. But at the end of these they came to a pretty high fence, on leaping which they found themselves in a field, where a number of men were hoeing wheat. Here they were greeted with a shout requiring them to stop. " What be thee doing here ? " cried a stout individual attired in a drab coat and breeches, with a broad wide awake hat, who came running up with all the speed of which he was capable, and a countenance fiery red with indignation.

" What does thee do here a-riding over my crops, I should like to know ? " " My worthy friend," returned Wardleigh, "our object is to make our way across country as quickly as possible, to join some of our party out yonder, and we have not ridden over your crops." " Thee haven't ? I say thee have," retorted the angry protectionist. " I tell 'ee I knows 'ee." " That is a most pleasant surprise to us," remarked Wilton. " We were not aware that we had ever met before." " Come, none of thy cheek, lad. But just be pleased, both on ye, to give me your name and address, that I may have ye up before the magistrates for this." " My good old gentleman," said Wardleigh, " if you know us — as according to your own statement you do — you cannot require to be told our names and address. Come, Wilton, I think we had better bid this worthy citizen good afternoon.

If we ride through the gate into the meadow there, we shall be able to make our way into the road beyond, I expect. Au revoir, my friend," he added, lifting his hat politely to the farmer. " Don't trouble yourself any further about us, I beg." So saying, he put spurs into Lady Loo, and galloped off, followed by Wilton, through the gate to which he had referred, and which led, as the reader has been told, into a meadow, where some horses were grazing. This proceeding appeared to rouse the farmer's wrath to the utmost. " Hallo ! " he shouted, " I ain't going to stand this. Don't think it. Here, Willum, shut that gate ; and do all you take your spades and come along with me. We'll soon bring these 'varsity chaps to their marrow-bones, I'll go bail for it. They don't know where they's got to, I judge, or they wouldn't talk so big."

The two young Oxonians did, indeed, find themselves in a position of more difficulty than they had anticipated. The meadow which they had now entered, and which, as Wardleigh had rightly conjectured, adjoined the high road, was on that side fenced by a broad ditch, and a high wooden paling beyond. The latter, even without the ditch, would have been a stiffish jump, and the ground was so low and swampy as to render any leap difficult. Wardleigh, reckless as he ordinarily was, did not venture to put Lady Loo at it. He and Wilton rode along the whole length of the field, followed by the farmer and his men, who repeatedly shouted to them to stop, though no attention was paid to their cries. " I say, what's to be done, Austin?" said Wilton, when they had reached the furthest corner, without finding any place at which an exit could be attempted.

" I suppose we must try to come to terms with these fellows, mustn't we ? There is no way out that I can see ; they have shut the gate, and there are two or three fellows standing against it." " No, no," answered Wardleigh ; " never say die. We are not going to let these fellows get the better of us. We can't leap that fence and ditch, that's certain. I doubt whether Schacabac could do it, and certainly Lady Loo couldn't. But do you see that post and rail into the next field? The hedge is lower just there, and I think we can clear it." " I dare say," said Wilton ; " but shall we be any the better, if we do ? I suppose this fence runs along that field also, doesn't it, and the ditch too ? " " I don't think it does," said Wardleigh. " Anyhow, we couldn't be worse off, and might be better." " But there are two men standing right in front of it," said Wilton.

" We couldn't very well get by them ; and these fellows cut at you with a spade without the smallest compunction. It would be no joke getting a lick over the head with one. I really think we had better come to terms with the enemy, Austin." " Not a bit of it, Gerald," persisted Wardleigh. " I am not going to be done by these bumpkins, I can tell you. Look here. We'll ride near them, and make a feint, as though we were going to attempt the leap further down ; and as soon as we have drawn them away, we'll make a rush for it." Wilton assented. He was as heedless as men of his age generally are, and the fun of the thing was growing upon him. The spectacle of Farmer Hodge and his men, as they rushed up and down the field in their vain attempts to overtake the horsemen, was ludicrous enough, no doubt.

The movements of the bucolics were more energetic than graceful, and the farmer himself, with his rubicund visage one mass of perspiration and fury, might have moved the mirth of a much more staid person than either of our friends. Having paused at the further end of the field for a few minutes to breathe their horses, Wardleigh and Wilton now proceeded to put their scheme in operation. Riding at full speed to a spot about thirty yards distant from the post and rails, Wilton spurred his horse as though he were intending to leap the fence at that point, while Wardleigh halted at some distance behind him with the evident intention of following him, if he should accomplish the leap. The two men instantly rushed up to intercept him. Wardleigh, taking advantage of the opportunity, galloped up to the post and rails, which he cleared in gallant style, and shouted a moment afterwards to his friend to tell him it was all right — he had gained the road.

