“The first day of paper work is over; I am sorry to say that I have not satisfied myself at all. Although logic was my strongest point as I thought, yet through nervousness, or some other cause, I acquitted myself in a very slovenly manner; and I feel nervous and down-hearted about the remainder of the work, because I know that I am not so strong on those points as I was in logic. I feel inclined myself to put off my degree, but I should like to know what you think about it; I could certainly get through, but I do not think I should do myself any credit, and I am sure I should not satisfy myself. I shall continue at the paper work till I hear from you. I should be very willing to give up any plans which I have formed for the vacation, and read quietly at home; and I am sure I could put the affair beyond a doubt with a little more reading. But if you think I had better get rid of it at once, I will continue. I am in very good health, only, as I tell you, nervous and out of spirits.
“Yours affectionately,
“G. E. Hughes.”
His nervousness was out of place, as I ascertained afterwards from his tutor, that the Examiners were very much pleased with his paper work. Indeed, I think that he himself soon got over his nervousness, and was well satisfied with his prospects when his turn came for vivâ voce examination. I was foolish enough to choose the same day for sitting in the Schools, a ceremony one had to perform in the year preceding one’s own examination. It involved attendance during the whole day, listening to the attack of the four experts in row at the long table, on the intellectual works of the single unfortunate, who sat facing them on the other side. This, when the victim happens to be your brother, is a severe and needless trial of nerves and patience.
For some time, however, I was quite happy, as George construed his Greek plays capitally, and had his Aristotle at his finger ends. He was then handed on to the third Examiner, who opened Livy and put him on somewhere in the bewildering Samnite wars, and, when he had construed, closed the book as if satisfied, just putting him a casual question as to the end of the campaign, and its effect on home politics at Rome. No answer, for George was far too downright to attempt a shot; and, as he told me afterwards, had not looked at this part of his Livy for more than a year. Of course other questions followed, and then a searching examination in this part of the history, which showed that my brother knew his Arnold’s Rome well enough, but had probably taken up his Livy on trust, which was very nearly the truth. I never passed a more unpleasant hour, for I happened to be up in this part of Livy, and, if the theories of Mesmerism were sound, should certainly have been able to inspire him with the answers. As it was, I was on the rack all the time, and left the Schools in a doleful state of mind. I felt sure that he must lose his first class, and told the group of our men so, who gathered in the Schools quadrangle to see the Honours list posted. The Mouse, on the other hand, swore roundly that he was certain of his first, offering to back his opinion to any amount. I did not bet, but proved to be right. His name came out in the second class, there being only five in the first; and we walked back to Oriel a disconsolate band; the Mouse, I really believe, being more cast down than any of the party. I never told him that in my opinion he was himself not a little responsible.
He was obliged to take his own name off the books shortly afterwards, and started for the Cape, leaving Crib and Jet, the only valuable possession I imagine that he had in the world, to my brother. They were lovingly tended to a good old age. Their old master joined the Mounted Rifles, in which corps (we heard at second hand, for he never wrote a letter) he fully maintained his character for fine riding and general recklessness, till he broke down altogether, and died some two years later. It is a sad little history, which carries its own moral.