It was a Thursday night; and the rooms of the “Union” were crowded, for the debate was to be opened by a popular member. A few men were in the reading-rooms, indifferent to the subject and its mover; a few were in the writing-room, hurrying over their letters, in order to be in time for the “private business,” which is usually the most amusing part of the evening’s proceedings. There were several important telegrams posted in the Hall, and the stopping of members to read them considerably added to the general confusion. Ladies were hurrying upstairs to the little uncomfortable gallery,[9] with amused looks of curiosity, or the calm equanimity of accustomed visitors. No one to-night waited to read, either for edification or for amusement, the endless notices of those private tutors, to whom advertisement seems a dire necessity--those manifestos of all shades, pleading, peremptory, apologetic, confidential, and confident, which suggest the question:--“Where are the pupils, to be instructed by these willing and anxious instructors?” The steward’s room is in possession of two attendants only, for the steward and his indefatigable son are upstairs in the committee-room, in attendance upon the committee. It is eight o’clock, and the debating-room is crammed. Every seat is filled; but those for whom there are not seats are quite content to stand. The gallery is fringed with women’s faces, looking down upon the mass of men below. There is a murmur of suppressed conversation, which suddenly ceases on the cry of “Order.” The president enters, followed by the treasurer, librarian, and most of the members of the committee. He is in evening dress--the exception and not the rule; in his case it is the sign of honour. He has been dining, for the first time, at the High table of the college which has just elected him Fellow. To-night is his first public appearance since his election, and, being a popular man and officer, he is loudly cheered. The officers seat themselves, and in a moment the president rises and proclaims “Order,” and the business of the evening commences. He first reads a list of those members of the University proposed for election, and those already elected, and then calls upon the librarian to bring forth his list of books. That officer, a big-headed, ungainly man, with a squint, hurries through a list, to which prices and particulars are appended, and then asks any, who wish, to challenge any book or books. If any are challenged, they are temporarily withdrawn from the list, and the rest are put to the vote and carried; after which the objections are made to the particular books before challenged, and are met by the librarian with considerable ability, and the books, with one exception, carried. He then rises to propose “That ‘The Gorgon Head’ (much laughter), by Mr. Tennyson Jones, presented by the author to the library, be accepted by the society, and that a vote of thanks be given to the honourable member for his present.”