e was mending. The truth
was, the University had been loyal to the monarchy all through the
Commonwealth times; and when Oliver Cromwell was dead, and Richard
dismounted, its members perceived, through the maze of changes and
intrigues, that in a little time the heart of the nation would revert to
the government which twenty years before it had hated. And their
impatient hopes of this "made the scholars talk aloud, drink healths, and
curse Meroz in the very streets; insomuch that when the King came in, they
were not only like them that dream, but like them who are out of their
wits, mad, stark, staring mad." This unholy 'rag' (to modernise the old
gentleman's language) continued for a twelvemonth: that is to say, until
the Vice-Chancellor--holding that the demonstration, like Miss Mary
Bennet's pianoforte playing in _Pride and Prejudice_, had delighted the
company long enough--put his foot down. And from that time the University
became sober, modest, and studious as perhaps any in Europe. The old
gentleman wound up with some practical advice, and a promise to furnish
the squire with a letter of recommendation to one of the best tutors in
Oxford.

Thus armed, the squire (though still with misgivings) was not long in
getting on horseback with his wife, his daughters, and his young hopeful,
and riding off to Oxford, where at first it seemed that his worst
suspicions would be confirmed; "for at ten o'clock in the inn, there arose
such a roaring and singing that my hair stood on end, and my former
prejudices were so heightened that I resolved to lose the journey and
carry back my son again, presuming that no noise in Oxford could be made
but _scholars_ must do it,"--a hoary misconception still cherished, or
until recently, by the Metropolitan Police and the Oxford City Bench.
In this instance a proctor intervened, and quelled the disturbance by
sending 'two young pert townsmen' to prison; "and quickly came to my
chamber, and perceiving my boy designed for a gown, told me that it was
for the preservation of such fine youths as he that the proctors made so
bold with gentlemen's lodgings." The squire had some talk with this
dignitary, who was a man of presence and suitable address, and of
sufficient independence to deny--not for the first time in history--that
dons were overpaid.

Next morning the whole family trooped off to call upon the tutor whom
their old neighbour had recommended. Oddly enough, the tutor seemed by