Magazine," said Farwood, looking round, as one who announces a portent.

"Ruthven is a fat man," said Blossett, and buried his face in a foaming tumbler.

"He has a mahogany sideboard," said Jones, nervously loosening the wire of a cork.

"You can't expect a great healthy man like that to care about literature," observed Kerisen, who was terribly fond of mockery.

"It seems likely that he rejected those verses of Farwood's on the ground of indecency," began Manvers. "Now the true art of poetry I take to be--"

"To produce the most luxurious narcotic," said Blossett, interrupting.

"I am bound to go," said Manvers, who had been too often balked.

"The call of duty," suggested Blossett, sweetly.

After brief leave-taking the orator stalked forth into the night. Kerisen was heartily tired of his party.

"It is time for boys to be in bed," he said to Cranley. Then drawing Farwood aside, he mentioned to him that the bashful youth was a great admirer of his poetry; and so sent the two off together.

"I must resign this sofa sooner or later," said Jones. "Blossy, your hand." He departed leaning on his friend's shoulder.

"Come and see me next week, if I am still alive," said Blogg, as he huddled on his gown. He was fond of hinting at suicide.

When they had all gone, Kerisen pulled back the curtain, and flung open the window. The cold night air came softly in, to find the scent of apples, musk, wine, and cigarette.

'What do you think of them?" asked the host. "Think of them!" cried Irvine, giving vent to his feelings; "I think they are a set of egotistical, shy, attitudinising humbugs."

'Good enough fellows, as fellows go," remarked Kerisen; and he added, "Models of culture."

"If that is culture," said Dale, solemnly, "give me stone-breaking for choice."

"They don't do the thing well in Oxford,” Keri-, sen admitted. "Come to me in London at any time. Drop a line, and come. I will show you the real thing—the men whom these men imitate; Maxwelton, and Bush, and Tagus Robinson, and Maximilian Darley, and other real lions. You shall see them in their dens, and at their ease. These Oxonian cubs are never at their ease."

Irvine Dale, walking homeward down the street, where his footfall sounded loud in the stillness, hurled fierce epithets against the men with whom he had passed the evening. It seemed useless to seek culture among the old grey walls and deep green gardens of Oxford. He had no wish to be like Jones or Blossett. To make himself a Blogg and die, seemed a poor prospect. On a sudden came an idea which brought him to a standstill. The great thought had come to him, as to other restless youth. He would shut himself up, and learn German.

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CHAPTER XII.

A LETTER FROM LONDON.

IRVINE DALE was not always in a bad temper. Sometimes his youth rebelled against him, and he was half ashamed to find that he had enjoyed himself foolishly. A pull down the river in sunshine and shade, a plunge below the weir, a supper at the inn, were small matters to make a rational being happy; but when he enjoyed such things, Irvine enjoyed them more thoroughly than his fellows. He rowed like a hero, and talked as he rowed, and chaffed his companions, until his utterances grew so extravagant and fantastical, that they stared at him in astonishment. Then, in the midst of his absurdities, he became suddenly conscious of the barrier between him and them, and was unutterably gloomy for five minutes, toiling harder at the oar. Sometimes he lay on the warm

grass within the college walls, and talked with other men; and sometimes he was seen at wines, and even at supper-parties. But for the most part he lived alone, resisting his cousin's efforts to make him sociable. He was neither popular nor unpopular. Many men had been angry at his curt refusal to play in the eleven; but his general conduct and Harefel's popularity had persuaded them to ascribe his want of patriotism to eccentricity, and they dismissed him with the remark that "he would not be a bad fellow if he were not so cracked." Undergraduates of all types and classes who were able to matriculate were gathered in the college, which was gaining a name for enlightenment. Among these there were many who envied Dale's reputation for peculiarity, hinted that he was affected, and dissented from the popular belief that he could do anything if he chose; while there were others who exalted him into a hero, and strove to emulate his indifference to a university career. The dons agreed in regarding his theory of education for education's sake as a mere cloak for idleness; but the Dean, who both enjoyed and valued a variety of characters, regarded him as a useful element, and allowed him unusual liberty. So Irvine Dale lived through the summer term―