“We 'll illustrate by a diagram, then.”
“I say, Bob,” whispered the younger, “let us find out with whom he is;” then, turning to me, said, “Where do you live here?”
“Yonder,” said I, “where that lamp is.”
“Mr. Lyndsay's chambers?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right,” cried the younger; “we'll show you the secret of matriculation.”
“Come along, my young friend,” said the elder, in the same pompous tone he had used at first, “let us teach you to drink of that Pierian spring which 'Labitur et labetur in omne volubile oevum.'”
I believe it was the fluent use of the unknown tongue which at once allayed any mistrust I might have felt of my new acquaintances; however that may be, there was something so imposing in the high-sounding syllables that I yielded at once, and followed them into another and more remote quadrangle.
Here they stopped under a window, while one gave a loud whistle with his fingers to his lips; the sash was immediately thrown up, and a handsome, merry-looking face protruded. “Eh!—what!—Taylor and Ward,” cried he, “what's going on?”
“Come down, Burton; here's a youth for matriculation,” cried the younger.