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CHAPTER VI
“THE FLYING TERMS.”

It was a Thursday night; and the rooms of the “Union” were crowded, for the debate was to be opened by a popular member. A few men were in the reading-rooms, indifferent to the subject and its mover; a few were in the writing-room, hurrying over their letters, in order to be in time for the “private business,” which is usually the most amusing part of the evening’s proceedings. There were several important telegrams posted in the Hall, and the stopping of members to read them considerably added to the general confusion. Ladies were hurrying upstairs to the little uncomfortable gallery,⁹ with amused looks of curiosity, or the calm equanimity of accustomed visitors. No one to-night waited to read, either for edification or for amusement, the endless notices of those private tutors, to whom advertisement seems a dire necessity—those manifestos of all shades, pleading, peremptory, apologetic, confidential, and confident, which suggest the question:—“Where are the pupils, to be instructed by these willing and anxious instructors?”

The steward’s room is in possession of two attendants only, for the steward and his indefatigable son are upstairs in the committee-room, in attendance upon the committee.

It is eight o’clock, and the debating-room is crammed. Every seat is filled; but those for whom there are not seats are quite content to stand. The gallery is fringed with women’s faces, looking down upon the mass of men below. There is a murmur of suppressed conversation, which suddenly ceases on the cry of “Order.” The president enters, followed by the treasurer, librarian, and most of the members of the committee. He is in evening dress—the exception and not the rule; in his case it is the sign of honour. He has been dining, for the first time, at the High table of the college which has just elected him Fellow. To-night is his first public appearance since his election, and, being a popular man and officer, he is loudly cheered. The officers seat themselves, and in a moment the president rises and proclaims “Order,” and the business of the evening commences. He first reads a list of those members of the University proposed for election, and those already elected, and then calls upon the librarian to bring forth his list of books. That officer, a big-headed, ungainly man, with a squint, hurries through a list, to which prices and particulars are appended, and then asks any, who wish, to challenge any book or books. If any are challenged, they are temporarily withdrawn from the list, and the rest are put to the vote and carried; after which the objections are made to the particular books before challenged, and are met by the librarian with considerable ability, and the books, with one exception, carried. He then rises to propose “That ‘The Gorgon Head’ (much laughter), by Mr. Tennyson Jones, presented by the author to the library, be accepted by the society, and that a vote of thanks be given to the honourable member for his present.”

No one wishing to challenge this proposition, it is formally put and carried, with faint cheering.

The president then rises: “Does any honourable member wish to put any question to the officers of this society relative to their official duties?”

At least a dozen members rise in different parts of the room—we beg pardon—the House.

A red-headed young gentleman, with spectacles, catches first the president’s eye, and is put in possession of the House. His voice is high and shrill.

“Sir—”

“Hear! hear!” from several facetious members encouragingly.

“Sir—I wish to ask the honourable treasurer—(loud cries of ‘Speak up, sir’)—I wish to ask the honourable treasurer—”

“Hear! hear!” from a stentorian voice in one corner.

“Order! order!”

“Sir,” again resumes the luckless red-headed inquirer, “I—I—have lost my umbrella. I—I—put it in the stand on Wednesday evening—(‘Hear! hear!’)—on my way to—to—the smoking-room, and—and—and—it was not there when I came back.” And the speaker drops into his seat.

The treasurer takes no notice, but the president rises and says:—“I must remind the honourable member that any statement he may have to make must be introduced or followed by a question.”

The owner of the lost umbrella rises, and before he has opened his mouth is told to “speak up.” This time he does speak up, in very shrillness: “I wish to ask the honourable treasurer whether he will take some steps for the recovery of my umbrella.”

The treasurer is a stout youth, short of speech and of stature. He clips his sentences: “I must remind the honourable member that this society is not a police institution. I regret the loss of his umbrella. I regret still more that there are members in this society so careless or so dishonest as to remove umbrellas not belonging to them.”

“Sir”—from another corner—“I consider the answer of the honourable treasurer most unsatisfactory. I now beg to ask him whether he will take steps to prevent the robbery—(‘Oh! oh!’)—yes—robbery of the property of members of this society.”

The treasurer is again on his legs: “In answer to the last honourable member, I beg to say that as far as I know anything of the funds of this society, it is not in a position to pay for policemen to guard the umbrellas of honourable members. If honourable members value their umbrellas, I should recommend them to leave them in the steward’s room, or carry them with them into whichever of the society’s rooms they may go.”