The farmer's wrath had now reached boiling point. " One of the young jockeys," as he phrased it, had escaped; but "he was jiggered if the other should. He'd find them out yet, and have them up, as sure as his name was Hodge, he would !" Another and most formidable accession to the ranks of the enemy now appeared in the person of the farmer's son, a stout young fellow of two and twenty, mounted on his father's own hack, a strong, serviceable beast — not equal in speed to Schacabac, no doubt ; but still fleet enough to hamper the Oxonian's manœuvres. He began following Wilton's movements closely, while the men, by the farmer's directions, ranged themselves in front of the post and rail on one side, and the entrance gate on the other — the only two points by which, it appeared, there was any escape from the meadow.

AA'ilton began to feel uncomfortable. The notion of compromising matters with Mr. Hodge did not commend itself to him now. The farmer had evidently grown very angry. It was doubtful whether he would accept any compensation for the damage presumed to have been done. It was as likely as not that he would insist on summoning the young Oxonian before the magistrates for the trespass ; and this procedure, which would have been no great injury to Wardleigh, would be most damaging to him, as well as expensive, and AA'ilton was a very poor man. But what was to be done? The farmer and his men were evidently prepared to intercept him, and the farmer's son followed him pertinaciously about. Schacabac was getting very fidgety, and might become restive, in which case he would soon be at the mercy of his enemies.

Gerald took another look at the ditch and the oak paling beyond. It was a difficult leap> no doubt ; but he had gone over as bad in the excitement of the hunting-field, and thought it no great matter. He caught sight, too, at the moment, of a hard piece of gravelly ground, running to the edge of the ditch, where there had once been apparently a road into the field. This would at least give Schacabac a firm footing for his leap. AVell, he would try it. If the horse came down, he couldn't help it. Anything was better than being caught, and had up before the Vice-Chancellor. He turned short off towards the other side of the field, and A La7'k across Country. 11 drew his pursuers after him. Then he again turned, and cantered gently till within a short distance of the ditch. Here, putting Schacabac to his speed, he rode him straight at the fence, touching him with the spur at the moment when he reached the gravel.

The spirited animal rose gallantly to the leap, and succeeded in clearing the fence ; though so narrowly that his hind feet actually scraped against the boards. But he alighted safe on the soft turf of the lane, and that was all that was needed. " Hurrah ! " " Bravo ! " " Not so bad, that," shouted a chorus of voices. " That was a very tolerable stroke of business," ex claimed some one close at hand. " AVell done, Gerald ! Proud to be your cousin, sir." AA'ilton looked hurriedly round, and found himself in the presence of a dozen men of his own college, who were evidently returning to Oxford after the race, which they had gone out to witness. "That was a very tolerable stroke of business," repeated the speaker, in whom AVilton recognized his cousin Pilk ington. " Gentlemen, you see what it is to have been born of a Pilkington, and taught by a Pilkington !

I have departed from Cuthbert's, but Gerald will maintain the family honour." "Much obliged by your compliments, Tom," said AVilton. "I hope you have been maintaining the ' family honour ' yourself? " Pilkington looked a little, a very little, discomposed, and another of the party answered for him in a sarcastic tone. " I regret to say there has been a trifling mistake. Misunderstandings will happen sometimes, and our friend here has come in No. 2, instead of No. 1." "It wasn't his fault," said a third. "You know it wasn't, Bristowe." " I didn't say it was, Hunt," observed Bristowe. " It never is a man's fault, I believe. I only mentioned the fact that Pilkington came in second, instead of first." " He would have been first, if it hadn't been for an accident — if, indeed, it was an accident," said Hunt.

"The best rider in the world must have lost the race under such circumstances. You know that quite well yourself." "Do I ? " said Bristowe, coolly. Hunt would have retorted still more angrily ; but another of the party, a tall, handsome man, riding a splendid chestnut mare, interposed. " There is no good in discussing that matter now. Nobody knows who the fellow was, or where he came from, or what has become of him. It might have been unintentional ; and unless it could be proved that it wasn't, it must be assumed to have been so. AA'e all thought the judge's decision right, I believe — Pilkington and all." " There is no doubt he was right," said Pilkington. " I may have my own opinion about the matter, but as I couldn't prove it, I don't mean to bring it forward." "Very well, then," said Ashburnham, as the former speaker was called.

" Then there only remains the question of another match between the horses, and that we are going to settle in my rooms this evening. By the way, I hope you will come, AA'ardleigh, and you, AVilton," he added, bowing civilly as he spoke. "You were not on the ground, or I should have asked you, of course, to meet your cousin." AVardleigh accepted instantly, and AVilton, after a moment's hesitation, did the same. The invitation came upon him quite unexpectedly. Ashburnham was the great man of the college, not remarkable for any extraordinary ability, or for any great quality or accomplish ment, or for anything, indeed, but a distinguished exterior and a general assumption of superiority, which, for some unexplained reason, every one seemed to acknowledge. He was indolent, extravagant, and self-indulgent beyond any man in St Cuthbert's. But his acquaintance was nevertheless considered by all as the blue ribbon of the college.

