The Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green Part 10

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 75]

song, but only appreciates the chorus)~ - "That'll do, old feller! We aint pertickler,-(~rushes with great deliberation and noise to the chorus~) "That you lo-oved me sti-ill the sa-ha-hame - chorus, gentlemen!"

~Omnes (in various keys and time)~. "That you lo-oved me sti-ill the same."

~Mr. Bouncer (to Mr. Green, alluding remotely to the opera)~. "Now my Bohemian gal, can't you come out to-night? Spit us out a yard or two more, Giglamps."

~Mr. Verdant Green (who has again taken the opportunity to clear his throat)~. "I dreamt that I dwe-elt in mar-arble- no! I beg pardon!

sang that (~desperately~) - that sui-uitors sou-ught my hand, that knights on their (~hic~) ben-ended kne-e-ee - had (~hic~) riches too gre-eat to" - (~Mr. Verdant Green smiles benignantly upon the company~) - "Don't rec'lect anymo."

~Mr. Bouncer (who is not to be defrauded of the chorus)~. "Chorus, gentlemen! - That you'll lo-ove me sti-ill the sa-a-hame!"

~Omnes (ad libitum)~. "That you'll lo-ove me sti-ill the same!"

Though our hero had ceased to sing, he was still continuing to clear his throat by the aid of the milk-punch, and was again industriously sucking his cigar, which he had not yet succeeded in getting half through, although he had re-lighted it about twenty times. All this was observed by the watchful eyes of Mr. Bouncer, who, whispering to his neighbour, and bestowing a distributive wink on the company generally, rose and made the following remarks:-

"Mr. Smalls, and gents all: I don't often get on my pins to trouble you with a neat and appropriate speech; but on an occasion like the present, when we are honoured with the presence of a party who has just delighted us with what I may call a flood of harmony (~hear, hear~), - and has pitched it so uncommon strong in the vocal line, as to considerably take the shine out of the woodp.e.c.k.e.r-tapping, that we've read of in the pages of history (~hear, hear: "Go it again, Bouncer!"~), - when, gentlemen, I see before me this old original Little Wobbler, - need I say that I allude to Mr. Verdant Green? - (~vociferous cheers~)- I feel it a sort of, what you call a privilege, d'ye see, to stand on my pins, and propose that respected party's jolly good health (~renewed cheers~). Mr. Verdant Green, gentlemen, has but lately come among us, and is, in point of fact, what you call a freshman; but, gentlemen, we've already seen enough of him to feel aware that - that Brazenface has gained an acquisition, which - which - (~cries of "Tally-ho! Yoicks! Hark forrud!"~) Exactly so, gentlemen: so, as I see you are all anxious to do honour to our freshman, I beg, without further preface, to give you the health of Mr. Verdant Green! With all the honours. Chorus, gents!

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"For he's a jolly good fellow!

For he's a jolly good fellow!!

For he's a jolly good f-e-e-ell-ow!!!

Which n.o.body can deny!"

This chorus was taken up and prolonged in the most indefinite manner; little Mr. Bouncer fairly revelling in it, and only regretting that he had not his post-horn with him to further contribute to the harmony of the evening. It seemed to be a great art in the singers of the chorus to dwell as long as possible on the third repet.i.tion of the word "fellow," and in the most defiant manner to pounce down on the bold affirmation by which it is followed; and then to lyrically proclaim that, not only was it a way they had in the Varsity to drive dull care away, but that the same practice was also pursued in the army and navy for the attainment of a similar end.

When the chorus had been sung over three or four times, and Mr.

Verdant Green's name had been proclaimed with equal noise, that gentleman rose (with great difficulty), to return thanks. He was understood to speak as follows:

"Genelum anladies (~cheers~), - I meangenelum. (~"That's about the ticket, old feller!" from Mr. Bouncer.~) Customd syam plic speakn, I - I -(~hear, hear~) - feel bliged drinkmyel. I'm fresman, genelum, and prowt.i.tle (~loud cheers~). Myfren Misserboucer, fallowme callm myfren! (~"In course, Giglamps, you do me proud, old feller."~) Myfren Misserboucer seszime fresman - prow t.i.tle, sureyou (~hear, hear~). Genelmun, werall jolgoodfles, anwe wogohotillmorrin! (~"We won't, we won't! not a bit of it!"~) Gelmul, I'm fresmal, an namesgreel, gelmul (~cheers~). Fanyul dousmewor, herescardinpock'lltellm! Misser Verdalgreel, Braseface, Oxul fresmal, anprowt.i.tle! (~Great cheering and rattling of gla.s.ses, during which Mr. Verdant Green's coat-tails are made the receptacles for empty bottles, lobsters' claws, and other miscellaneous articles.~) Misserboucer said was fresmal. If Misserboucer

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 77]

wantsultme (~"No, no!"~), herescardinpocklltellm namesverdalgreel, Braseface! Not shameofitgelmul! prowt.i.tle! (~Great applause.~) I doewaltilsul Misserboucer! thenwhysee sultme? thaswaw Iwaltknow!

(~Loud cheers, and roars of laughter, in which Mr. Verdant Green suddenly joins to the best of his ability.~) I'm anoxful fresmal, gelmul, 'fmyfrel Misserboucer loumecallimso. (~Cheers and laughter, in which Mr. Verdant Green feebly joins.~) Anweerall jolgoodfles, anwe wogohotilmorril, an I'm fresmal, gelmul, anfanyul dowsmewor - an I - doefeel quiwell!"