“Sir”—from another quarter—“will you move for a committee of inquiry into the loss of umbrellas and other property?” (Loud cheers.)

By this time the treasurer is white-hot:—“No, sir!” and he flumps into his chair—(loud cheers from the treasurer’s partisans and from the admirers of his doggedness). He is not, however, yet done with.

“I beg to ask the honourable treasurer,” says a grimy-looking youth, “why there are so few nail-brushes in the lavatory?” (Roars of laughter.)

“In answer to the honourable member,” says the treasurer, “I beg to state that I have already given orders for a fresh and—as they seem so much in request—a still larger supply.” (Cheers.)

Then there is a brief space of silence.

“Does any other honourable member wish to put any questions to the officers of this society relative to their official duties?”

No one rising, the president says—

“The House will now proceed to public business;” and after waiting a few seconds, to give those who wish the chance to leave, he reads from a notice-board,—

“The motion before the House is, ‘That the present Ministry is unworthy of the confidence of this House and of the nation,’ moved by Mr. Dubber, of Trinity.”

There is a perfect uproar as Mr. Dubber rises and moves towards the table—cheers from his supporters, groans from his opponents; but he is too accustomed to the temper of his audience to take any notice. He pours out a glass of water and leisurely drinks half the contents, and waits confidently. His confidence commands attention; and in a clear, ringing voice, he proceeds to rattle away a clever résumé of the stump speeches of his political party. There is no lack to-night of speakers. No less than six rise directly he sits down.

And so the debate goes on unflaggingly until half-past ten, when, there being no more speakers, the mover replies; and then the president reads the motion once more, and says,—

“Those who are in favour of this motion will say ‘Aye;’ those who are against it will say ‘No.’”

There are nearly 500 members present, and the noise may be imagined.

“The ‘Noes’ have it,” is the president’s ruling.

“Divide! divide!” from the “Ayes;” and the president accordingly gives the order,—

“Those who are in favour of this motion will go to the right of the chair; those who are against it to the left.”

Then follows a scene of indescribable confusion. In about ten minutes’ time the numerous tellers have agreed, and the president reads the numbers,—

“Those who are in favour of this motion, 179; those who are against it, 290. The motion is therefore lost.”

Loud cheers, and the House separates.

Within a few days of the commencement of term, Frank had found his name posted for rowing—that is, for rowing under the direction of the senior men who were coaching the likely freshmen for the Torpid races, which would come off in the ensuing Lent Term; and he took so kindly to the work that he was soon regularly among the recognized set from which the crew would eventually be picked. In fact, his performances had attracted the notice of the president of the University Boat Club, and he had been “down” with the men who were being coached with a view to rowing against Cambridge. This was indeed an honour; and he strained every energy to get chosen for one of the Trial Eights that were to race at the end of term, and from which the University Eight (commonly called “the ’Varsity”) would be selected.

His wishes were fulfilled, and he was put No. 6 in what was supposed to be the better of the two boats. This, of course, insured his rowing in his College Torpid next term, and in his College Eight in the summer term, and it might have led to a seat in “the ’Varsity.”

As a matter of fact, it did not; but Frank was well content with the honour of merely rowing in the “Trials,” and more especially as the Eight in which he was rowing won the race in November. Towards the close of term he was made a Freemason, and very proud he was to tell his father, himself a Mason of some distinction, the various gossip of his lodge, “The Apollo,” which claims among its members some of England’s best-known brethren.

One other little distinction Frank had to relate on going down for the Christmas vacation, and that was the flattering notice, in the Undergraduate’s Journal, of a poem of his which had appeared in the University magazine, College Rhymes;¹⁰ and it may safely be asserted that no one in Porchester was prouder of the poet than the vicar’s daughter, who saw herself reflected in the mirror of his verse.

The Christmas vacation passed. Lent Term came, and with it the Torpids. Paul’s made five bumps, and Frank duly posted copies of the Undergraduate’s Journal, which recorded the fact, to the vicarage and to his home. But with this proud event he abandoned for the present most of his amusements, confined himself to the practice for the Eights which were coming off in May, and to his work for Moderations, which was fixed for about the same date. The college lectures not being sufficient, he found himself obliged to “put on a coach”—i.e. employ a private tutor—during the summer term; but when he got his “testamur” in June, just a week before Commemoration, he and his father both felt that the ten guineas¹¹ had been profitably expended.

