After hall the dons go to the senior common-room for the sweet and port. At Trinity they have one room for the sweet and another for port. The students, meanwhile, in certain of the colleges, may go for dessert to the college store; that is to say, to a room beneath the hall, where the fancy groceries of the college stock are displayed for sale. There are oranges from Florida and Tangiers, dainty maiden blush apples from New England, figs and dates from the Levant, prunes and prunelles from Italy, candied apricots from France, and the superb English hothouse grapes, more luscious than Silenus ever crushed against his palate. There are sweets, cigarettes, and cigars. All are spread upon the tables like a Venetian painting of abundance; but at either end of the room stand two Oxford scouts, with account-books in their hands. A fellow takes a Tangerine and, with a tap-room gesture, tilts to the scout as if to say, "Here's looking toward you, landlord;" or, "I drink to your bonny blue eyes." But he is not confronted by a publican or barmaid; only a grave underling of the college bursar, who silently records "Brown, orange, 2d.," and looks up to catch the next item. Two other fellows are flipping for cigars, and the second scout is gravely watching their faces to see which way the coin has fallen, recording the outcome without a sign. Some one asks, "How much are chocolate creams, Higgins?" "Three ha'pence for four, sir," is the answer, and the student urges three neighbors to share his penny'orth. The scout records, "Jones, c. c. 1½d." The minuteness of this bookkeeping is characteristic. The weekly battels (bills) always bear a charge of twopence for "salt, etc.;" and once, when I had not ordered anything during an entire day, there was an unspecified charge of a penny in the breakfast column. I asked the butler what it meant. He looked at me horrified. "Why, sir, that is to keep your name on the books." No penny, I suppose, ever filled an office of greater responsibility, and I still can shudder at so narrow an escape. I asked if such elaborate bookkeeping was not very expensive. In America, I said, we should lump the charges and devote the saving to hiring a better chef. He explained that it had always been so managed; that the chef was thought very good, sir; and that by itemizing charges the young gentlemen who wished were enabled to live more cheaply. Obviously, when it costs a penny merely to keep your name on the books, there is need to economize.