The Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green Part 12

[86 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

their stalls (being "a complete realization of stalled Oxon!" as Charles Larkyns whispered to our hero), who were relieved in colour by their crimson or scarlet hoods; and then, "upstairs," in the north and the great west galleries, the black ma.s.s of undergraduates; while a few ladies' bonnets and heads of male visitors peeped from the pews in the aisles, or looked out from the curtains of the organ-gallery, where, "by the kind permission of Dr.

Elvey," they were accommodated with seats, and watched with wonder, while

"The wild wizard's fingers, With magical skill, Made music that lingers, In memory still."

Then there was the bidding-prayer, in which Mr. Verdant Green was somewhat astonished to hear the long list of founders

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 87]

and benefactors, "such as were, Philip Pluckton, Bishop of Iffley; King Edward the Seventh; Stephen de Henley, Earl of Bagley, and Maud his wife; Nuneham Courtney, knight," with a long et-cetera; though, as the preacher happened to be a Brazenface man, our hero found that he was "most chiefly bound to praise Clement Abingdon, Bishop of Jericho, and founder of the college of Brazenface; Richard Glover, Duke of Woodstock; Giles Peckwater, Abbot of Beney; and Binsey Green, Doctor of Music; - benefactors of the same."

Then there was the sermon itself; the abstrusely learned and cla.s.sical character of which, at first, also astonished him, after having been so long used to the plain and highly practical advice which the rector, Mr. Larkyns, knew how to convey so well and so simply to his rustic hearers. But as soon as he had reflected on the very different characters of the two congregations, Mr. Verdant Green at once recognized the appropriateness of each cla.s.s of sermons to its peculiar hearers; yet he could not altogether drive away the thought, how the generality of those who had on previous Sundays been his fellow-worshippers would open their blue Saxon eyes, and ransack their rustic brains, as to "what ~could~ ha' come to rector," if he were to indulge in Greek and Latin quotations, - ~somewhat~ after the following style. "And though this interpretation may in these days be disputed, yet we shall find that it was once very generally received.

For the learned St. Chrysostom is very clear on this point, where he says, 'Arma virumque cano, rusticus expectat, sub tegmine f.a.gi'; of which the words of Irenaeus are a confirmation - {otototoio, papaperax, poluphloisboio thala.s.saes}."

Our hero, indeed, could not but help wondering what the fairer portion of the congregation made of these parts of the sermons, to whom, probably, the sentences just quoted would have sounded as full of meaning as those they really heard.

"Hallo, Giglamps!" said the cheery voice of little Mr. Bouncer, as he looked one morning into Verdant's rooms, followed by his two bull-terriers; "why don't you sport something in the dog line?

Something in the bloodhound or tarrier way. Ain't you fond o' dogs?"

"Oh, very!" replied our hero. "I once had a very nice one, - a King Charles."

"Oh!" observed Mr. Bouncer, "one of them beggars that you have to feed with spring chickens, and get up with curling tongs. Ah!

they're all very well in their way, and do for women and carriage-exercise; but give ~me~ this sort of thing!" and Mr. Bouncer patted one of his villainous looking pets, who

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wagged his corkscrew tail in reply. "Now, these are beauties, and no mistake! What you call useful and ornamental; ain't you, Buzzy? The beggars are brothers; so I call them Huz and Buz:- Huz his first-born, you know, and Buz his brother."

"I should like a dog," said Verdant; "but where could I keep one?"

"Oh, anywhere!" replied Mr. Bouncer confidently. "I keep these beggars in the little shop for coal, just outside the door. It ain't the law, I know; but what's the odds as long as they're happy?

~They~ think it no end of a lark. I once had a Newfunland, and tried ~him~ there; but the obstinate brute considered it too small for him, and barked himself in such an unnatural manner, that at last he'd got no wool on the top of his head, - just the place where the wool ought to grow, you know; so I swopped the beggar to a Skimmery* man for a regular slap-up set of pets of the ballet, framed and glazed, petticoats and all, mind you. But about your dog, Giglamps: -that cupboard there would be just the ticket; you could put him under the wine-bottles, and then there'd be wine above and whine below.

~Videsne puer~? D'ye twig, young 'un? But if you're squeamish about that, there are heaps of places in the town where you could keep a beast."

