one in little parties of that sort. My new American friend told me that there were offices reserved in the University for lunatics and degraded persons, these offices are filled by persons called Proctors who, in returned for a fixed stipend, are obliged to walk about the streets at night, they are not however trusted outside their College walls by themselves, but they are a'ways attended by three keepers, who never allow these Proctors to go out of their sight: furthermore I was told afterwards that the Proctors were obliged to wear a distinguishing or rather a degrading dress to ensure their recognition and recapture in case of case of an attempt to escape.

The third person of the deputation then was this lunatic in charge of his three keepers. The tallest of the group, with a very graceful bow, came up to me and said "Scito te-I beg your pardon-I mean will you take tea with me at 9.30 precisely!" I said I would be most happy.

Accompanied by my American friend I preceeded to my hotel. At 8.30 we went to our evening party: following a hint that I saw in a guide-book published in England for the use of strangers, I had taken the precaution of having my coat made in the new fashion-black cloth, of course, with two swallow tails that but. toned on, this arrangement saves a great deal of time, I find. But was the game worth the candle, was my evening's amusement worth the 'wax-candles' 3s. 6d., (as it appeared in the bill the next morning), and the five minutes it took to

arrange my matted locks before the looking-glass? Oh! what an evening I spent! Such evenings are called perpendiculars, I suppose because everybody present is very stuck-up,-how it all reminded me of a museum, heads without brains, principals without interest,—no room, even the professors could hardly find chairs.

They told me I was to be made a D.C.L. the next day. I was happy.

The fateful morning dawned: when I awoke I found on my dressing-table a telegram, from whom do you think it came? From the great Lord Mayor Luss-kuss himself, saying that he hoped to see me at 10.30 in the coffee-room of the very hotel in which I was staying: the telegram went on to say that the great Luss-kuss was going to have an honorary degree conferred on him at the same time as I was to receive mine, and that he hoped I would come back with him to London and dine with him in the evening. What must that telegram have cost? Why he might have written several letters with what it cost him, and have bought a complete letter writer, and a book on manners into the bargain. When I came into the coffee-room at the appointed time Luss-kuss was waiting to receive me, 'I am Luss-kuss,' he began, 'let me shake hands with your Royal Highness.' 'No,' I said with an air of decision, you must lick the dust off my boots first.' He did so. 'Now,' I said 'you may talk to me if you like.' 'Your Royal Highness is an early bird,' he remarked. And you are the early worm,'

6

WALT

I rejoined, giving him a cuff that sent him into the grate. He crept out and fawned upon me again. I gave him a sound kicking and a lecture on manners: he listened to both patiently. Luss-kuss,' I said, "you go in for the high moral tone -you reproved those Oxford men for answering your invitation by telegraph, and then you committed the same fault when you accepted the Academy invitation: Luss-kuss you do not understand the difference between being known and being notorious: you remind me Lusskuss of a picture in Punch-oh! it must have been 100 years ago and more- -a picture of a man who has hired a horse riding it out of a livery-stable yard while derisive boys outside say, 'Look sharp Mister your hour'll soon be up.' Lusskuss your year will soon be up so make the most of it.' Luss-kuss thought a while and then said, "But will you dine with me this evening?" To this I replied, "Luss-kuss, yes-Luss-kuss you are a gentleman'—'Oh! joy, joy,' cried Lusskuss interrupting me-oh! call me by that name again, it sounds, oh! it sounds so sweet." I continued-" As I was going to say when you interrupted me, you are a gentleman-by mistake." He quailed.

My American friend dropped in and

had breakfast with us: when I told him that I was to be made a D.C.L.-'Ab,' said he, the Civil Law in Oxford wants a Doctor very badly-there isn't much of it you know and what there is left thinks the Scotch air better than the English for its constitution.' 'Ah,' said I, not understanding the point of this last remark. After breakfast a procession was formed from the hotel to the theatre, Luss-kuss and myself were in the place of honorI will describe the ceremony fully at another time: suffice it to say now that they made me a D.C.L., but when it came to the turn of Luss-kuss they made him an L.S.D. I believe it is a great honor, but I couldn't make out why the boys in the gallery kept shouting out, 'I want to know,' 'I want to know,' perhaps it was a joke. We returned, and escorted by the Proctors and other officials proceeded to the Railway station en route for London where I was to dine with Luss-kuss: I must give your readers a detailed accouut of this dinner, which the daily journals described as 'a triumph of civic hospitality.' As soon as we entered the magnificent dining hall-[The further details are unfit for publication outside New Zealand.-Ed. S.P.]

ROBIN HOOD.

indescribable idiosyncracies! O mighty grandeur of ratiocination!

I, Walt Whitman, I, the great Iineffable I—I have been to Oxford !

