starts. I had vainly pursued the first of these three courses open to me, and was proceeding to try to calm myself by the second, when ill-luck prompted an unlucky porter to come up with a face radiant with smiles and train oil and to make this idiotic remark, "Just missed it, sir." My cup was indeed full. "Just missed it," when my breast was bursting with the frantic efforts I had made to overtake that infernal train. "Just missed it," when I had not had time to relieve my pent up feelings by a sulphurous torrent of expletives. It was too much. Ah, I thought, I have missed it and now there is nothing left to me but vengeance, and I'll make one person in this world sorry I missed that train.

I went for that porter, and in an instant there was a sound of a heavy body making its way through the silent air, and four of my five toes were dislocated. By poetic justice that man fell in front of the very

13

train that had caused his abrupt departure, and upset it.

When I had thus sated my just thirst for vengeance, I began to fear I had acted a little hastily, and so I took steps to alleviate the misfortune. I sought out the family of that unhappy man and told them they had better not wait dinner for him. I returned to the station with a light heart and the consciousness of having done a good and noble deed that would be recorded amongst the annals of such deeds for all time.

Yes, reader, the pleasure of having done a great and noble deed such as mine can only be appreciated by the perpetrators thereof.

With this moral reflection I shall conclude this paper for the present.

N.B. I am quite aware I am not an American “in Oxford” yet, but that is my misfortune, not my fault. I'll try and get there next time. MUCH.

WE feel we Owe an apology to our readers for not commencing this series with a sketch of some one more eminent amongst Oxford men than Mr. Lankester. But, recollecting that the notoriety Mr. Lankester had obtained was quite quite ephemeral, we thought it best to lose no time in presenting our readers with a sketch of this gentleman, before he relapsed into his former obscurity.

Coming of a scientific family, Mr. Lankester's career as an Undergraduate was most successful, for he obtained two University Scholarships in addition to a first in Natural Science.

After spending some years abroad, principally, we believe, in attending the lectures of eminent men of science, he returned to Oxford and obtained a Fellowship at Exeter College.

Mr. Lankester's great failing is his love of notoriety, which has induced him to come prominently forward as an advocate of Woman's Rights, and more recently as an apologist for Vivisection, in which latter character he will probably be best known to our readers, and in which we consider he has been most unfortunate. With a feeble pen and a bad case he has boldly plunged into a controversy with one of the ablest papers of the day, and it is no wonder, and no disgrace to him, that he has come off decidedly worst.

What, however, he will feel more keenly this at the interest which the public were

beginning to take in the controversy he carried on has been entirely eclipsed by Mr. Gladstone's coup d'état and the general election.

Mr. Lankester is to be sincerely pitied. He comes forward as a martyr to Science, the public treats him as a fit subject for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals to deal with. But this is not the worst. He longs for fame, or we should rather say, for notoriety. One would think that he acquiesces in the saying,

""Tis better to be known for bad

Than never to be known at all."

But the public is busy with other things, While he is talking of defunct guinea-pigs, it is thinking of defunct governments; while he expatiates on the victories of science, it is discussing the victory of the Conservatives; he is full of dissection, it of dissolution.

One word of advice to Mr. Lankester before we conclude. Work patiently, earnestly, and (above all) quietly, and in due course of time you will become eminent, but do not push yourself prematurely forward. You are only casting your pearls before swine which will turn again and rend you.

For ourselves we have nothing to dread from Mr. Lankester, as we know he will be only too grateful to us for thus bringing his name before our readers, but we cannot help fearing lest his love for vivi.

16

The "Shotover Papers," of which we are enabled by the courtesy of the Editor to give an early notice, will be welcomed by all who have at heart the interests of the young men of Protestant England. Now that Infidelity is spreading its wings broadcast over the land, and the subtle influence of Popery flaunts its banner in high places, we rejoice to find that earnestness and truth still have their fearless supporters even in Oxford, the enemy's stronghold. We have nowhere seen so grave and practical a rebuke to the levity with which solemn subjects are now, alas, too often treated than in the Introductory paper of this new magazine, to which we wish all success. The Block.