CHAPTER VII
A READING PARTY

Moderations being thus thrown behind, the next step was the choice of subjects in which to take a degree. For the Second Public or Final Examination for the degree of B.A. there is yet further scope of subject allowed. Here, again, a student has the option of taking a Pass or an Honour Degree; and here also both Passmen and Classmen alike have to pass an examination in the Rudiments of Faith and Religion, the subjects of which are:—

(1) The Books of the Old and New Testament.

(2) The Holy Gospels and Acts of the Apostles in the original Greek.

(3) The Thirty-nine Articles.

But any candidate may for himself, or his parents or guardians for him, object on religious grounds to this examination, and in this case he is allowed to offer some books or subjects appointed for this purpose by the Board of Studies.

The subjects for the Pass Degree are arranged in three groups, as follows, the books specified being those which may now be offered till further notice:—

Group A

(1) Two books, either both Greek, or one Greek and one Latin; one being a Greek philosophical work, and the other a Greek or Latin historian.

e.g. Aristotle’s Ethics, Books i.-iv., together with chapters 6-10 of Book x.

Aristotle’s Politics, Books i., iii., vii.

Plato—Republic, Books i.-iv.

Herodotus—Books vii.-ix.

Livy, Books xxi.-xxiv.

Tacitus—Annals, Books i.-iv.

With questions on the subject-matter of the books offered.

(2) The outlines of Greek and Roman History, with a special period of one or the other, and English Composition.

e.g. Greek—from the Legislation of Solon to the death of Alexander the Great.

Roman—from the establishment of the Republic to the death of Domitian.

Special periods.

Greek—the Persian war; the Peloponnesian war.

Roman—the second Punic war; the reign of Tiberius.

Group B

(1) Either English History and a period or subject of English Literature, or a period of modern European History, with Political and Descriptive Geography, with English Composition in each case.

e.g. English History to 1815, with one of the following:—

(a) Piers Ploughman—the Prologue, Passus i.-vii.; Chaucer—the Prologue, the Knightes Tale, the Nonne Prestes Tale.

(b) Shakespeare—The Tempest, King Lear, Richard II., Hamlet.

(c) Dryden—Selections; Pope—Essay on Man, Epistles and Satires.

(2) French or German, including Composition and a period of Literature.

e.g. Molière, Le Tartuffe; Corneille, Les Horaces, or Racine, Athalie; Voltaire, Siècle de Louis XIV., Chapters i.-xxiv., with a general acquaintance with the History and Literature of the Age of Louis XIV.; unseen passages of French: or, Schiller, the Maid of Orleans; Goethe, Hermann and Dorothea, or Lessing, Nathan der Weise; Goethe, Wahrheit und Dichtung, Books i.-iv., with a general acquaintance with the History of the Classical period of German Literature (from Klopstock to Goethe); unseen passages of German.

(3) The Elements of Political Economy, to be read in Fawcett’s Manual, and Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Nations,” Books i. and ii.

(4) Either Stephen’s “Blackstone,” Book ii., or Justinian’s “Institutes,” omitting from Book ii., tit. 11, to Book iii., tit. 12.

Group C

(1) The Elements of Geometry, including Geometrical Trigonometry.

(2) The Elements of Mechanics, solid and fluid, treated mathematically.

(3) The Elements of Chemistry, with a practical examination.

(4) The Elements of Physics, not necessarily treated mathematically.

Of the above subjects in the three groups each candidate is examined in three, of which not more than two can be taken from any one of the three groups, and of which one must be either A (1) or B (2). The examinations in the three subjects may be passed in separate terms.

The commonest selections made are as follows:—

Group A (1)

Group B (3) and (4)

Those men who prefer History will naturally offer the outlines of Ancient History, as it works well with the text-books in Group A (1). Those who are going to the Bar or to be admitted as solicitors will naturally offer one of the branches of Law, the Roman Law being especially the favourite with Bar-students, as the Roman Law Bar Examination may be studied for and passed almost simultaneously. The choice for the Classman lies among the following:—

1. Literæ Humaniores, including—

(1) The Greek and Latin Languages.

(a) Specified books and books not specially offered.

(b) Translations into Greek and Latin Prose.

(2) The Histories of Ancient Greece and Rome.

