"When first the freshman, bashful, blooming, young, Blessings which here attend not handmaids long, Assumes that cap, which franchises the man, And feels beneath the gown dilate his span; When he has stood with modest glance, shy fear, And stiff-starch'd band before our prime vizier, And sworn to articles he scarcely knew, And forsworn doctrines to his creed all new: Through fancy's painted glass he fondly sees Monastic turrets, patriarchal trees, The cloist'ral arches' awe-inspiring shade, The High-street sonnetized by Wordsworth's jade, His raptured view a paradise regards, Nurseling of hope! he builds on paper cards."

On the western side of Tom Quad, up one flight of stairs, by the porter's aid I discovered the battered oaken door which led to the larium of my friend Echo: that this venerable bulwark had sustained many a brave attack from besiegers was visible in the numerous bruises and imprints of hammers, crowbars, and other weapons, which had covered its surface with many an indented scar. The utmost caution was apparent in the wary scout,{1}

who admitted me; a necessary precaution, as I afterwards found, to prevent the prying eye of some inquisitive domine, whose nose has a sort of instinctive attraction in the discovery of smuggled dinners.{2}

Within I found assembled half a dozen good-humoured faces, all young, and all evidently partaking of the high flow of spirits and animated vivacity of the generous hearted Tom Echo. A college introduction is one of little ceremony, the surname alone being used,—a practice, which, to escape quizzing, must also be followed on your card. "Here, old fellows," said Tom, taking me by the hand, and leading me forwards to his companions, "allow me to introduce an ex{3}-college man,—Blackmantle of Brazennose, a freshman{4} and an Etonian: so, lay to him, boys; he's just broke loose from the Land of Sheepishness,{5} passed Pupils Straits{6} and the Isle of Matriculation{7} to follow Dads Will,{8} in the Port of Stuffs{9}; from which, if he can steer clear of the Fields of Temptation{10}

he hopes to make the Land of Promise,{11} anchor his bark in the Isthmus of Grace,{12} and lay up snugly for life on the Land of Incumbents."{13} "For heaven's sake, Tom," said I," speak in some intelligible language; it's hardly fair to fire off your battery of Oxonian wit upon a poor freshman at first sight." At this moment a rap at the oak announced an addition to our party, and in bounded that light-hearted child of whim, Horace Eglantine:—"What, Blackmantle here? Why then, Tom, we can form as complete a trio as ever got bosky{14} with bishop{15} in the province of Bacchus,{16}! Why, what a plague, my old fellow, has given you that rueful-looking countenance? I am sure you was not plucked upon Maro Common or Homer Downs{17} in passing examination with the big wig this morning; or has Tom been frisking{18} you already with some of his jokes about the straits of independency{19}; the waste of ready{20}; the dynasty of Venus,{21} or the quicksands of rustication{22}.

Cheer up, old fellow! you are not half way through the ceremony of initiation yet. We must brighten up that solemn phiz of yours, and give you a lesson or two on college principles? If I had been thrown upon some newly-discovered country, among a race of wild Indians, I could not have been more perplexed and confounded than I now felt in endeavouring to rally, and appear to comprehend this peculiar phraseology.

A conversation now ensuing between a gentleman commoner, whom the party designated Pontius Pilate{23} and Tom Echo, relative to the comparative merits of their hunters, afforded me an opportunity of surveying the larium of my friend; the entrance to which was through a short passage, that served the varied purposes of an ante-room or vestibule, and a scout's pantry and boot-closet. On the right was the sleeping-room, and at the foot of a neat French bed I could perceive the wine bin, surrounded by a regiment of dead men{24} who had, no doubt, departed this life like heroes in some battle of Bacchanalian sculls. The principal chamber, the very penetrale of the Muses, was about six yards square, and low, with a rich carved oaken wainscoting, reaching to the ceiling; the monastic gloom being materially increased by two narrow loopholes, intended for windows, but scarcely yielding sufficient light to enable the student to read his Scapula or Lexicon{25} with the advantage of a meridian sun: the fire-place was immensely wide, emblematical, no doubt, of the capacious stomachs of the good fathers and fellows, the ancient inhabitants of this sanctum; but the most singularly-striking characteristic was the modern decorations, introduced by the present occupant.

