An amusing sequel occurred a few days later when my mother met Mrs. Wellesley, who told her that, thanks to the cartoon, the Dean had at last discarded the awful hat she had been vainly trying to get rid of for a quarter of a century. I had another early morning experience in pursuit of Dr. James Sewell (Warden of New College, Oxford). I followed him into the college chapel and sat near his stall, but I felt I had not sufficiently impressed his features upon my memory to make a perfectly satisfactory caricature, so I inquired into his customs in hope of finding him again. I discovered that he also was in the habit of taking an early morning walk, and at 8.30 the next day I awaited him at a suitable distance from his door. After getting tired of waiting what seemed a very long time, I knocked at his door and asked the servant if Dr. Sewell was in. "No," he replied; "the Doctor started a _long_ time ago, but he went out by the other door this morning." I felt rather sold, but determined to keep my vigil at an earlier hour the next morning. Accordingly I watched again, and this time saw him come out in all the glory of his beautiful white collar and cravat (which had earned him the nickname of "The Shirt"), and a red handkerchief, as usual, hanging from the pocket of his coat tail. I "stalked" him discreetly, and with success. After a final glimpse of him, walking down one of the paths of the gardens of Oxford, I hurried home to make a note of my observations. During my frequent visits there, I usually stayed at "The Mitre," for I liked the old place. The staircase was crooked with age and the bedroom floors extremely uneven. On the occasion of one of my sojourns in that charming town, I recollected with considerable pleasure a standing invitation from Sir John Stainer, who had invited me, in the event of my coming to Oxford, to dine with him and taste some exceptionally fine old port that had been bequeathed him. I dined with Sir John and tasted the port, and enjoyed a very pleasant evening. Returning to "The Mitre" I went into the coffee-room before retiring, and as I was feeling very fit and in excellent spirits, I entered into conversation with other occupants of the room, one of whom dared me to place a very ripe cheese that was standing on the table in the crown of somebody's silk hat. Being under the impression that it was the hat of my quondam acquaintance, I promptly plunged the cheese into it. After some joking repartee, I retired to bed but could not help noticing how much more crooked the staircase seemed than usual and how the ceiling appeared to be falling. In my bedroom the floor was like the waves of the sea, and I experienced considerable difficulty in reaching land, but after the utmost perseverance I arrived at the bed, where, holding on to the post to ensure my safety, I fell into a perfect sleep. Imagine my surprise when the next morning I found myself lying on the floor fully dressed, with one arm firmly