On regaining my inn, I was not a little surprised to hear the smirking barmaid announce me by my christian and surname, directing the waiter to place candles for Mr. Bernard Blackmantle in the _sanctum_. How the deuce, thought I, have these people discovered my family nomenclature, or are we here under the same system of _espionage_ as the puerile inhabitants of France, where every hotel-keeper, waiter, and servant, down to the very shoe-black, is a spy upon your actions, and a creature in the pay of the police{52} "Pray, waiter," said I, "why is this snug little _larium__ designated the sanctum_?" 44 Imposition--translations set by the Principal for absence and other errors. 45 Rustication is the term applied to temporary dismissal for non-observance of college discipline. 46 A little cut--half seas over. 47 Temple of Bacchus--some favourite inn. 48 Plains of Betteris--the diversion of billiards. 49 A spread--a wine party. 50 The Don Peninsula--the range of all who wear long black hanging sleeves, and bear the name of Domini. 51 Seat of magistracy--proctor's authority. 52 The tact of the Oxford tradesmen in this particular is very ingenious.--The strength of a man's account is always regulated by the report they receive on his entering, from some college friend, respecting the wealth of his relations, or the weight of his expectancies. ~143~~ "Because it's extra-proctorial, sir: none of the town _raff_ are ever admitted into it, and the marshal and his bull dogs never think of intruding here. With your leave, sir, I'll send in master--he will explain things better; and mayhap, sir, as you are fresh, he may give you a little useful information." "Do so,--send me in a bottle of old Madeira and two glasses, and tell your master I shall be happy to see him." In a few moments I was honoured with the company of mine host of the Mitre, who, to do him justice, was a more humorous fellow than I had anticipated. Not quite so ceremonious as he of the Christopher at Eton, or the superlative of a Bond-street _restaurateur_; but with an unembarrassed roughness, yet respectful demeanour, that partook more of the sturdy English farmer, or an old weather-beaten sportsman, than the picture I had figured to myself of the polished landlord of the principal inn in the sacred city of learning. We are too much the creatures of prejudice in this life, and first impressions are not unfrequently the first faults which we unthinkingly commit against the reputation of a new acquaintance. Master Peake was, I discovered, a fellow of infinite jest, an old fox-hunter, and a true sportsman; and supposing me, from my introduction by Tom Echo to his house, to be as fond of a good horse, a hard run, and a black bottle, as my friend, he had eagerly sought an opportunity for this early introduction. "No man in the country, sir," said Peake, "can boast of a better horse or a