. Mr. Gladstone intellectually always seemed to me a Cambridge
man in his energy, his enthusiasm, his political outlook. Only in his
High Church proclivities is he suspect. The poet Shelley was an obvious
Cantab. He was, we are told, a man of high moral character. Well,
principles and human weakness are common to all Universities, and others
besides Shelley have deserted their wives: but to desert your wife on
principle seems to me callous, calculating, and Cambridge-like.

A painful but interesting case came under my personal observation, and it
illustrates the other side of the question. A clever young graduate of
my acquaintance, after four years of distinguished scholarship at Oxford,
came up to the metropolis and entered the dangerous lists of literature.
It is not indiscreet if I say that he belonged to what was quite a
brilliant little period--the days of Mr. Eric Parker, Mr. Max Beerbohm,
and Mr. Reginald Turner. So there was nothing surprising in his literary
tastes, though I believe he was unknown to those masters of prose. He
was tall, good-looking, and prepossessing, but his Oxford manner was
unusually pronounced. He never expressed disgust--no Oxford man
does--only pained surprise at what displeased him; he never censured the
morals or manners of people as a Cambridge man might have done. Out of
the University pulpit no Oxford man would dream of scolding people for
their morals. After a year of failure he fell into a decline. His
parents became alarmed. They hinted that his ill success was due to his
damned condescension (the father was of course a Cambridge man). I too
suggested in a mild way that a more ingratiating manner might produce
better luck with editors. At last his health broke down, and a wise
family physician was called in. After studying the case for some months,
Aesculapius (he was M.B. of Cambridge) divined that ill success rather
than ill health was the provocative; and he related to the patient (this
is becoming like an Arabian Night) the following story:

'A certain self-made man, confiding to a friend plans for his son's
education, remarked: "Of course I shall send him to Eton." "Why Eton?"
said the friend. "Because he is to be a barrister, and if he did not go
to Eton no one would speak to him if they knew his poor old father was a
self-made man. Then he will go to Cambridge." "Why not Oxford?" said
the friend, who was a self-made Oxford tradesman. "Because then he w