(a) Specified periods.

(b) General knowledge of Classical Geography and Antiquities.

(3) Philosophy.

(a) Logic.

(b) The outlines of Moral Philosophy.

(c) The outlines of Political Philosophy.

3. Mathematics.

(a) Elementary Pure Mathematics.

(b) Elementary Mechanics of Solid and Fluid Bodies.

(c) Pure Mathematics.

(d) Mechanics of Solid and Fluid Bodies.

(e) Optics, Geometrical and Physical.

(f) Newton’s Principia and Astronomy.

4. Natural Science.

And the following special subjects:—

(a) Crystallography and Mineralogy.

(b) Geology and Palæontology.

(c) Zoology.

(d) Botany.

–taken respectively as supplementary to the general subjects.

5. Jurisprudence.

(1) General Jurisprudence.

The principles of Jurisprudence, the theory of Legislation, and the early history of Legal Institutions. Special reference to Austin’s Lectures, Bentham’s Principles of Morals and Legislation, and the works of Sir Henry Maine.

(2) History of English Law.

(a) Constitutional Law.

The leading principles and the following topics:—Legislative power of Parliament, the modes in which it is exercised, and its extent as to territory and persons.

The prerogatives of the Crown, the privileges of the Houses of Parliament.

The constitutional position of the Privy Council, the Ministers of the Crown, the Established Church, the Courts of Law, and the Armed Forces.

Reference to Blackstone or Stephens’ “Commentaries,” Stubbs’ “Documents Illustrative of English History,” Hallam’s “Constitutional History,” and Sir T. E. May’s “Constitutional History.”

The following statutes must be carefully read: Constitutions of Clarendon. Magna Charta, Stat. Westminster II. 13 Ed. 1, Stat. 1, c. 24. Petition of Right. Habeas Corpus Act, 31 Car. II. c. 2. Bill of Rights, 1 W. and M. Sess. 2, 2. Act of Settlement, 12 and 13 Will. III. c. 2.

(b) History of the Law of Real Property.

Reference to Blackstone or Stephens’ “Commentaries,” Digby’s “Introduction to the History of Real Property.” Principal statutes referred to in the latter must be mastered, and reference may with advantage be made to Williams’ “Treatise on the Law of Real Property.”

(3) Roman Law.

The Institutes of Gaius.

The Institutes of Justinian.

(4) English Law.

The principles of the Law of Contracts.

(5) International Law.

(a) The outlines of International Law as a system.

(b) The history of the law relating to seas, ships, and navigable rivers in time of peace.

Reference to Woolsey’s “Introduction,” and Heffter’s “Europäisches Völkerrecht,” Wheaton’s “Elements,” or “Law of Nations,” by Sir Travers Twiss. On subject (b) Ortolan’s “Diplomatie de la Mer,” livre deuxième.

6. Modern History.

(1) The continuous History of England.

(2) General History during some selected period.

(3) A special portion of History or a special Historical subject, carefully studied with reference to original authorities.

(4) Political Economy, Constitutional Law, and Political and Descriptive Geography.

(5) A subject or period of Literature (optional).

7. Theology.

(1) The Holy Scriptures (the New Testament in the Greek).

(2) Dogmatic and Symbolic Theology.

(3) Ecclesiastical History and the Fathers.

(4) The Evidences of Religion.

(5) Liturgies.

(6) Sacred Criticism and the Archæology of the Old and New Testaments.

Knowledge of Hebrew has great weight in the distribution of Honours.

Frank had always intended to go in for one of the Honour Schools, but agreed with his father that there was no necessity to avail himself of the longest allowance of time granted. He need not present himself for three years, but his father decided that two years was quite long enough, in addition to the year he had already spent. He must do what he could in the two years.

There was no dispute between father and son. Their views corresponded. Frank was to be called to the Bar, and the Honour School of Law was chosen for the degree. The subjects for this would, in a great measure, answer the further purpose of the Bar Call Examination. Mr. Ross proposed to enter Frank’s name at the Inner Temple in the ensuing Michaelmas Term. He should then “eat dinners” during the two years in which he was reading for his Oxford degree; that taken, he should have one year’s reading in a barrister’s chambers. This, he considered, ought to qualify him not only in book-work, but practically for a call. Moreover, it would give him just the necessary time to complete the statutable number of terms.

