I think that I was fortunate in having to struggle for my blue during my last term, for this gave me so much to think about that I escaped some of the feelings which Fred had about leaving Oxford. I felt that I was by no means ready to go, but I was also desperately eager to get into the XI., and that I knew would not be decided until the term was over. One leaves Oxford slowly, if I may express it so; you have to come back for a _viva voce_, and then for your degree; there is no abrupt break as there is at school, and the fact that I was playing for the 'Varsity after the term was over, helped me more than it did Fred, who had played in the XI. for three years. Nearly every Sunday afternoon during May and June, Fred and I quite solemnly went out for a walk together, and we nearly always found ourselves by the river. I believe this was because we were never tired of looking at Corpus and Merton from the Christchurch meadows. There is no view so keenly rooted in my memory as this, nor one which I am so glad to look upon again. I don't care in the least whether it is the most beautiful in Oxford or not, for it means something to me, and you can ask no more from a view than that. I can never look at it without remembering many things which were all of them very pleasant, and Oxford is the place to build up memories. The term slipped by far too fast, and we found ourselves plunged into the schools. For once in my life I should have been glad not to see the sun, but the week during which we had to put on paper the results of over two years' work was most cruelly hot, and all of us were glad when it was over. It is no use guessing how you have done in honour schools, for those who think they have got a first are too often surprised when the lists come out, and unless you are going to guess something nice, it is much better to leave it alone altogether. With one consent Fred, Jack and I refused to talk about our chances, and set out to enjoy the few days which remained to us without being harrowed by doubts and fears. I did, however, have secret dips into a political economy book, for I thought if the examiners shared my opinion they would wonder how little of this subject I knew. I couldn't keep away from the wretched thing, try as I would, and was always reading "Adam Smith" and "Walker" at odd moments. I think my nerves must have been upset.