s--very worthy good sort of fellows, whom I saw more or less of
nearly every day--have vanished from my memory, or only flit across
occasionally, like shadows, the full-length figure of Mr W. Wellington
Hurst, exactly as he turned out, after a satisfactory toilet, in the
patent boots and scarf of many colours, stands fixed there like a
daguerreotype--more faithful than flattering.

My first introduction to him was by running him down in a skiff, when I
was steering the College eight--not less to his astonishment than our
own gratification. It is perfectly allowable, by the laws of the river,
if, after due notice, these small craft fail to get out of your way; but
it is not very easy to effect. However, in this instance, we went clean
over him, very neatly indeed. The men helped him into our boat, just as
his own sunk from under him; and he accepted a seat by my side in the
stern-sheets, with many apologies for being so wet, appearing
considerably impressed with a sense of my importance, and still more of
my politeness. When we reached Sandford, I prescribed a stiff tumbler of
hot brandy and water, and advised him to run all the way home, to warm
himself, and avoid catching cold; and, from that time, I believe he
always looked upon me as a benefactor. The claim, on my part, certainly
rested on a very small foundation originally; it was strengthened
afterwards by a less questionable act of patronage. Like many other
under-graduates of every man's acquaintance, Hurst laboured under the
delusion, that holding two sets of reins in a very confused manner, and
flourishing a long whip, was driving; and that to get twenty miles out
of Oxford in a "team," without an upset, or an imposition from the
proctor, was an _opus operatum_ of the highest possible merit. To do him
justice, he laboured diligently in the only exercise which he seemed to
consider strictly academical--he spent an hour every morning, standing
upon a chair, "catching flies," as he called it, and occasionally
flicking his scout with a tandem whip, and practised incessantly upon
tin horns of all lengths, with more zeal than melody, until he got the
erysipelas in his lower lip, and a hint of rustication from the tutors.
Yet he was more ambitious than successful. His reputation on the road
grew worse and worse every day. He had a knack of shaving turnpike
gates, and cutting round corners on one wheel, and getting his horses
into every possible figure but a straight li