Guy Livingstone | Page 5

the thalamus of an LL.D.; but I rather imagine she had a
hard time of it that night, the poor little woman! Let us hope, in charity,
that she held her own.
When the Count was questioned as to the conversation that had passed,
he declined to give any particulars, merely remarking that "he had to
thank Dr. ---- for for a very pleasant evening, and he hoped everyone
had enjoyed themselves very much"--which was philanthropic, to say
the least of it.
I don't know if it was our imagination, but we fancied that when the
head master called up Livingstone in form after this, he did so with an
air of grave defiance, such as a duelist of the Old Régime may have
worn when, doffing his plumed hat, he said to his adversary, "_En
garde!_"
There was little time to make observations, for shortly afterward Guy
went up to Oxford, whither, six months later, I followed him.
CHAPTER III.

"Through many an hour of summer suns, By many pleasant ways, Like
Hezekiah's, backward runs The shadow of my days."
When I came up, I found Guy quite established and at home. He was a
general favorite with all the men he knew at college, though intimate
with but very few. There was but one individual who hated him
thoroughly, and I think the feeling was mutual--the senior tutor, a
flaccid being, with a hand that felt like a fish two days out of water, a
large nose, and a perpetual cold in his head. He consistently and
impartially disbelieved every one on their word, requiring material
proof of each assertion; an original mode of acquiring the confidence of
his pupils, and precluding any thing like an attempt at deception on
their part. I remember well a discussion on his merits that took place in
the porter's lodge one night just after twelve. When several had given
their opinions more or less strongly, some one asked the gate-ward
what he thought of the individual in question, to which that eminent
functionary thus replied: "Why, you see, sir, I'm only a servant, and, as
such, can't speak freely, but I wish he was dead, I do."
As I have said, Livingstone disliked Selkirk heartily, and did not take
the trouble to conceal it. He used to look at him sometimes with a
curious expression in his eyes, which made the tutor twirl and writhe
uncomfortably in his chair. The latter annoyed him as much as he
possibly could, but Guy held on the even tenor of his way, seldom
contravening the statutes except in hunting three days a week, which he
persisted in doing, all lectures and regulations notwithstanding. He rode
little under fourteen stone even then; but the three horses he kept were
well up to his weight, and he stood A 1 in Jem Hill's estimation as "the
best heavy-weight that had come out of Oxford for many a day;" for he
not only went straight as a die, but rode to hounds instead of over them.
I suppose this latter practice is inherent in University sportsmen. I
know, in my time, the way in which they pressed on hounds, for the
first two fields out of cover or after a check, used to make the gray
hairs, which were the brave old huntsman's crown of glory, stand on
end with indignation and terror, so that he prayed devoutly for a big
fence which, like the broken bridge at Leipsic, might prove a stopper to
the pursuing army. There was the making of a good rider in many of

them, too; they only wanted ballast, for they knew no more of fear than
Nelson did, and would grind over the Vale of the Evenlode and the
Marsh Gibbon double timber as gayly and undauntedly as over the
accommodating Bullingdon hurdles. And what screws they rode!
ancient animals bearing as many scars as a vieux de la vieille, that were
considered short of work if they did not come out five days a fortnight.
This was Guy's favorite pursuit; but he threw off the superfluity of his
animal energies in all sorts of athletics: in sparring especially he
attained a rare excellence; so well-known was it, indeed, that he passed
his first year without striking a blow in anger, through default of an
antagonist, except a chance one or two exchanged in the _melée_
which is imperative on the 5th of November.
I did not hunt much myself, for my health was far from strong, and, I
confess, my University recollections are not lively.
After the first flush of novelty had worn off, they bored one
intensely--those large wines and suppers where, night by night, a score
of Nephelégeretæ sat shrouded in smoke, chanting the same equivocal
ditties, drinking the same