Has not the Bishop of Eddyston attributed
much of the immorality of neighbouring
parishes to the vicinity of the University of
Bulferry?

Then again, to go from sad to silly, there
are ladies whom the mighty spirit of the
University has transformed into Anglican
Sisters. These have a mother at their head
who never has been married, and is mother
only to her sisters; and it would be well if
real mothers of the every day sort who enter
the firm were children to themselves, and
could be their own husbands for a while; so
they would soon learn how disagreeable it is
to make altar-cloths instead of slippers, and
to go to chapel at breakfast time, having,
besides, all day long a mission in the world,
instead of occupation in their household.
Mrs. Lupton went that way; she eschewed
silk dresses, and wore a funeral-pall cut into
a domino. Lupton took to frequenting
"men's rooms,'' and the language in which
he alluded to the establishment of Anglican
Sisters was of an extremely sinful
character.

In their own way the scouts and bed-
makers partake the imitative spirit. I picked
up an address-card one day, neatly
inscribed with the name of Mr. Stephen Potts,
St. Holmes, and scrawled over in due form
with the familiar summons, " Come and take
a glass of wine this evening at half-past six.
——Puddles, Esq." There was no Potts
of St. Holmes, and I much doubted the existence
of an esquire in the University named
—Puddles. That happened on the first day in
a term. Next week, however, when the
"men" were " up," I chanced to breakfast
with " the crack set" in St. Holmes, and heard
the cry of " Potts! "—" Potts! "—" Potts!"
from all parts of the staircase. The mystery
was solved. Mr. S. Potts, scout, of St. Holmes,
had been giving " a wine" in the rooms of his
young master, where the display of the said
young master's plate had been imposing.
Plate-warmer, the cook of Brainmilk Hall, had
sung " The Merry Maids of England;" Rocks,
violoncello to the town-band, had presided at
the piano; the party of the scout had only
differed from the parties of the master
inasmuch as the people had enjoyed
themselves more thoroughly, and had drunk a better
quality of wine.

Once when I paid a day's visit to Bulferry
in vacation, I met my last grey suit walking
with a lady. My scout was inside it. I let
the matter—that is, the suit of clothes—pass
unnoticed. One would not wish to make even
a scout look small before the eyes of his
betrothed.

Town courts and apes Gown; but Gown—
does that never, on the other hand, court
Town with a like want of fitness ? I think, yes,
it does, when I see Lord Stablewit and the
Right Honourable Peony Button talking, as
only brethren in soul are apt to talk, to
Folliet the livery stable-keeper, or drinking
the champagne of Bruin the tobacconist.
Yet Lord Stablewit has a stern eye for
the " scribs" of his own college, and the
Honourable Peony Button ranks a curate
lower than an ostler. He thinks better
things of his tutor because he hunts, and
once did him the honour to borrow a couple of
sovereigns, which he repaid the next morning
during lecture.

I must acquit the Don-gowns of any
accusation of familiarity with the Town party.
Only to think of a party—a ball—at which
the daughters of a Dean are to appear! A
committee of lords and gentlemen commoners
is formed. A dreary entertainment is
compiled at the Comet. The townspeople who
go are uncomfortable; they have bought a
ticket for the receipt of supercilious treatment.
Miss Theodosia, eldest daughter of the
Reverend Canon Venter, vicar of Adeps-on-
the-Rib, worth seventeen hundred pounds a
year and very little else, is happy. She has
got three words out of Lord Stablewit, heir-
apparent to the most gorgeous things. Two
canons' daughters, both hunting the tuft of
one and the same Lord Blank, are looking
very Lady Blanks because his lordship takes
no notice of them. He is dancing with a
rosy-cheeked young lady whom they " do not
know," and is assiduously seeking the good
graces of that young lady's vulgar mamma.
The canons' daughters, however, will both
talk to-morrow of the delightful evening they
spent, and will mention lords with whom they
danced.

The dear, musty old dons! How one likes
to get out of their oppressively dry company!
Reverting to the scapegraces, I wonder
whether they could not now and then be
somewhat less oppressively high-spirited;
whether they need whistle, or smoke cigars,
or imitate the noises of the Surrey gallery, at
places to which people of the town of Bulferry
resort for entertainment. True, such
additions to the public entertainments of the
town are volunteered only by a small section
of gowned performers; but there are enough
of these to make a tolerable bear-garden, and
on their account many people have declined
to offer good performances or exhibitions
in the neighbourhood of the University of
Bulferry.

One indisputable fact I am happy to
record in conclusion. In works of charity
and kindness to the poor, Town and Gown
vie with one another. When Sawbench, the
poor carpenter, had his house burnt down,
collegians and cads pumped with equal vigour
to subdue the blaze; and water failing on the
house, half sovereigns were poured upon the
man. The readiness with which these flowed
out of the pockets of the undergraduates,
told plainly enough—what many other things
will tell—that the young blood is good blood
at Bulferry. But there is a collection of
stagnant stuff by which its movement is
perverted very much; there is an old standing