Over the fire-place hung a caricature portrait of a well-known Bachelor of Arts, drinking at the Pierian spring, versus gulping down the contents of a Pembroke overman,{26} sketched by the facetious pencil of the humorist, Rowlandson.

ECCÈ SIGNUM.

I could not help laughing to observe on the one side of this jolly personage a portrait of the little female Giovanni Vestris, under which some wag had inscribed, "A Mistress of Hearts," and on the other a full-length of Jackson the pugilist, with this motto—"A striking likeness of a fancy lecturer."

In the centre of the opposite side hung the portrait of an old scout, formerly of Brazennose, whose head now forms the admission ticket to the college club. Right and left were disposed the plaster busts of Aristotle and Cicero; the former noseless, and the latter with his eyes painted black, and a huge pair of mustachios annexed. A few volumes of the Latin and Greek classics were thrown into a heap in one corner of the room, while numerous modern sporting publications usurped their places on the book shelves, richly gilt and bound in calf, but not lettered. The hunting cap, whip, and red coat were hung up like a trophy between two foxes' tails, which served the purpose of bell pulls. At this moment, my topographical observations were disturbed by the arrival of the scout with candles, and two strange-looking fellows in smock frocks, bringing in, as I supposed, a piano forte, but which, upon being placed on the table, proved to be a mere case: the top being taken off, the sides and ends let down in opposite directions, and the cloth pulled out straight, displayed an elegant dinner, smoking hot, and arranged in as much form as if the college butler had superintended the feast. "Come, old fellow," said Tom, "turn to—no ceremony. I hope, Jem," addressing his scout, "you took care that no college telegraph{27} was at work while you were smuggling the dinner in." "I made certain sure of that, sir," said Jem; "for I placed Captain Cook{28} sentinel at one corner of the quadrangle, and old Brady at the other, with directions to whistle, as a signal, if they saw any of the dons upon the look out."

Finding we were not likely to be interrupted by the domine, Tom took the chair. The fellows in the smock frocks threw off their disguises, and proved to be two genteelly dressed waiters from one of the inns. "Close the oak, Jem," said Horace Eglantine, "and take care no one knocks in{29} before we have knocked down the contents of your master's musical melange." "Punning as usual, Eglantine," said the Honourable Mr. Sparkle, a gentleman commoner. "Yes; and pun-ishing too, old fellow!" said Horace. "Where's the cold tankard,{30} Echo?

We must give our old con, Blackmantle, a warm reception." "Sure, that's a Paddyism"{31} said a young Irish student. "Nothing of the sort," replied Horace: "are we not all here the sons of Isis (Ices)? and tell me where will you find a group of warmer hearted souls?" "Bravo! bravo!" shouted the party. "That fellow Eglantine will create another Pun-ic war," said Sparkle. "I move that we have him crossed in the buttery{32} for making us laugh during dinner, to the great injury of our digestive organs, and the danger of suffocation." "What! deprive an Englishman of his right to battel{33}" said Echo: "No; I would sooner inflict the orthodox fine of a double bumper of bishop." "Bravo!" said Horace: "then I plead guilty, and swallow the imposition." "I'll thank you for a cut out of the back of that lion,"{34} tittered a man opposite. With all the natural timidity of the hare whom he thus particularised, I was proceeding to help him, when Echo inquired if he should send me the breast of a swiss {35} and the facetious Eglantine, to increase my confusion, requested to be allowed to cut me a slice off the wing of a wool bird.{36}

To have remonstrated against this species of persecution would, I knew, only increase my difficulties; summoning, therefore, all the gaiety I was master of to my aid, I appeared to participate in the joke, like many a modern rouÉ, laughing in unison without comprehending the essence of the whim, merely because it was the fashion. What a helpless race, old father Etona, are thine (thought I), when first they assume the Oxford man; spite of thy fostering care and classic skill, thy offspring are here little better than cawkers{37} or wild Indians. "Is there no glossary of university wit," said I, "to be purchased here, by which the fresh may be instructed in the art of conversation; no Lexicon Balatronicum of college eloquence, by which the ignorant may be enlightened?" "Plenty, old fellow," said Echo: "old Grose is exploded; but, never fear, I will introduce you to the Dictionnaire Universel,{38} which may always be consulted, at our old grandmammas' in St. Clement's, or Eglantine can introduce you at Vincent's,{39} where better known as the poor curate of H——, crossed the channel.

