"A vulgar ditty, by my faith," said the exquisite, "in the true English style, all fol de rol, and a vile chorus to split the tympanum of one's auricular organs: do, for heaven's sake, Echo, let us have some divertissement of a less boisterous character." "Agreed," said Eglantine, winking at Echo; "we'll have a round of sculls. Every man shall sing a song, write a poetical epitaph on his right hand companion, or drink off a double dose of rum booze."{6} "Then I shall be confoundedly cut," said Dick Gradus, "for I never yet could chant a stave or make a couplet in my life." "And I protest against a practice," said Lionise, "that has a tendency to trifle with one's transitory tortures." "No appeal from the chair," said Eglantine: "another bumper, boys; here's The Fair Nuns of St. Clement's." "To which I beg leave to add," said Echo, "by way of rider, their favourite pursuit, The Study of the Fathers." By the time these toasts had been duly honoured, some of the party displayed symptoms of being moderately cut, when Echo commenced by reciting his epitaph on his next friend, Bob Transit:—

Here rests a wag, whose pencil drew
Life's characters of varied hue,
Bob Transit—famed in humour's sphere
For many a transitory year.
Though dead, still in the "English Spy"
He'll live for ever to the eye.
Here uncle White{7} reclines in peace,
Secure from nephew and from niece.
6 Rum booze—Flip made of white or port wine, the yolks of
eggs, sugar and nutmeg.
7 Uncle White, a venerable bed-maker of All Souls' College,
eighty-three years of age; has been in the service of the
college nearly seventy years: is always dressed in black,
and wears very largo silver knee and shoe-buckles; his hair,
which is milk-white, is in general tastefully curled: he is
known "to, and called uncle by, every inhabitant of the
university, and obtained the cog-nomen from his having an
incredible number of nephews and nieces in Oxford. In
appearance he somewhat resembles a clergyman of the old
school.

Of All-Souls' he, alive or dead;
Of milk-white name, the milk-white head.
By Uncle White.
Here lies Billy Chadwell,{8}
Who perform'd the duties of a dad well.
BY BILLY CHADWELL.
Ye maggots, now's your time to crow:
Old Boggy Hastings{9} rests below.
BY BOGGY HASTINGS.
A grosser man ne'er mix'd with stones
Than lies beneath—'Tis Figgy Jones.{10}
BY FIGGY JONES.
Here Marquis Wickens{11} lies incrust,
In clay-cold consecrated dust:
No more he'll brew, or pastry bake;
His sun is set—himself a cake.
8 Billy Chadwell, of psalm-singing notoriety, since dead;
would imitate syncope so admirably, as to deceive a whole
room full of company—in an instant he would become pale,
motionless, and ghastly as death; the action of his heart
has even appeared to be diminished: his sham fits, if
possible, exceeded his fainting. He was very quarrelsome
when in his cups; and when he had aggravated any one to the
utmost, to save himself from a severe beating would
apparently fall into a most dreadful fit, which never failed
to disarm his adversary of his rage, and to excite the
compassion of every by-stander.
9 Old Boggy Hastings supplies members of the university and
college servants who are anglers with worms and maggots.
10 Tommy J***s, alias Figgy Jones, an opulent grocer in the
High-street, and a common-councilman in high favour with the
lower orders of the freemen; a sporting character.
11 Marquis Wickens formerly a confectioner, and now a
common brewer. He accumulated considerable property as a
confectioner, from placing his daughters, who were pretty
genteel girls, behind his counter, where they attracted a
great many gownsmen to the shop. No tradesman ever gained a
fortune more rapidly than this man: as soon as he found
himself inde-pendent of the university, he gave up his shop,
bought the Sun Inn, built a brewhouse, and is now gaining as
much money by selling beer as he formerly did by
confectionery.