So, when our hero had been persuaded that the possession of an animal of the terrier species was absolutely necessary to a University man's existence, he had not to look about long without having the void filled up. Money will in most places procure any thing, from a grant of arms to a pair of wooden legs; so it is not surprising if, in Oxford, such an every-day commodity as a dog can be obtained through the medium of "filthy lucre;" for there was a well-known dog-fancier and proprietor, whose surname was that of the rich substantive just mentioned, to which had been prefixed the "filthy" adjective, probably for the sake of euphony. As usual, Filthy Lucre was clumping with his lame leg up and down the pavement just in front of the Brazenface gate, accompanied by his last "new and extensive a.s.sortment" of terriers of every variety, which he now pulled up for the inspection of Mr. Verdant Green.

"Is it a long-aird dawg, or a smooth 'un, as you'd most fancy?"

inquired Mr. Lucre. "Har, sir!" he continued, in a flattering tone, as he saw our hero's eye dwelling on a Skye terrier; "I see you're a gent as ~does~ know a good style of dawg, when you see 'un! It ain't often as you see a Skye sich as that, sir! Look at his colour, sir, and the way he looks out of his 'air! He answers to the name of ~Mop~, sir, in

--- * Oxford slang for "St. Mary's Hall."

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 89]

consekvence of the length of his 'air; and he's cheap as dirt, sir, at four-ten! It's a throwin' of him away at the price; and I shouldn't do it, but I've got more dawgs than I've room for; so I'm obligated to make a sacrifice. Four-ten, sir! 'Ad the distemper, and everythink, and a reg'lar good 'un for the varmin."

His merits also being testified to by Mr. Larkyns and Mr. Bouncer (who was considered a high authority in canine matters), and Verdant also liking the quaint appearance of the dog, ~Mop~ eventually became his property, for "four-ten" ~minus~ five shillings, but ~plus~ a pint of b.u.t.tery beer, which Mr. Lucre always p.r.o.nounced to be customary "in all dealins whatsumever atween gentlemen." Verdant was highly gratified at possessing a real University dog, and he patted ~Mop~, and said, "Poo dog! poo Mop! poo fellow then!" and thought what a pet his sisters would make of him when he took him back home with him for the holi - the Vacation!

~Mop~ was for following Mr. Lucre, who had clumped away up the street; and his new master had some difficulty in keeping him at his heels. By Mr. Bouncer's advice, he at once took him over the river to the field opposite the Christ Church

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meadows, in order to test his rat-killing powers. How this could be done out in the open country, our hero was at a loss to know; but he discreetly held his tongue, for he was gradually becoming aware that a freshman in Oxford must live to learn, and that, as with most men, ~experientia docet~.

They had just been punted over the river, and ~Mop~ had been restored to ~terra firma~, when Mr. Bouncer's remark of "There's the cove that'll do the trick for you!" directed Verdant's attention to an individual, who, from his general appearance, might have been first cousin to "Filthy Lucre," only that his live stock was of a different description. Slung from his shoulders was a large but shallow wire cage, in which were about a dozen doomed rats, whose futile endeavours to make their escape by running up the sides of their prison were regarded with the most intense earnestness by a group of terriers, who gave way to various phases of excitement. In his hand he carried a small circular cage, containing two or three rats for immediate use. On the receipt of sixpence, one of these was liberated; and a few yards start being (sportsmanlike) allowed, the speculator's terrier was then let loose, joined gratuitously, after a short interval, by a perfect pack in full cry, with a human chorus of "Hoo rat! Too loo! loo dog!" The rat turned, twisted, doubled, became confused,

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 91]

was overtaken, and, with one grip and a shake, was dead; while the excited pack returned to watch and jump at the wire cages until another doomed prisoner was tossed forth to them. Gentlemen on their way for a walk were thus enabled to wile away a few minutes at the n.o.ble sport, and indulge themselves and their dogs with a little healthy excitement; while the boating costume of other gentlemen shewed that they had for a while left aquatic pursuits, and had strolled up from the river to indulge in "the sports of the fancy."

