"It must be a very wearisome office," remarked our freshman, who fully believed all that was told to him.
"Wearisome, indeed; and that's the reason why they are obliged to change the Vice-Chancellors so often. It would kill most people, only they are always selected for their strength, - and height," he added, as a brilliant idea just struck him.
They had turned down Magpie Lane, and so by Oriel College, where one of the fire-plug notices had caught Mr. Larkyns' eye. "You see that," he said; "well, that's one of the plates they put up to record the Vice's height. F.P. 7 feet, you see: the initials of his name, - Frederick Plumptre!"
"He scarcely seemed so tall as that," said our hero, "though certainly a tall man. But the gown makes a difference, I suppose."
"His height was a very lucky thing for him, however," continued Mr. Larkyns; "I dare say when you have heard that it was only those who stood high in the University that were elected to rule it, you little thought of the true meaning of the term?"
"I certainly never did," said the freshman, innocently; "but I knew that the customs of Oxford must of course be very different from those of other places."
"Yes, you'll soon find that out," replied Mr. Larkyns, meaningly. "But here we are at Merton, whose Merton ale is as celebrated as Burton ale. You see the man giving in the letters to the porter?
Well, he's one of their principal men. Each college does its own postal department; and at Merton there are fourteen postmasters, [8] for they get no end of letters there."