Oxford Days; or, How Ross Got His Degree

by F. E. Weatherly

Another happy pair emerged from another dim corner of the ante-chapel, when the service was over—Crawford and the little lady, who doubtless has not been forgotten, best known by the title “Blue-eyes.” She, too, had in attendance on her a mother and sister; and they, too, had been sitting in the choir. So that altogether, when the introductions took place in the cloisters, all mentally agreed that the party was a most symmetrical one—two mothers, two sisters, and two pairs of lovers.

After dinner at their respective lodgings the two parties met in Grove Street, and went to the Broad Walk to see and contribute to the show of visitors. The Vicar pronounced a melancholy eulogium on the glories of past Show Sundays, from which the present was a sad falling-off, caused chiefly as he explained by the indiscriminate admission of the “Town,” and the consequent absence of the “Gown” element. His hearers, however, having no historic past with which to contrast the present, though they listened submissively to his diatribes, enjoyed themselves immensely, stared at everybody, wondered, and questioned.

All the morning of Monday, Frank was engaged at a committee meeting of the Masonic Fête, of which he was a steward: and as he and one or two others were decidedly opposed to the general plan of disposal of tickets, the meetings were not so peaceable as hitherto; he used to return hot, tired, and annoyed. But Rose’s presence soon restored him to his wonted equanimity.

On Monday afternoon there was a concert given by the Philharmonic Society in the Sheldonian Theatre, and after a hurried tea he took his party to the river to see the procession of boats. He had tickets for them for the ’Varsity barge, and having got them good seats at the lower corner, next to the Brasenose barge, hurried off to his own barge to put on his boating clothes. To Rose and Mary, who had never seen any river-boat except the “tubs” at Porchester, the long slender craft were objects of much wonder, and they thoroughly enjoyed the sight of the many “Eights” and “Torpids” rowing up and saluting Paul’s, the head boat, which lay close under the ’Varsity barge. The cox—a facetious young gentleman—could not resist the pleasure of shouting every few minutes, “Eyes in the boat!” as he caught the eyes of his crew wandering to the many fair faces that were looking down at them from beneath the awning.

One by one the boats rowed up—it is to be feared not in the best style, for the crews were for the most part mere “scratch” affairs got together hurriedly for the procession, in the absence of the regular men who had gone down. One by one they rowed up to the post opposite to the ’Varsity barge, “easied,” and then, standing up, raised their oars and saluted the head boat, “Well rowed, Paul’s!” to commemorate the honour of the May races. Rose felt quite flattered, and took to herself half the honour at least that was being given to Frank’s boat. The proceeding repeated by some forty boats was growing somewhat monotonous, when, to the intense delight and half-terror of the ladies, one Eight upset—on purpose, of course; and there was much merriment over the intentionally assumed danger and frantic efforts to get out of the crowded water. When all the boats had saluted, they turned at Folly Bridge (with what difficulty coxswains know to their cost), and dropped down the stream to their respective barges.

Those who embark on the festivities of Commemoration have not much time to spend in dreaming. Rose would fain have gone down the river quietly in the cool of the evening; and yet—and yet—the thoughts of dancing were perhaps sweeter.

Back to the town streamed the crowds: some to the Wadham concert; some to rest before dressing for the University ball; many to summon up their strength and energy for both. Among the latter were Mrs. Ross and Mary, Rose and Frank. The fathers dined at Christ-Church, and spent a cosy evening in the Common Room—the Vicar chatting away unceasingly with old friends, and Mr. Ross making a very pleasant and amused listener.

It was a lovely evening, and most of the people walked to Wadham—one of the many things that struck the country folks as strange and yet pleasant. The concert was held in the College Hall, beautifully decorated for the purpose. After the first part, every one adjourned to the gardens, where refreshments were served in a large tent, and then wandered about, enjoying the cool air till the second part began. Frank and his party did not return to the Hall, but went to the Corn Exchange, to the University ball. And what a night they had! He and Rose forgot to count how many times they danced together. Mary had partners in abundance, for Frank’s friends were there in great force; and they were all longing for a dance with Rose, but had chiefly to console themselves with Mary, for Frank could not spare many dances. However, from Mary’s happy face, as they walked down the High in the sweet early morning air, Frank inferred that the consoling process had been not unpleasant for all parties concerned.

Tuesday morning brought the much-needed rest, taken by some in chairs at home, by others in punts on the river (Frank and Rose preferred the latter). Tuesday afternoon—the flower-show held in the gardens of New College. A Commemoration flower-show is more than a flower-show. In fact, the flowers are almost the last thing regarded. Tuesday evening—New College concert, always one of the best, and the Masonic ball. Rose and Mary again in much request, but the former too deeply engaged to Frank to be able to spare many dances. To this ball Mr. Ross, being a Mason, went as a matter of course, and he even succeeded in enticing the Vicar. The latter had a lurking love of vestments, but Porchester gave him no encouragement; here, however, seeing the aprons and scarves, and the cloaks of the Templars, he thought he might satisfy his love. He would be a Mason, and though unable to disport himself in picturesque attire to his congregation in church, he might do so to his heart’s content to his brethren in the secrecy of lodge-meetings, or the publicity of such a ball as this. So strongly was he enamoured of the notion, that over supper, in a quiet corner with Mr. and Mrs. Ross, he asked that gentleman to propose him for election at a lodge in a town not far from Porchester, of which he was Worshipful Master.