This was the termination of Mr. Verdant Green's speech, for after making a few unintelligible sounds, his knees suddenly gave way, and with a benevolent smile he disappeared beneath the table.

Half an hour afterwards two gentlemen might have been seen, bearing with staggering steps across the moonlit quad the huddled form of a third gentleman, who was clothed in full evening dress, and appeared incapable of taking care of himself. The two first gentlemen set down their burden under an open doorway, painted over with a large _4_; and then, by pulling and pushing, a.s.sisted it to guide its steps up a narrow and intricate staircase, until they had gained the third floor, and stood before a door, over which the moonlight revealed, in newly-painted white letters, the name of "MR.

VERDANT GREEN."

"Well, old feller," said the first gentleman, "how do you feel now, after 'Sich a getting up stairs'?"

"Feel much berrer now," said their late burden; "feel quite-comfurble!

Shallgotobed!"

"Well, Giglamps," said the first speaker, "and By-by won't be at all a bad move for you. D'ye think you can unrig yourself and get between the sheets, eh, my beauty?"

"Its allri, allri!" was the reply; "limycandle!"

"No, no," said the second gentleman, as he pulled up the window-blind, and let in the moonlight; "here's quite as much light as you want. It's almost morning."

"Sotis," said the gentleman in the evening costume: "anlittlebirds beginsingsoon! Ilike littlebirds sing! jollittlebirds!" The speaker had suddenly fallen upon his bed, and was lying thereon at full length, with his feet on the pillow.

[78 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

"He'll be best left in this way," said the second speaker, as he removed the pillow to the proper place, and raised the prostrate gentleman's head; "I'll take off his choker and make him easy about the neck, and then we'll shut him up, and leave him. Why the beggar's asleep already!" And so the two gentlemen went away, and left him safe and sleeping.

It is conjectured, however, that he must have got up shortly after this, and finding himself with his clothes on, must have considered that a lighted candle was indispensably necessary to undress by; for when Mrs. Tester came at her usual early hour to light the fires and prepare the sitting-rooms, she discovered him lying on the carpet embracing the coal-skuttle, with a candle by his side.

The good woman raised him, and did not leave him until she had, in the most motherly manner, safely tucked him up in bed.

Clink, clank! clink, clank! tingle, tangle! tingle, tangle! Are demons smiting ringing hammers into Mr. Verdant Green's brain, or is the dreadful bell summoning him to rise for morning chapel?

Mr. Filcher puts an end to the doubt by putting his head in at the bedroom door, and saying, "Time for chapel, sir! Chapel," thought Mr.

Filcher; "here is a chap ill, indeed! - Bain't you well, sir?

Restless you look!"

Oh, the shame and agony that Mr. Verdant Green felt! The desire to bury his head under the clothes, away from Robert's and everyone else's sight; the fever that throbbed his brain and parched his lips, and made him long to drink up Ocean; the eyes that felt like burning lead; the powerless hands that trembled like a weak old man's; the voice that came in faltering tones that jarred the brain at every word! How he despised himself; how he loathed the very idea of wine; how he resolved never, never to transgress so again! But perhaps Mr.

Verdant Green was not the only Oxford freshman who has made this resolution.

"Bain't you well, sir?" repeated Mr. Filcher, with a pa.s.sing thought that freshmen were sadly degenerating, and could

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 79]

not manage their three bottles as they did when he was first a scout: "bain't you well, sir?"

"Not very well, Robert, thank you. I - my head aches, and I'm afraid I shall not be able to get up for chapel. Will the Master be very angry?"

"Well, he ~might~ be, you see, sir," replied Mr. Filcher, who never lost an opportunity of making anything out of his master's infirmities; "but if you'll leave it to me, sir, I'll make it all right for you, ~I~ will. Of course you'd like to take out an ~aeger~, sir; and I can bring you your Commons just the same. Will that do, sir?".

"Oh, thank you; yes, any thing. You will find five shillings in my waistcoat-pocket, Robert; please to take it; but I can't eat."

"Thank'ee, sir," said the scout, as he abstracted the five shillings; "but you'd better have a bit of somethin', sir; - a cup of strong tea, or somethin'. Mr. Smalls, sir, when he were pleasant, he always had beer, sir; but p'raps you ain't been used to bein' pleasant, sir, and slops might suit you better, sir."

"Oh, any thing, any thing!" groaned our poor, unheroic hero, as he turned his face to the wall, and endeavoured to recollect in what way he had been "pleasant" the night before. But, alas! the wells of his memory had, for the time, been poisoned, and nothing clear or pure could be drawn therefrom. So he got up and looked at himself in the gla.s.s, and scarcely recognized the tangled-haired, sallow-faced wretch, whose bloodshot eyes gazed heavily at him from the mirror.

So he nervously drained the water-bottle, and buried himself once more among the tossed and tumbled bed-clothes.

The tea really did him some good, and enabled him to recover sufficient nerve to go feebly through the operation of dressing; though it was lucky that nature had not yet brought Mr. Verdant Green to the necessity of shaving, for the handling of a razor might have been attended with suicidal results, and have brought these veracious memoirs and their hero to an untimely end.