Ladies in bonnets and dresses of every shade and colour are seated closely together, no break occurring by the appearance of a figure in black broadcloth, and a white tie, as from this gallery gentlemen are entirely excluded. And here for many hours sat Mary Armstrong and her aunt, enjoying with amused surprise the performances in the gallery above them, where persons and subjects were named only to be received with cheers or groans, as it best suited the ten or twelve hundred wild spirits there assembled.
Perhaps in the time of which we write these said wild spirits were more under the control of their own good sense than others have been lately, and therefore were not above submitting to the rules of the university. Most certainly when the dons entered, and the business of the day commenced, they did suppress the noisy shouting, and treat their superiors, in learning at least, with some deference; and although now and then there would occur a little outbreak of mirth and drollery, the Sheldonian Theatre had not yet aspired, as it has lately, to the dignity of a "bear-garden."
Mary Armstrong therefore could listen with but little interruption to the Latin oration and the delivery of the prize poem—the latter most attractive to a girl of intellectual tastes. Indeed, all that took place possessed for her the attraction of novelty, and tired as she felt, she could not help saying to her aunt as they rose to leave the place—
"Oh, aunty, I'm sorry it's all over."
"Why, my dear child, you must be tired to death; it is nearly three o'clock, and we've been here ever since half-past ten."
"Oh, aunt, have I kept you here all this time on my account? I'm so sorry. I did not feel tired, and I forgot to think of you; why did you not tell me?"
"Nonsense, dear Mary! it is not likely I should wish to spoil your pleasure. But see, here are the gentlemen, and they have got a carriage for us to ride to the hotel. How very thoughtful!"
Mary also acknowledged herself tired now the excitement was over, and gladly seated herself in the carriage by her aunt, with a sense of relief at not having to walk.
Yet after a rest she was quite ready to accompany her cousin and Henry Halford to the afternoon service at Magdalen. Mary felt she could never be too tired to enjoy the sweet choral services at this and other college chapels.
After dinner the young people proposed a stroll in Christchurch meadows.