Frank was anxious to enter at once, before the Trinity Term was over, but on this point his father was firm. There was no need for such immediate hurry. As it was, he would be qualified for a call, at an age considerably below the average. Mr. Ross had noticed that the first Long Vacation had been, comparatively speaking, wasted. He had said nothing, but had resolved that the second and third should not be a repetition of the first. He therefore directed Frank to write to his college tutor, Mr. Woods, for particulars of the subjects for the Honour Law School, and for advice as to a “coach” for part of the Long Vacation; and he himself wrote to his old friend, Mr. Wodehouse, on the latter point.

Frank’s letter from Mr. Woods was as follows:—

“Paul’s.

“Dear Mr. Ross,—I am very glad to hear that you have so soon made up your mind as to the subjects in which you propose to take your degree; and I have no doubt your father’s plan of entering you at the Inner Temple next Michaelmas Term is a wise one.

“Mr. Edwards, of University College, is, I have every reason to believe, a most advisable Law ‘coach.’ He is just now arranging a reading party to Switzerland, and I should hope your father will consent to your joining. Tell him from me that reading parties are not what they were in my undergraduate days—mere pleasure-trips, in which work forms the very last consideration. The few men now who go with a reading party really go to read. You may mention my name in writing to Mr. Edwards. He will, of course, furnish you with all particulars.

“Believe me, yours sincerely,

“J. Woods.”

The letter from Mr. Wodehouse was characteristic:—

“Dear Mr. Ross,—Law is not my line, or I would take your boy myself; but I know an excellent coach, Edwards of University, who is now settling a reading party, for Switzerland, I believe. Send your boy with him; you can’t do better. I send by this post a copy of the Examination Regulations, revised to this date. Details, of course, you will get from Edwards.

“I am yours truly,

“Philip Wodehouse.”

After the letters, there was not much difficulty in deciding that Edwards was the coach to be secured. But the Swiss tour! Frank said nothing, nor did Mr. Ross—the former because he knew his father’s disposition, the latter because he would not promise what he might not be able, with justice to the rest of his family, to afford.

However, after a suspense of three days, Frank was summoned after breakfast to the study. His father had received a letter from the coach, telling him the probable cost of the tour, and he had decided to send Frank. The party would leave London on the 1st of July. They were to meet for dinner at the Grosvenor Hotel at six o’clock, and go from Victoria by the mail that catches the night-boat from Dover to Calais. Mr. Edwards added a few particulars as to books, and, rightly conjecturing this to be Frank’s first journey abroad, some suggestions as to clothes and necessaries generally.

Mr. Ross winced a little when he heard the route that was chosen. But when he had made up his mind to an expense, he was not a man to worry over the inevitable extras.

The few days of June that remained passed quickly enough. Frank, somehow, was not at home as much as his brothers and sisters could have wished. At meals there were sundry questions as to his doings, amused looks at his evident confusion, till even Mr. Ross, usually oblivious to the jokes that passed between the young folks, questioned his wife as to their meaning.

When he heard the suggestion, he at first laughed at it as ridiculous, then said the whole affair was “out of the question,” not from any dislike to Rose, for he was indeed very fond of her, and finally saying he would speak to Frank, said nothing after all.

It was a soft, sweet evening, that of June 30th, and Frank, having finished his packing, slipped out unnoticed after dinner. It was a difficult matter to avoid the prying eyes of his brothers, but the dessert that evening was unusually absorbing, and long after Mr. and Mrs. Ross had left the table, the boys were diligently making themselves ill. Seizing the opportunity, he was three fields beyond the paddock before his absence was even mentioned.

He was sad, down-hearted, romantically melancholy. And yet he had a delightful tour through Switzerland in store. Porchester had never seemed such a lovely little place. No Swiss mountains could ever have such beauty as those soft hills yonder; no glaciers the charm of the gently flowing river; no Alpine forests the sweetness of these English meadows, now silvering with the evening dew, and softening in the falling mist. He stopped by a gate. He found his initials cut there, just in one corner out of sight; and near them one other letter. Three years ago he had broken his best knife, and cut his finger, over that little work. And there it was still—lichened over now, but still legible. He would not touch it. He wondered if it would still be there when he came back. When he came back! Was the boy going to India for twenty years, or to the North Pole? Who would touch the letters? Who would even read them? Who that came by this way would be likely to stop by that uninteresting gate, and draw aside those great dock-leaves merely to see F. R. and R. clumsily carved? And who, if they saw them, would trouble to deface them?

