Then came Wednesday, the day of Encænia, or Commemoration of the Founders and Benefactors. Who that has ever been present in the crowded Sheldonian Theatre can forget the scene? The jostling, pushing, squeezing that begins before ten o’clock, though the proceedings themselves seldom begin before noon; the pause and quiet, till the boldest undergraduate starts the chaff; the grave faces of the officials as they hand the ladies to their seats, half amused, half angry, when told by some wag in the gallery “not to squeeze her hand;” the cheers for everybody and everything that the occasion suggests--“the ladies in pink,” “the ladies in blue,” “the ladies who are engaged;” the groans for this statesman, the cheers for the other, for the ’Varsity Boat Club, the ’Varsity Eleven, the popular Proctors. Then the chaff becomes more personal. “When is the Vice-Chancellor coming?” “Poor old man, he’s nervous.” “Has the Senior Proctor gone to Aylesbury?” (alluding to the Christ-Church grinds and the Senior Proctor’s failure). “_Dissolvimus hanc Convocationem_,” uttered in imitation of the Vice-Chancellor, and causing much amusement among the Masters of Arts and others familiar with the phrase. Just then a very white-headed gentleman enters the area, and is met with shouts of “White hat!” “Turn him out!” For a long time the object of the shouts is perfectly oblivious. At length he puts on his hat, and is of course greeted with “Hats off!” How long the uproar would have continued is hard to say, had not a huge paper fool’s-cap, with D.C.L. written on it, been let down from the gallery. The white-headed gentleman blessed the circumstance. The cap fluttering downwards paused, either by accident or design, exactly opposite one of the galleries where a Master of Arts on duty as Proproctor for the occasion was standing, and was waved gently within a few feet of his face. “Put it on, sir!” now came from all sides of the upper gallery; and somebody leaning from above the Vice-Chancellor’s chair, seizing the opportunity of a second’s lull, said in a sedate voice, “_Admitto te ad gradum Doctoris in jure civili_.” All this time the intended recipient of this most dubious honour was making frantic clutches at the cap, which it is needless to state was bobbed up and down in front of him, while “Let him have it!” “He knows what fits him!” greeted his indignation, which now scarcely knew bounds. He dashed upstairs to find the offender; but, just as his head appeared, the cap dropped into the area, and his efforts to discover the author of the offence were fruitless. The entry of the Vice-Chancellor, followed by the Doctors and Proctors and various distinguished visitors, and the pealing of the organ, turned the thoughts of the undergraduates, and under cover of the music and applause the irate Proproctor beat an ignominious retreat. His conduct was not only unpopular among the undergraduates, but was condemned by senior and junior graduates alike.