the hour was, and took a cup of tea with him and Harvey. He had been greatly interested by what he had heard. Castle's platitudes and party rant, it is true, had wearied him; Ellis's dogmatism had provoked his indignation; while Lambton's polished periods, though more in accordance with his own views, had failed to satisfy him; but Powell's impassioned oratory had fairly carried him away. His views were bolder and more sweeping than any which Wilton had ventured to form, but they awoke a sympathy with oppressed and independent spirits, of which he had been only partially conscious before.

He began to put questions and make remarks, which showed how deeply his feelings had been stirred, and there was a naïveté and freshness in what he said which evidently pleased and interested his hearers. They willingly enough entered into a fresh discussion of the subject, which gradually wandered off into other topics, and lasted so long, that if Wilton's eye had not fortunately caught sight of the clock on the mantelpiece, and perceived that it wanted only ten minutes of midnight, his name would certainly have been entered in the porter's books at Cuthbert's as having knocked in after twelvea mortal offence in the eyes of Dr. Blewitt, the principal. A worthy man was Dr. Blewitt-a specimen of the don of his day—an animal now almost as entirely extinct, as the dodo or the mastodon. He was devoted to the interests of his college, which he honestly believed to be the best college in the University. He also held that his University excelled all other Universities, and that a University excelled all other human institutions. As the

head, therefore, of St. Cuthbert's, he occupied a position, the dignity and importance of which no one could overestimate. He could not be said to "magnify his office," in the sense sometimes applied to St. Paul's phrase, for it was his genuine belief that it would be impossible to do SO. He strove rather to temper the awe, with which men could not but regard him, by good-natured condescension, provided always that those with whom he conversed retained a due sense of his dignity. Should this be outraged, he was wont to express himself in a manner which would utterly crush the offender; but his wrath, after all, was not personal. It was the Principal of St. Cuthbert's that had been insulted; it was his dignity had to be vindicated, not that of Richard Blewitt. So, too, he would willingly have relaxed sometimes in his individual capacity, if he had not held that thereby his office would come to be held cheap. He was a small man in point of stature, but his air of authority made him appear to overtop men who were six inches taller.

"Mr." he is reported to have replied to some undergraduate who made an urgent entreaty to him to relax in his favour one of the college rules, "Mr. as Richard Blewitt, I would willingly grant your request, but as Principal of St. Cuthbert's, I must refuse it." It was currently reported of him, that one evening, at a party in his own house, wishing to show a kindly interest in the lighter topics of the day, he inquired of a lady whether she could play the popular tune of "James Crow;" but the authenticity of the story, we fear, is doubtful.

Two mortal offences were there, against which Dr. Blewitt waged perpetual warfare. One of these was

keeping a dog in college; the other, knocking in after twelve o'clock. Cobbold, in his first term, had been rash enough to be guilty of the former offence, and had domiciled a small black-and-tan terrier in his rooms, in spite of the warnings of his bed-maker and friends. But Cobbold did not venture to be seen in company with the offending animal within the college precincts, and was wont to convey it in and out of his rooms in his coatpocket, the brute's head being concealed by his commoner's gown depending over it. This succeeded for some weeks, until, on one unlucky day, as he was returning from a walk, he encountered the principal in the quadrangle. Cobbold lifted his trencher cap, and was hurrying by, when the doctor called him up, and began making some remarks about the essay which Cobbold had sent in last week, and which, it appeared, had contained many grammatical blunders. Cobbold expressed his contrition, and the interview was nearly concluded, when, all in a moment, Gyp, the terrier, having grown weary of his confinement, began to struggle violently to escape. His master was obliged to put his hands behind him and hold the animal forcibly down; which proceeding Gyp resented by a short, angry bark. Dr. Blewitt, who was just completing the peroration of his speech, started and looked hurriedly round him, and then sternly into Cobbold's face, suspecting that the latter had imitated the barking of a dog by way of jest. Cobbold did his best to preserve his gravity, but he found himself more and more unable to restrain Gyp's excitement; who at length fairly broke prison, and, scrambling out of his master's pocket, began executing a sort of extempore

hornpipe round Dr. Blewitt's legs, every now and then leaping up to seize him, if possible, by the fingers.

"A dog!" screamed the principal at the very top of his shrill voice-"a dog in the quadrangle of St. Cuthbert's -in my own college! I would not have believed it. Whose is it? Where did it come from?" he continued, dodging about to avoid the terrier's advances. "Porter, porter, come and turn this animal out, or destroy it, if it resists. It may be mad, for anything I know!"

"Allow me to turn it out, sir," said Cobbold, with ready presence of mind, perceiving that the principal had not discovered the quarter whence Gyp had issued. He caught the dog up by the neck, and hurrying with it through the college gate, gave it in charge of the ostler in a neighbouring inn yard, where he judged it more advisable to keep it during the remainder of the term. Whether or no the principal really was deceived, or considered that, on the whole, the affair would not conduce to the maintenance of his dignity, it is impossible to say; but he made no further reference to the matter.

Wilton knew that the sin of knocking in after twelve was, next to that of keeping a dog, the heaviest of which he could be guilty, and he therefore hurried with all speed to St. Cuthbert's, reaching his staircase just as the clock struck twelve. Before his departure his two new friends had agreed to propose and second him for admission to a private debating society, which met once a week at the rooms of the various members, when all kinds of questions in law, politics, theology, and science were freely discussed. There were hardly twenty members belonging to it at that time resident in Oxford; but among these