BY MARQUIS WICKENS.
Ye roués all, be sad and mute;
Who now shall cut the stylish suit?
Buck Sheffield's{12 }gone—Ye Oxford men,
Where shall ye meet his like again?
BY BUCK SHEFFIELD.
MacLean{13} or Tackle, which you will,
In quiet sleeps beneath this hill.
Ye anglers, bend with one accord;
The stranger is no more abroad.
BY MACLEAN.
Here rests a punster, Jemmy Wheeler{14}
In wit and whim a wholesale dealer;
Unbound by care, he others bound,
And now lies gathered underground.
12 Sheffield, better known by the name of Buck Sheffield, a
master tailor and a member of the common council.
13 MacLean, an old bacchanalian Scotchman, better known by
the name of Tackle: a tall thin man, who speaks the broad
Scotch dialect; makes and mends fishing-tackle for members
of the university; makes bows and arrows for those who
belong to the Archery Society; is an indifferent musician,
occasionally amuses under-graduates in their apartments by
playing to them country dances and marches on the flute or
violin. He published his Life a short time since, in a thin
octavo pamphlet, entitled "The Stranger Abroad, or The
History of Myself," by MacLean.
14 Jemmy Wheeler of Magpie-lane, a bookbinder, of punning
celebrity; has published two or three excellent versified
puns in the Oxford Herald. He is a young man of good natural
abilities,
but unfortunately applies them occasionally to a loose purpose.

BY JEMMY WHEELER.
A speedy-man, by nimble foe,
Lies buried in the earth below:
The Baron Perkins,{15} Mercury
To all the university.
Men of New College, mourn his fate,
Who early died by drinking late.
BY BARON PERKINS.
Ye Oxford duns, you're done at last;
Here Smiler W——d{16} is laid fast.
No more his oak ye need assail;
He's book'd inside a wooden jail.
BY SMILER W—— OF C—— COLLEGE.
A thing called exquisite rests here:
For human nature's sake I hope,
Without uncharitable trope,
'Twill ne'er among us more appear.
15 William Perkins, alias Baron Perkins, alias the Baron, a
very jovial watchman of Holywell, the New College speedy-
man,{*} and factotum to New College.
16 Mr. W——d, alias Smiler W——d, a commoner of
——. This gentleman is always laughing or smiling; is
long-winded, and consequently pestered with duns, who are
sometimes much chagrined by repeated disappointments; but
let them be ever so crusty, he never fails in laughing them
into a good humour before they leave his room.
It was over Smiler's oak in——, that some wag had printed
and stuck up the following notice:
Men traps and spring guns
Set here to catch duns.
* A speedy-man at New College is a person employed to take
a letter to the master of Winchester school from the warden
of New College, acquaint-ing him that a fellowship or
scholarship is become vacant in the college, and requiring
him to send forthwith the next senior boy. The speedy-man
always performs his journey on foot, and within a given
time.

BY LILLYMAN LIONISE.
Here rests a poet—heaven keep him quiet,
For when above he lived a life of riot;
Enjoy'd his joke, and drank his share of wine—
A mad wag he, one Horace Eglantine.{17}

The good old orthodox beverage now began to display its potent effects upon the heads and understandings of the party. All restraint being completely banished by the effect of the liquor, every one indulged in their characteristic eccentricities. Dick Gradus pleaded his utter incapability to sing or produce an impromptu rhyme, but was allowed to substitute a prose epitaph on the renowned school-master of Magdalen parish, Fatty T—b,{18} who lay snoring under the table. "It shall be read over him in lieu of burial service," said Echo. "Agreed, agreed," vociferated all the party; and Jemmy

17 This whim of tagging rhymes and epitaphs, adopted by
Horace Eglantine, is of no mean authority. During the
convivial administration of Lord North, when the ministerial
dinners were composed of such men as the Lords Sandwich,
Weymouth, Thurlow, Richard Rigby, &c, various pleasantries
passed current for which the present time would be deemed
too refined. Among others, it was the whim of the day to
call upon each member, after the cloth was drawn, to tag a
rhyme to the name of his left hand neighbour. It was first
proposed by Lord Sandwich, to raise a laugh against the
facetious Lord North, who happened to sit next to a Mr.
Mellagen, a name deemed incapable of a rhyme. Luckily,
however, for Lord North, that gentleman had just informed
him of an accident that had befallen him near the pump in
Pall Mall; when, therefore, it came to his turn, he wrote
the following distich:—
Oh! pity poor Mr. Mellagen,
Who walking along Pall Mall,
Hurt his foot when down he fell,
And fears he won't get well again.
18 Fatty T——, better known as the sixpenny schoolmaster:
a little fat man, remarkable for his love of good living.

Jumps,{19} the parish clerk of Saint Peter's, was instantly mounted on a chair, at the head of the defunct schoolmaster, to recite the following whim:—

Epitaph on a Glutton.
Beneath this table lie the remains of Fatty T***;
Who more than performed the duties of
An excellent eater, an unparalleled drinker, and
A truly admirable sleeper.
His stomach was as disinterested
As his appetite was good; so that
His impartial tooth alike chewed
The mutton of the poor,and
The turtle of the rich.