He seldom or never made advances to any one, which were not eagerly welcomed. Gerald AVilton knew that Ashburnham was not a desirable companion for him. He could not afford to go Ashburnham's pace, as the phrase runs ; and ought, in the first place, to have been unwilling to accept civilities which he could not requite. But AA'ilton had his weaknesses, as the reader will hereafter discover ; and among these was the desire of being intimate with men whose society was generally sought. It had vexed him somewhat that Ash burnham had never before asked him to his rooms ; and though the invitation now given was more civility to Pilkington than himself, AVilton, nevertheless, though with some misgivings, accepted it. The party now proceeded homewards : some one or two of them, as they rode up the lane, exchanging ameni ties with the worthy Farmer Hodge and his men; who had been utterly dumbfoundered at AVilton's leap, and were now collected together, staring over the fence at the party with eyes of stupid wonder.

" Good-bye, farmer," said Jerry Cobbold, the wag of the party, lifting his hat. " Our compliments to your wife and family. AA'e'll look in some day before long, and take an early dinner, tell her." "I'm sorry we. couldn't stop just now," added AVard leigh, " but my friend here and I were in a hurry, you see. That wasn't a bad leap now, was it ? " " Well, no, it warn't," said the farmer. " I must say that it warn't, and I shouldn't mind having the horse that did it for my own. He ain't a bad 'un, nor the gent that rode him neither. And I don't suppose there ain't so much harm done, after all ; and if so be, gentlemen," he continued, noticing the smile which was beginning to irradiate the faces of his hearers, " if so be as you likes to come in now, and take a glass of my best ale all round, why, you'll be welcome."

This proposal was received with a general shout of applause. " Bravo ! Mr. Hodge," said Ashburnham. " I for one shall be very happy to accept your invitation." "And so shall I," said AVardleigh. "And if we have done your field any damage, we shall be quite willing to pay for it." " Never mind that, sir," said the farmer. " It will be all growed out in a week, I don't doubt ; and if it ain't, I shan't begridge it." They went round accordingly to the farm-yard, and there alighting, were entertained by Mr. Hodge with a jug of his best home-brewed ; after which they rode off— at a rather sharp pace now, as the college dinner hour was getting near at hand. AVilton joined himself on to Hunt, with whom he was more intimate than with any other of the party, and re quested him to give him some account of the race ; which it appeared his cousin Pilkington had lost, though it would seem in some unexpected manner.

" It was a rum business," said Hunt, " and that's a fact, as the Yankees say. You know the odds were slightly on Pilkington ? " " Yes. If I had betted, it would have been on him," returned AVilton. " He is to my mind the best rider ; and if there is any difference between the horses, it is in favour of Chance." " I should be inclined to agree with you on both points," said Hunt. "AVell, they started, and things went much as was expected. Pilkington took the lead, when they had done three-quarters of the course, and was several lengths ahead when they came to the last fence. He was dead sure to win, in fact. But just as old Chance was gathering up her legs for a spring, a fellow started up in the hedge just in front of him. The mare shied, missed the leap, and pipped over, pitching Tom over her ears.

He was on his legs, and on Chance's back again in half no time, but Sheringham was already past the post." "Who was the fellow?" asked AVilton. "He ought to have caught it hot and sharp." " Ay, and so he would have, I expect," rejoined Hunt. " But he was off in a moment, and made for the wood, before any one very well knew what had happened. One or two fellows did try to catch him, but the ground was very awkward, and he was out of sight almost immediately." " And the judge decided that Tom had lost, hey ? " asked AA'ilton. " Yes. I suppose he couldn't have decided anything else. You heard Ashburnham say no one could prove it wasn't an accident, and it is impossible to suppose that Sheringham " " Of course, of course," broke in AVilton. " No one could possibly suspect him of knowing anything about it."

"Just so," said Hunt. "AVell, that being the case, Jack Hand couldn't give it any other way than he did. But Sheringham, who was a good deal annoyed, at once offered to ride it over again." " And what was settled ? " inquired AVilton. " Oh, they agreed that the race must hold good — as regards the bets, you understand. But it is to be determined at Ashburnham's to-night, whether there is to be another race or not. I expect there will be, rather." "And I hope there may be," returned AVilton. "I don't like cousin Tom being done after that fashion, I must say. And I should like this fellow to be caught — that's more." "AVe may hear something about him," said Hunt " Jack Hand was to make all the inquiries he could on the ground, and tell us anything he had learned to-night."