but a friend of mine at Colney
Hatch assures me he has, and found it a great success. As I think,
therefore, it may prove a boon to your numerous readers, I place it at
your disposal with much pleasure, and have the honour to be, Sir,

Your obedient servant, A CAUTIOUS CARD.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "KEEP THE POT A-BOILING!"]

* * * * *
[Blank Page]

THE CHRISTMAS COLLEGE FAIRY.

CHAPTER I.--_THE STRANGE VISITOR._

On the evening of the 24th of December, 1874, the Senior Dean of St.
Michael's, the Reverend HENRY BURROWES, was sitting in his comfortable
rooms in the Great Court. He had, for reasons of his own, decided
to spend the Christmas Vacation in Cambridge. His bed-maker, Mrs.
JOGGINS, had entered a mild protest, but it been unavailing. Mr.
BURROWES was a man of forbidding aspect and of unbending character.
During the five years that he had held his office, he had enforced
discipline at the point of the bayonet, as it were, and he boasted
with pardonable pride that he had broken the spirit of the haughtiest
and least tractable of the Undergraduates. Everybody had been gated at
eight o'clock. Many had been sent down. Tears and denunciations were
alike unavailing. The ruthless Dean had pursued his course without
flinching. A very mild reading-man had attempted his life by dropping
a Liddell and Scott on to his head from a first-floor room. This
abandoned youth had been screened by his comrades, and had ultimately
escaped in spite of the efforts of the justly incensed Dean.

[Illustration]

It was nine o'clock. The bells at St. Mary's were ringing the
customary curfew. The Dean was seated before the fire in his
arm-chair. An open book, a treatise on some abstruse question of pure
mathematics, lay on the table by his side. He was meditating on his
past exploits, and planning new punishments. But somehow there was
a strange sinking at his heart. What could be the reason of it? The
dinner in hall had been of the usual moderate excellence, he had
only drunk a bottle and a half of claret. "Pshaw," he said, "this is
folly. I have not been severe enough. Conscience reproaches me. I am
unmanned." He rose and paced about the room. At this moment his door
opened, and the familiar figure of Mrs. JOGGINS appeared.

"Beg your pardon, Sir," she said, hesitatingly, "I thought you
called."

"No, Mrs. JOGGINS," said the Dean. "I did not call. Are you not r