Soon after his arrival at Paris, as he was walking through the streets of that city, he was accosted by an elegantly dressed Cyprian, to whom he made a profound bow, and told her (in English), that he was not sufficiently acquainted with the French language to comprehend what she had said to him, expressing his regret that he had not his French and English dictionary with him. Scarcely had he pronounced the word dictionary, when the lady, by a most astonishing display, which in England would have disgraced the lowest of the frail sisterhood, exclaimed, "Behold the Dictionnaire Universel, which has been opened by the learned of all nations."{39} Dr. E—, on his return from France, related this anecdote in the common room at ————-, and the Dictionnaire universel has ever since been a standing toast there.

After a dissertation upon new college puddings,{40} rather a choice dish, an elegant dessert and ices was introduced from Jubbers.{41} The glass now circulated freely, and the open-hearted mirth of my companions gave me a tolerable idea of many of the leading eccentricities of a collegian's life. The Oxford toast, the college divinity, was, I found, a Miss W-, whose father is a wealthy horse-dealer, and whom all agreed was a very amiable and beautiful girl. I discovered that Sadler, Randal, and Crabbe were rum ones for prime hacks—that the Esculapii dii of the university, the demi-gods of medicine and surgery, were Messrs. Wall and Tuckwell—that all proctors were tyrants, and their men savage bull dogs—that good wine was seldom to be bought in Oxford by students—and pretty girls were always to be met at Bagley Wood—that rowing a fellow{42} was considered good sport, and an idle master{43} a jolly dog—that all tradesmen were duns, and all gownsmen suffering innocents—and lastly.

I was informed that a freshman was a scamp without seasoning—and a fellow of no spirit till he had been pulled up before the big wig and suffered imposition{44} fine, and rustication.{45}

It was now half an hour since old Magnus Thomas had tolled his heavy note, most of the party were a little cut,{46} and the salt pits of attic wit had long since been drained to the very bottom—Sparkle proposed an adjournment to the Temple of Bacchus,{47} while Echo and a man of Trinity set forth for the plains of Betteris.{48} Pleading the fatigues of the day, and promising to attend a spread{49} on the morrow to be given by Horace Eglantine, I was permitted to depart to my inn, having first received a caution from Echo to steer clear of the Don Peninsula{50} and the seat of magistracy.{51}

On regaining my inn, I was not a little surprised to hear the smirking barmaid announce me by my christian and surname, directing the waiter to place candles for Mr. Bernard Blackmantle in the sanctum. How the deuce, thought I, have these people discovered my family nomenclature, or are we here under the same system of espionage as the puerile inhabitants of France, where every hotel-keeper, waiter, and servant, down to the very shoe-black, is a spy upon your actions, and a creature in the pay of the police{52} "Pray, waiter," said I, "why is this snug little _larium__ designated the sanctum_?"