The student of contemporary history will learn from this magazine that Oxford edueation has a dark as well as a bright side. We had hitherto believed that an Oxford degree was a guarantee that its owner was at least a gentleman. We regret to find that it is not so. Timeserver.

We are brought face to face with an unprecedented phenomenon. Strange gleams of a deeper meaning flash out from the crevices of this piece of rugged ore. Like Croesus, in the famous narrative of the Alexandrian bookseller, we tossed the magazine after the first reading into our waste-paper basket, and proceeded to dally with our matutinal crumpet, but by a strange fascination were drawn again to its pages: we read it again and thought it was perhaps not altogether to be condemned; a third time, and we cried out to our favourite puss on the Kidderminster hearth-rug 'Give the fellow fifty ponnds': the wonderful truths, or rather halftruths, suggestions-in the few light papers grow upon us and twine their fibres round our very being.

We now

feel that no drawing-room ought to he without this pleasing and yet awe-inspiring periodical. Gaily Sillygraph.

We have often expressed our dislike of flippant or comic literature: we warn the Editor of the Shotover Papers' that he has incurred a serious responsibility.

Cigaro.

The Shotover Papers' are another melancholy example of the foolish notions of outsiders about Oxford life. We confess that, were it not for the headings, we should have supposed this magazine to refer to the amusement of Colney Hatch and not to a society of sane men. The writers should either come and live a short time in Oxford, and leave their desks in the city, or else take in our journal for a few months, and learn how Oxford Undergraduates live and think and act.

Oxford Graduate's Register.

We call the attention of the authorities to the deliberate insult put upon them by the 'Shotover Papers:' the writersfreshmen, we are informed on good authority-should go back to school and learn how to write English, and might then be taught how a gentleman writes.

Spatterday Review.

Statutum est quod si quis aliquid scripto composuerit, unde alicujus existimatio et fama lodi possit, vel aliquid ejusmodi ab alio compositum exscripserit, vel quoquo modo in vulgus sparserit aut disseminaverit, vel si quis verbis contumeliosis quemquam impetiverit, vel in concione, oratione, fabula, vel alio quocunque modo, quicquam publice protulerit vel ediderit in quo academici cujusdam existimatio et fama lodi possit, vel persona derisui seu ludibrio exponi, damnas esto. Statuta Universitatis Oxoniensis XI (XV) $ 8.

VOL. I.

NO. II.

"EXCUSE me, sir, but are you a member of this University?" Such was the question which aroused me from a reverie

yesterday afternoon. I looked up, and saw before me my polite and fine-looking old friend, Henry George, lifting his cap with that easy grace which strikes wonder to the breast of the matriculating freshman. "Hallo," said I, "its an age since

I've seen you: come now, Henry, it

won't do to throw off old friends in that way, just because I've moved up on to the hill here to get away from Oxford drains and Oxford swamps. Cigarette? And do send that respectable looking man with the polished stick and squash-cap away. Now then off with these absurd things, and make yourself at home: may I ask how long it is since you have left off turning out in boating-togs? Robin says he never meets you punting on the Cherwell now. I fear you're in bad hands, my friend. Now to answer your question

by asking another, What's all this little joke? Tell the truth, George, and shame the Hebdomadal Council."

"Well the fact is," said the Vice, who had been reluctantly giving way before my pleasant banter, "I have a littleahein-business of an unpleasant nature to transact with you. Have you seen the 'Shotover Papers ?""

"Have I? I never roared over a thing so heartily in my life, and Friar is visibly diminishing under the effects of continued laughter. But I forgot, perhaps I ought not to praise it myself. But I'm glad you liked it. By the bye, do let us have some of those exquisite sketches of yours, and we'll see if we can't work them in. That little one of Tommy F-- which you took on Convocation blotting-paper was inimitable, but though those old fogies are rather dull you really oughtn't to be so inattentive to them. Hallo, take care! "% For Henry seemed collapsing

D