f other foes to
conquer. Even Mr. Verdant Green felt desperately courageous when the
town took to their heels and vanished.

At Exeter College another town-and-gown fight was raging furiously. The
town mob had come across the Senior Proctor, the Rev. Thomas Tozer; and
while Old Towzer, as he was called, was trying to assert his proctorial
authority over them, they had jeered him, and torn his clothes, and
bespattered him with mud. A small group of gownsmen rushed to his
rescue.

"Oh, this is painful," said the Rev. Thomas Tozer, putting the
handkerchief to his bleeding nose. "This is painful! This is exceedingly
painful, gentlemen!"

He was at once surrounded by sympathising undergraduates, who begged him
to allow them to charge the town at once. But the Town far outnumbered
the Gown, and, in spite of the assistance of the reverend proctor, the
fight was going against them. The Rev. Thomas Tozer had just been
knocked down for the first time in his life, and the cry of "Gown to the
rescue!" fell very pleasantly on his ears. Mr. Verdant Green helped him
to rise, while the Putney Pet stepped before him and struck out right
and left. Ten minutes of scientific pugilism, and the fate of the battle
was decided. The Town fled every way, and the Rev. Thomas Tozer was at
last able to look calmly about him. He at once resumed his proctorial
duties.

"Why have you not on your gown, sir?" he said to the Putney Pet.

"I ax yer pardon, guv'nor," said the Pet deferentially. "I couldn't get
on in it, nohow. So I pocketed it; but some cove has gone and prigged
it."

"I am unable to comprehend the nature of your language, sir," said the
Rev. Thomas Tozer angrily, thinking it was an impudent undergraduate. "I
don't understand you, sir; but I desire at once to know your name and
college."

Mr. Bouncer, however, succeeded in explaining matters to the proctor,
who then congratulated the Pet on having displayed pugilistic powers
worthy of the Xystics of the noblest days of Ancient Rome. Both the Pet
and the undergraduates wondered what a Xystic was, but instead of
inquiring further into the matter, they went to the Roebuck, where,
after a supper of grilled bones and welsh-rabbits, Mr. Verdant Green
gave, "by particular request," his now celebrated song, "The Mar-arble
Halls."

The forehead of the singer was decorated with a patch of brown paper,
from which arose a strong smell of vinegar. But he was not ashamed of
it; indeed, he wo