His credibility was rather strongly put to the test as they <VG066-1.JPG> turned into the High Street, when his companion directed his attention to an individual on the opposite side of the street, with a voluminous gown, and enormous cocked hat profusely adorned with gold lace. "I suppose you know who that is, Verdant? No! Why, that's the Bishop of Oxford! Ah, I see, he's a very different-looking man to what you had expected; but then these university robes so change the appearance. That is his official dress, as the Visitor of the Ashmolean!" Mr. Verdant Green having "swallowed" this, his friend was thereby enabled, not only to use up old "sells," but also to draw largely on his invention for new ones. Just then, there came along the street, walking in a sort of young procession, - the Vice-Chancellor, with his Esquire and Yeoman-bedels. The silver maces, carried by these latter gentlemen, made them by far the most showy part of the procession, and accordingly Mr. Larkyns seized the favourable opportunity to point out the foremost bedel, and say, "You see that man with the poker and loose cap? Well, that's the Vice-Chancellor." <VG066-2.JPG> "But what does he walk in procession for?" inquired our freshman. "Ah, poor man!" said Mr. Larkyns, "he's obliged to do it." 'Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,' you know; and he can never go anywhere, or do anything, without carrying that poker, and having the other minor pokers to follow him. They never leave him, not even at night. Two of the pokers stand on each side his bed, and relieve each other every two hours. So, I need hardly say, that he is obliged to be a bachelor." "It must be a very wearisome office," remarked our freshman, who fully believed all that was told to him. "Wearisome, indeed; and that's the reason why they are obliged to change the Vice-Chancellors so often. It would [AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 67] kill most people, only they are always selected for their strength, - and height," he added, as a brilliant idea just struck <VG067-1.JPG> him. They had turned down Magpie Lane, and so by Oriel College, where one of the fire-plug notices had caught Mr. Larkyns' eye. "You see that," he said; "well, that's one of the plates they put up to record the Vice's height. F.P. 7 feet, you see: the initials of his name, - Frederick Plumptre!" "He scarcely seemed so tall as that," said our hero, "though certainly a tall man. But the gown makes a difference, I suppose." "His height was a very lucky thing for him, however," continued Mr. Larkyns; "I dare say when you have heard that it was only those who stood high in the University that were elected to rule it, you little thought of the true meaning of the term?" "I certainly never did," said the freshman, innocently; "but I knew that the customs of Oxford must of course be very different from those of other places."