[[10]] Oxford city has a sheriff of its own; our hero was the High Sheriff of Oxfordshire, and so welcomed the Judges to the County town.
[[11]] Etonice for being frightened, or alarmed at, as may be illustrated by the following imaginary talk between two lower boys:—"I say, old fellow, who funks a flogging?" "Not I, my boy! but I am in a precious stew about that licking Box Major promised me!"
[[12]] "In my mind's eye, Horatio."—Hamlet.
[[13]] A somewhat abstruse and curious simile, at the first blush apparently paradoxical, somewhat akin to "Aut Cæsar, aut nullus." The author can vouch for the truth of it, as he heard it delivered.
[[14]] The break that occurs here in the MS. seems to prove that the Sheriff's promises were but partially fulfilled. There is ground for the hypothesis that a sort of mutual flooring took place between the sheriff and the bottle; in other words, that as the sheriff floored the bottle, so the bottle returned the compliment, and effectually floored the sheriff!
PART II.
"Gentlemen from London; distinguished foreigners,
anything."—PICKWICK.
'Twas noon, in fact old Tom[[1]] had just rung out
The mid-day hour. The crowd that hung about
The doors of that once famous hostelrie,
When 'neath the fostering sway of the Dupree,[[2]]
Had almost gaped and gazed their utmost fill,
Yet linger'd there, and gaped and wonder'd still;
As when in passing some secluded square,
I've seen a crowd of ragged urchins stare
With all attention and uplifted gaze
At a small theatre, covered with green baize,
Where Punch performs, with most discordant squeak,
His merry antics; now on gibbet's peak
Hanging (the rogue) the constable on high;
Now whopping Judy, whose most piteous cry
Rings through the square and stops the passers by—
So did the crowd expectingly surround,
Jostling with push and thrust and oaths profound,
Gathering from every part, both near and far,
The gate of Oxford's fast declining "Star."
But what's the row? There's something to be done;
It looks as if this shindy meant some fun,
Having the entrée of this famed hotel,
We'll enter! "I say, Bob, just touch the bell."
"Coming, sir, d'rectly." Well, Smith[[3]] what's the cause
Of this tumultuous gathering and noise;
What's in the wind? we're just from London come,
Let's have the news! I'll bet it something rum."
"Oh, Sirs, the Sheriff causes all the fuss!
Excuse me, gents, I can't stay chattering thus;—
What shall I get ye? mutton chops for two?
Or a grill'd fowl, or will some cutlets do?
The cook's half-roasted—house is very full,
The Judge is coming—you'll not find it dull."