“Hip, hip, hurra, hurra, hurra!” drowned the rest, while Power, taking off the doctor’s cap, replaced it by a foraging cap, very much to the amusement of the party.
“There is no penalty the law permits of that I shall not—”
“Help the doctor,” said Melville, placing a glass of punch in his unconscious hand.
“Now for a ‘Viva la Compagnie!’” said Telford, seating himself at the piano, and playing the first bars of that well-known air, to which, in our meetings, we were accustomed to improvise a doggerel in turn.
“I drink to the graces, Law, Physic, Divinity,
Viva la Compagnie!
And here’s to the worthy old Bursar of Trinity,
Viva la Compagnie!”
“Viva, viva la va!” etc., were chorussed with a shout that shook the old walls, while Power took up the strain:
“Though with lace caps and gowns they look so like asses,
Viva la Compagnie!”
They’d rather have punch than the springs of Parnassus,
Viva la Compagnie!
What a nose the old gentleman has, by the way,
Viva la Compagnie!
Since he smelt out the Devil from Botany Bay, [1]
Viva la Compagnie!
[Footnote:1 Botany Bay was the slang name given by college men to a new square rather remotely situated from the remainder of the college.]
Words cannot give even the faintest idea of the poor bursar’s feelings while these demoniacal orgies were enacting around him. Held fast in his chair by Lechmere and another, he glowered on the riotous mob around like a maniac, and astonishment that such liberties could be taken with one in his situation seemed to have surpassed even his rage and resentment; and every now and then a stray thought would flash across his mind that we were mad,—a sentiment which, unfortunately, our conduct was but too well calculated to inspire.
“So you’re the morning lecturer, old gentleman, and have just dropped in here in the way of business; pleasant life you must have of it,” said Casey, now by far the most tipsy man present.