But Frank was in love and was proportionately melancholy. And lo! as in answer to his thoughts, softly over the new-cut grass comes the vicar’s daughter.

It should be clearly understood that the pathway along which Rose came so opportunely was public, though seldom frequented. It led from the village of Porchester to a ferry, and this carried you to a hamlet, Wood Green, that lay within the vicar’s ministrations. Just now there was illness in the hamlet, and Rose used daily to visit the sick. Frank, on no such journeys bent, passed many hours of those last days of June about the fields, and crossing and re-crossing in the ferry-boat. Luckily this was worked by a marvellous contrivance of wheels, ropes, and poles, and there was no observant Charon to wonder at, and then report, the strange and repeated passages of the lawyer’s son. Last evening, at the same time and place, he had met Rose: had told her he was leaving for Switzerland: had gone so far as to ask her if she was going to Wood Green the next evening; and she, because she was Rose, told him yes. Perhaps there was another reason, the cause of which lay in him. But she never speculated. He had asked her, and she had told him. She was going to Wood Green, and why not say so?

They walked slowly, oh! so slowly, across the misty meadows. They crossed, as lazily as the stream would suffer them, the little ferry. They reached Wood Green. It was only a basket and a message that Rose had to deliver to-night, and Frank had not long to wait at the little white wicket at Vowles’s cottage. Then back again, across the ferry, and up the fields; and then, just by the gateway where they had met, they stopped, and he showed her something, pulling aside the gigantic dock-leaves—three letters, rudely cut, and covered with lichen.

“I cut them three years ago,” he said. “Was it very silly?”

“I don’t know,” she answered.

“I loved you then, Rose,” he said softly, taking her hand, “but I love you a thousand times more now, darling.”

And Rose has told him something that makes him utterly happy—something they have known these many weeks, but neither has dared to express. They are but children, but why should they not be happy? Only boy and girl, but is that any reason why their love should not be true? And so they walk back through the deepening summer night, he as proud as knight of old, and she as happy as any “fair ladye.” And then by the vicarage garden-gate they say good-bye. They have not thought of the future. The present is theirs, and that is enough. She is a simple little village girl, and he an undergraduate; that is all. But “all” is a great deal to them.

At six o’clock in the evening of July 1st, Edwards and his six pupils dined at the Grosvenor, wisely and not too well, in view of the passage that night. The party consisted of Hoskins of Brasenose, reading for Honours in Law; Lang and Kingdon of Christ Church, Maude of John’s, and Royds of Exeter, reading for the Final Pass Schools; and Frank, who had thus one companion only in work. Edwards was quite a young man. He had been married about two years, but left his wife and child at home. He was just of an age not to be “donnish,” and yet old enough to command a certain amount of necessary respect.

The pecuniary arrangements were as usual. Each was to pay his own personal expenses, and tuition-fee to Edwards at the rate of 10l. per month. But for the sake of convenience he would make the actual payments, and divide the amounts weekly.

At Victoria they broke up, for most of the men wanted to smoke. Edwards was not a smoker, and would have travelled to Dover alone had not Frank got into his compartment. The coach’s weakness in this respect was the one little difficulty on the tour, and afforded a fund of amusement to the rest, who were young enough to regard a non-smoker with feelings of surprise. With the exception of Royds, none of the seven had ever been abroad. He spoke French slightly, and had a smattering of German. Edwards could not speak a word of the former, but knew enough of the latter for comfort in travelling. No one else spoke either. Royds plumed himself on his position of superiority, not without offence to the rest of the party, who one and all joined in snubbing him whenever he forgot his relation to Edwards. He was just a source of a little “pleasant acidity.”

“I should advise you to lie down, if you’re inclined to be sea-sick,” said Royds, for the benefit of the party generally, when they were on board. “I never am.”

Edwards retired to the centre of the boat; Frank rolled himself in a rug on a bench near the central deck cabins. The rest again consoled themselves with cigars. The passage was long, for the night was foggy; but the water was calm as a duck-pond. Nevertheless, Royds looked very pale as he landed at Calais.

They reached Paris in the early sweetness of the morning. And what a charm the great city has at that hour, and to first-comers! The brightness, the laughter, the sunshine of the town in its life! What a contrast to the death and dirt of London at such an hour!