Although his new master invested several sixpences on ~Mop's~ behalf, yet that ungrateful animal, being of a pa.s.sive temperament of mind as regarded rats, and a slow movement of body, in consequence of his long hair impeding his progress, rather disgraced himself by allowing the sport to be taken from his very teeth. But he still further disgraced himself, when he had been taken back to Brazenface, by howling all through the night in the cupboard where he had been placed, thereby setting on Mr. Bouncer's two bull-terriers, Huz and Buz, to echo the sounds with redoubled fury from their coal-hole quarters; thus causing loss of sleep and a great outlay of Saxon expletives to all the dwellers on the staircase. It was in vain that our hero got out of bed and opened the cupboard-door, and said, "Poo Mop! good dog, then!" it was in vain that Mr. Bouncer shied boots at the coal-hole, and threatened Huz and Buz with loss of life; it was in vain that the tenant of the attic, Mr. Sloe, who was a reading-man, and sat up half the night, working for his degree, - it was in vain that he opened his door, and mildly declared (over the banisters), that it was impossible to get up Aristotle while such a noise was being made; it was in vain that Mr. Four-in-hand Fosbrooke, whose rooms were on the other side of Verdant's, came and administered to ~Mop~ severe punishment with a tandem-whip (it was a favourite boast with Mr. Fosbrooke, that he could flick a fly from his leader's ear); it was in vain to coax ~Mop~ with chicken-bones: he would neither be bribed nor frightened, and after a deceitful lull of a few minutes, just when every one was getting to sleep again, his melancholy howl would be raised with renewed vigour, and Huz and Buz would join for sympathy.

"I tell you what, Giglamps," said Mr. Bouncer the next morning; "this game'll never do. Bark's a very good thing to take in its proper way, when you're in want of it, and get it with port wine; but when you get it by itself and in too large doses, it ain't pleasant, you know. Huz and Buz are quiet enough, as long as they're let alone; and I should advise you to keep ~Mop~ down at Spavin's stables, or somewhere. But first, just let me give the brute the hiding he deserves."

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Poor ~Mop~ underwent his punishment like a martyr; and in the course of the day an arrangement was made with Mr. Spavin for ~Mop's~ board and lodging at his stables. But when Verdant called there the next day, for the purpose of taking him for a walk, there was no ~Mop~ to be found; taking advantage of the carelessness of one of Mr. Spavin's men, he had bolted through the open door, and made his escape. Mr.

Bouncer, at a subsequent period, declared that he met ~Mop~ in the company of a well-known Regent-street fancier; but, however that may be, ~Mop~ was lost to Mr. Verdant Green.

CHAPTER X.

MR. VERDANT GREEN REFORMS HIS TAILORS' BILLS AND RUNS UP OTHERS. HE ALSO APPEARS IN A RAPID ACT OF HORSEMANSHIP, AND FINDS ISIS COOL IN SUMMER.

THE state of Mr. Verdant Green's outward man had long offended Mr.

Charles Larkyns' more civilized taste; and he one day took occasion delicately to hint to his friend, that it would conduce more to his appearance as an Oxford undergraduate, if he forswore the primitive garments that his country-tailor had condemned him to wear, and adapted the "build" of his dress to the peculiar requirements of university fashion.

Acting upon this friendly hint, our freshman at once betook himself to the shop where he had bought his cap and gown, and found its proprietor making use of the invisible soap and washing his hands in the imperceptible water, as though he had not left that act of imaginary cleanliness since Verdant and his father had last seen him.

"Oh, certainly, sir; an abundant variety," was his reply to Verdant's question, if he could show him any patterns that were fashionable in Oxford. "The greatest stock hout of London, I should say, sir, decidedly. This is a nice unpretending gentlemanly thing, sir, that we make up a good deal!" and he spread a s.h.a.ggy substance before the freshman's eyes.

"What do you make it up for?" inquired our hero, who thought it more nearly resembled the hide of his lamented ~Mop~ than any other substance.

"Oh, morning garments, sir! Reading and walking-coats, for erudition and the promenade, sir! Looks well with vest of the same material, sprinkled down with coral currant b.u.t.tons! We've some sweet things in vests, sir; and some neat, quiet trouserings, that I'm sure would give satisfaction." And the tailor and robe-maker, between washings with the invisible soap, so visibly "soaped" our hero in what is understood to

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 93]

be the shop-sense of the word, and so surrounded him with a perfect irradiation of aggressive patterns of oriental gorgeousness, that Mr.