Every one in a master’s gown received a bow. He was mistaken for a literary man. And once in Oxford, he went, seriously and as if at a ceremony, through a minutely prepared plan. He attended service at one of the churches, and especially St. Mary’s. He took long, repeated walks up and down High Street, and into all the lanes, which he hardly knew when their names had been changed. Then he sat for an hour in the oldest-looking inn. In blessed mood, he tried the landlord unsuccessfully with Latin, and waited until some scholar should call and exchange jests with him in the learned tongue, or perhaps join him in a quarrel with the town. The only scholar that called talked in a strange tongue, chiefly to a bull-pup, and never to him. And late at night he stole reluctantly home, never so much pleased as when, in a dark alley, he was saluted by a proctor, and asked if he might be a member of the University. But the little note inviting him to be at---- College at---- A.M. on the following day never came, and he was cheated of the glory of being the first member of the University who could by no means pay a fine. At the end of this holy day he spent the night with his books, thinking it shame to sleep away the ardent, [Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE HALL, MAGDALEN COLLEGE At the east end of the Hall, facing the spectator, is the daïs and high table, lighted from the north by an oriel window looking into the Cloister Court (see picture of Cloisters). Portraits of College dignitaries adorn the walls above the dado. The long tables and seats in the foreground are used by the undergraduates. ] memoried hours that followed. When sleep caught him at last, with what happiness and pomp he walked down St. Aldate’s and along Blue Boar Street and Merton Street, and came suddenly upon Wren’s domed gate at Queen’s! or paused in St. Mary’s porches, or found the inmost green sanctuary of Wadham Gardens! Once he dreamed that on a Sunday he preached from the little outdoor pulpit at Magdalen, where he mounted by some artifice of sleep’s. The chamber windows and quadrangles were full. His voice rose and linked to him the crowd outside in High Street. All remained silent, even when it was known that the hieroglyphics were skipping from their perches in the cloister and carrying off large numbers, no one knew whither. Those that were spared--and his voice rose ever higher, and expanded like the column and fans of masonry at Christ Church--were stripped of their waistcoats and ties and all their luxuries and dignities. Their hair was shaved: presently they were all cowled, and with a great shout hailed him Chancellor. He floated down from the pulpit and led them down the High, evicting the pampered tradespeople and fettering all parasites. Singing a charging hymn, they marched in procession to St. Mary’s, and thence to a feast at Christ Church hall; when he awoke with the din of revelry.