All these particulars I gleaned from the rapid delivery of the Welsh rector, who betrayed no little anxiety to discover if I was of the university; how long I had been matriculated; what was my opinion of the schools, and above all, if the same system of extravagance was pursued by the students, and under-graduates. Too cautious to confess myself a freshman, I was therefore compelled to close the inquiry with a simple negative to his early questions, and an avowal of my ignorance in the last particular. The deficiency was, however, readily supplied by an old gentleman, who sat on the other side of the reverend Mr. Jones. I had taken ~118~~ him, in the first instance, for a doctor of laws, physic, or divinity, by the studied neatness of his dress, the powdered head, and ancient appendage of a _queue_; with a measured manner of delivery, joined to an affected solemnity of carriage, and authoritative style. He knew every body, from the Vice-Chancellor to the scout; ran through a long tirade against driving and drinking, which he described as the capital sins of the sons of _Alma Mater_, complimented the old rector on his choice of a college for his son, and concluded with lamenting the great extravagance of the young men of the present day, whose affection for long credit compelled honest tradesmen to make out long bills to meet the loss of interest they sustain by dunning and delay. "Observe, sir," said he, "The youth of England in our happy age! See, to their view what varied pleasure springs, Cards, tennis, hilliards, and ten thousand things; 'Tis theirs the coat with neater grace to wear, Or tie the neckcloth with a royal air: The rapid race of wild expense to run; To drive the tandem or the chaise and one; To float along the Isis, or to fly In haste to Abingdon,--who knows not why? To gaze in shops, and saunter hours away In raising bills, they never think to pay: Then deep carouse, and raise their glee the more, While angry duns assault th' unheeding door, And feed the best old man that ever trod, The merry poacher who defies his God." "You forget the long purses, Sir E--," said our classical Jehu, "which some of the Oxford tradesmen have acquired by these long practices of the university, Sir E--." The little Welsh rector bowed with astonishment, while his rustic scion stared with wild alarm to find himself for the first time in his life in company with a man of title. A wink from coachee accompanied with an action of his _rein angle_ against my side, followed by a suppressed laugh, prepared me ~119~~ for some important communications relative to my fellow traveller. "An old _snyder_,"{6} whispered Jehu, "who was once mayor of Oxford, and they do say was knighted by mistake,--' a thing of shreds and patches,'