e in the form of Hermae, and were planned by no
less an architect than Sir Christopher Wren. When I asked what they
were meant for, I was assured quite seriously that they were images of
former Heads of Houses. I believed it, though I expressed my surprise
that the stone-mason who made new heads, when the old showed hardly
more than two eyes and a nose, and a very wide mouth, should carefully
copy the crumbling faces, because, as I was informed, he had been told
to copy the former gentlemen.

It was certainly a very common amusement of my young undergraduate
friends to make fun of the Heads of Houses. They did not seem to feel
that shiver of unspeakable awe for them of which Bishop Thorold
speaks; nay, they were anything but respectful in speaking of the
Doctors of Divinity in their red gowns with black velvet sleeves. If
it is difficult for old men always to understand young men, it is
certainly even more difficult for young men to understand old men.
There is a very old saying, "Young men think that old men are fools,
but old men know that young men are." Though very young myself, I came
to know several of the old Heads of Houses, and though they certainly
had their peculiarities, they did by no means all belong to the age of
the Dodo. They were enjoying their _otium cum dignitate_, as befits
gentlemen, scholars, and divines, and they certainly deserved greater
respect from the undergraduates than they received.

At the annual _Encaenia_, a great deal of licence was allowed to the
young men; and I know of several strangers, especially foreigners, who
have been scandalized at the riotous behaviour of the undergraduates
in the Theatre, the Oxford _Aula_, when the Vice-Chancellor stood up
to address the assembled audience. My first experience of this was
with Dr. Plumptre, who, as I have said, was very tall and stately;
when his first words were not quite distinct, the undergraduates
shouted, "Speak up, old stick." When the Warden of Wadham, the Rev.
Dr. Symons, was showing some pretty young ladies to their seats in the
Theatre, he was threatened by the young men, who yelled at the top of
their voices, "I'll tell Lydia, you wicked old man." Now Lydia was his
most excellent spouse. At first the remarks of the undergraduates at
the _Encaenia_, or rather _Saturnalia_, were mostly good-natured and
at least witty; but they at last became so rude that distinguished
men, whom the University wished to honour by conferring on th