"Because it's extra-proctorial, sir: none of the town raff are ever admitted into it, and the marshal and his bull dogs never think of intruding here. With your leave, sir, I'll send in master—he will explain things better; and mayhap, sir, as you are fresh, he may give you a little useful information." "Do so,—send me in a bottle of old Madeira and two glasses, and tell your master I shall be happy to see him." In a few moments I was honoured with the company of mine host of the Mitre, who, to do him justice, was a more humorous fellow than I had anticipated. Not quite so ceremonious as he of the Christopher at Eton, or the superlative of a Bond-street restaurateur; but with an unembarrassed roughness, yet respectful demeanour, that partook more of the sturdy English farmer, or an old weather-beaten sportsman, than the picture I had figured to myself of the polished landlord of the principal inn in the sacred city of learning. We are too much the creatures of prejudice in this life, and first impressions are not unfrequently the first faults which we unthinkingly commit against the reputation of a new acquaintance. Master Peake was, I discovered, a fellow of infinite jest, an old fox-hunter, and a true sportsman; and supposing me, from my introduction by Tom Echo to his house, to be as fond of a good horse, a hard run, and a black bottle, as my friend, he had eagerly sought an opportunity for this early introduction. "No man in the country, sir," said Peake, "can boast of a better horse or a better wife: I always leave the management of the bishop's cap to the petticoat; for look ye, sir, gown against gown is the true orthodox system, I believe.—When I kept the Blue Pig{53} by the Town Hall, the big wigs used to grunt a little now and then about the gemmen of the university getting bosky in a pig-sty; so, egad, I thought I would fix them at last, and removed here; for I knew it would be deemed sacrilegious to attack the mitre, or hazard a pun upon the head of the church.

If ever you should be tiled up in Eager heaven,{54} there's not a kinder hearted soul in Christendom than Mrs. Peake: Dr. Wall says that he thinks she has saved more gentlemen's lives in this university by good nursing and sending them niceties, than all the material medicals put together. You'll excuse me, sir, but as you are fresh, take care to avoid the gulls{55}; they fly about here in large flocks, I assure you, and do no little mischief at times." "I never understood that gulls were birds of prey," said I.—"Only in Oxford, sir; and here, I assure you, they bite like hawks, and pick many a poor young gentleman as bare before his three years are expired, as the crows would a dead sheep upon a common. Every thing depends upon your obtaining an honest scout, and that's a sort of haro ravis (I think they call the bird) here." Suppressing my laughter at my host's Latinity, I thought this a fair opportunity to make some inquiries relative to this important officer in a college establishment.

"I suppose you know most of these ambassadors of the togati belonging to the different colleges'?" "I think I do, sir," said Peake, "if you mean the scouts; but I never heard them called by that name before. If you are of Christ Church, I should recommend Dick Cook, or, as he is generally called, Gentleman Cook, as the most finished, spritely, honest fellow of the whole. Dick's a trump, and no telegraph,—up to every frisk, and down to every move of the domini, thorough bred, and no want of courage?"

"But not having the honour of being entered there, I cannot avail myself of Dick's services: pray tell me, who is there at Brazennose that a young fellow can make a confidant of?" "Why, the very best old fellow in the world,—nothing like him in Oxford,—rather aged, to be sure, but a good one to go, and a rum one to look at;—I have known Mark Supple these fifty years, and never heard a gentleman give him a bad word: shall I send for him, sir? he's the very man to put you up to a thing or two, and finish you off in prime style." "In the morning, I'll see him, and if he answers your recommendation, engage with him: "for, thought I, such a man will be very essential, if it is only to act as interpreter to a young novice like myself.

The conversation now turned to sporting varieties, by which I discovered mine host was a leading character in the neighbouring hunts; knew every sportsman in the field, and in the course of half an hour, carried me over Godrington's manors, Moystoris district, and Somerset range,{56} taking many a bold leap in his progress, and never losing sight of the dogs. "We shall try your mettle, sir," said he, "if we catch you out for a day's sport; and if you are not quite mounted at present to your mind, I have always a spare nag in the stable for the use of a freshman."

Though I did not relish the concluding appellation, coming from a tavern-keeper, I could not help thanking Peake for his liberal offer; yet without any intention of risking my neck in a steeple chase. The interview had, however, been productive of some amusement and considerable information. The bottle was now nearly finished; filling my last glass, I drank success to the Mitre, promised to patronise the landlord, praise the hostess, coquet with the little cherry-cheek, chirping lass in the bar, and kiss as many of the chamber-maids as I could persuade to let me. Wishing mine host a good night, and ringing for my bed-candle, I proceeded to put the last part of my promise into immediate execution.