O crumbling-ruinous monuments, O velvet-cloathed Proctorial espionage, I am an Americano yet I am of you, I am you, you are me. Oh !

Yea but the time all-democratic shall come, all will come to an end of this.

O America! Libertad! Thou shalt swallow up all. Oxford, thy days are gone, thou shalt cringe to Harvard.

O democracy! O my world-brother! I am Walt Whitman! I have been to Oxford. I too am wise, I am learned. I salute you! Je vous salue. Omnes! Omnes! Pasi, mâσt. I am a scholar.

Home of learning! Oxford, mingled up with the past, the Greek, the Roman, the Sanskrit, all these are thine. But there is America, there is Maine, New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusets, Delaware.

Ah, Latitude 41o, Oh, Longitude 74°. Ye are one! Red-skin and White-skin, Proctor and Bull-dogs, Boden-Scholar and Vice Chancellor, ye are all one! O glory of interjections! Oh!

I am one I am all! poet but I?

Who is the great

I am Walt Whitman. You are a fool.

next.

66

published a SPECIAL COMMEMORATION Contributions for this number cannot be

In this rather troublesome world it is a slight satisfaction to be able to point out to others their duty and to abuse them if they do not accept our suggestions. We have now to set forth to our dear friend the Vice-Chancellor his manifest duty as concerning the Broad Walk on Show Sunday if he does not act accordingly

we may

have to be angry with him.

Last year it was our privilege to expound the mysteries of Commem. to two very charming ladies who had never before been to Oxford, and on the morning of Show Sunday we indulged in a glowing, perhaps fanciful, description of the glories of the evening promenade. We remembered the days when the array of beauty and nobility and intellect made that scene splendid, and for some years previously we had not been in Oxford at the time: we had hoped once again to revive the

-CHAU. PROL.

old and pleasing memories, and our proud prophecies filled our fair friends with an enthusiasm almost equal to our own.

But alas! When we had returned from the Walks, the bitterness of our own heart and the silence of our two companions was in gloomy contrast to our brilliant anticipations. We had seen the undergraduates of Oxford loafing about without the cap and gown which on such an occasion at least they should be proud to wear we had wondered at the brilliant colours of the ladies who had left the shops to honour us with their presence; we had shuddered at the straps of conversation which now and then reached our ears. But what had become of that grand procession of former years? Where were the literary men, the men of science, the Bishops, the Heads of Houses? And the ladies, where were they?

M

82

The turn-out on last year's Show Sunday was a disgrace to Oxford; though the subject is nauseous we must not shrink from laying bare a repulsive fact, namely, that persons for whose suppression the Proctors are supposed to be employed were present in great numbers and rendered themselves shamelessly offensive towards the close of the evening. We therefore tell the ViceChancellor that it is his duty either to do away with the Broad Walk ceremony

altogether, or else to see that no one is allowed to enter the Meadows unless accompanied by a man in cap and gown. If he does not take one of these courses he is encouraging vulgarity and even immorality. In a few years ladies will refuse to go, and how will the lack of ladies be supplied?

Undergraduates who have any regard for the honour of the University will turn out in cap and gown.

I was never a good hater,
I could love a Moderator,
Tho' my love had p'raps been greater
Had he passed me through the Schools.
Nay I could without much trouble
Even come to like a double

First, altho' I hold such bubble

Fame is only fit for fools.

And although I shall be mocked, or
Thought fit subject for a doctor,
I could like a senior Proctor

Or a Bull-dog in his way.
And I like my tradesman sending
In his bill and recommending
Payment, and 'tis truly rending
To have nought wherewith to pay.

And I tell this angry claimant,
Seeking for immediate payment
For his books or boots or raiment,
That I'm harassed to refuse ;
And I shew him more in sorrow
Than in anger that I'd borrow,
If 'twere possible tomorrow,

Money from rapacious Jews.

LITTLE JOHN.

Nay, I do not hate the captain
Of the boat that I've been clapt in,
Though ere since I have been wrapt in

Softest clothes to ease my pain.
And I e'en can bear my Coach's
Somewhat virulent reproaches,
Though his language oft approaches
Very near to the profane.

There is naught I cannot leaven
With my love, beneath wide heaven
Save that cursèd bell at seven,

Calling me from morning rest.
And that constant clang diurnal
With its mocking tones infernal
I'm convinced ere long will turn all
Milk of kindness in my breast.

Rousing me as I am dreaming
Of some maiden sweetly beaming
On my prayers and really seeming
Not at all disposed to snub.
Just as to my breast I'm clasping
The beloved, then comes this rasping
Sound of bells, and I am gasping

In my matutinal tub. -GAMBLE GOLD.