glass spectacles, and part of a nose. So far we had no
very sufficient premises from which to draw conclusions, whether or not
he were "one of us." But there were internal evidences; an odour of
Bouquet de Roi, or some such villanous compound, nearly overpowering
the fragrance of some genuine weed which I had supplied my pea-coated
friend with in the place of his Oxford "Havannahs;" a short cough
occasionally, as though the smoke of the said weed were not altogether
"the perfume of the lips he loved;" and a resolute taciturnity. What was
he? It is a lamentable fact, that an Oxford undergraduate does not
invariably look the gentleman. He vibrates between the fashionable
assurance of a London swindler and the modest diffidence of an overgrown
schoolboy. There is usually a degree of unfinishedness about him. He
seems to be assuming a character: unlike the glorious Burschenschaft
of Germany, he has no character of his own. However, for want of more
profitable occupation, we set to work in earnest to discover who our
fellow-traveller really was; and by a series of somewhat American
conversational inquiries, we at last fished out that he was going into
----shire, like ourselves--nay, in answer to a direct question on the
subject, that he hoped to meet Hanmer of Trinity at Glyndewi. But no
further information could we get: our new friend was reserved. Mr
Branling and I had commenced intimacy already. "My name is Branling
of Brazen-nose;" "and mine Hawthorne of ----;" was our concise
introduction. But our companion was the pink of Oxford correctness on
this point. He thanked the porter for putting his luggage up; called me
"Sir," till he found I was an Oxford man; and had we travelled for a
month together, would rather have requested the coachman to introduce
us, than be guilty of any such barbarism as to introduce himself. So by
degrees our intimacy, instead of warming, waxed cold. As night drew on,
and the fire of cigars from Branling, self, and coachman became more
deadly, the fur cap was drawn still closer over the ears, the mackintosh
crept up higher, and we lost sight of all but the outline of the
spectacles.

The abominable twitter of the sparrows in the hedgerows gave notice of
the break of day--to travellers the most dismal of all hours, in my
opinion--when I awoke from the comfortable nap into which I had fallen
since the last change of horses. For some time we alternately dozed,
tumbled against each other, begged pa