PREFACE.

These little sketches must not be taken too seriously, and it must not be imagined that they describe the most prominent characteristics of the good sportsmen portrayed in them. We have only turned our attention to the lightest side of their ’Varsity careers because we think that the most amusing; but nearly every one of the Undergrads referred to has distinguished himself in some less lurid but more useful way. Five ‘Blues’ altogether have been amassed among the gentlemen who move about and have their being herein; while the Pilot upset the odds of 33 to 1 freely laid against him, scraped through on the rails with a rush at the finish, and secured a creditable ‘First.’ When he is Archbishop of Canterbury, Freddy hopes to be in the Cabinet, and, it appears already during the short year that has elapsed since we all ‘went down,’ that Squiff is well on his way to ruling a Province in India. Who knows whether he and the Pilot, in alliance, may not yet be the means of converting that most hearty blot of Ink the Rajah of Jellipore!

ONE AUTHOR.

THE OTHER.

London, May, 1904.

CONTENTS.

[1] [2]

RED PAINT AT OXFORD.

[3]

I. ON MOTORING TO TOWN.

Freddy said it was very cheap, and so I went, having only seven and sixpence, which I had borrowed from our landlady.

Freddy had less.

Soon after eight I was aroused by Freddy’s acrobatic treble and the shrieks of an impossible check suit.

He mentioned that he was coming to breakfast with me as the men in his digs never came down till ten.

Just then the Pilot announced in a loud and penetrating voice that ‘a perspiring stinkocar had arrived outside’ and so I hastened on my dressing to the accompaniment of ‘The Miller’s Daughter,’ played by Freddy with one finger and the loud pedal down.

In the middle of the second kidney there was a loud report from the street, and Mrs. MacNab, whose cat consumes an abnormal quantity of our whisky, rushed into the room exclaiming that ‘the Chuffer had brought round the hengine.’

[4]

Hastily rising I ran down into the street and found a pair of legs performing strange antics on the kerbstone, while their owner’s head appeared to be in the petrol tank, at least a voice from that direction declared ‘the whole of the —— —— petrol has gone and (adjectived) itself away.’

This edifying remark was accompanied by a series of alarming though apparently harmless reports which did not in the least affect the equanimity of the person under the car.

By this time Freddy, having consumed ‘kidneys and bacon for three,’ appeared in the doorway, disguised in a mangy fur coat and a pair of hideous black goggles.

He straightway proceeded to haul the unknown out of the petrol tank by his legs, at the same time enquiring with unnecessary heat ‘Why they had not pumped that mess in at the shop?’

To which query the Chauffeur replied that ‘They never did nothink at the shop.’

This answer appeared to satisfy Frederick, who boarded the smell-cart without further parley, and, having seated the Chauffeur behind, pounced upon a sort of lever arrangement, whereupon the car gave two awesome leaps, I jumped aboard, and we found ourselves at some distance from the house.

The Pilot, who appeared in a dressing-gown at the top window, bestowed a pantomimic blessing on us as we shot away, followed by the ironical cheers of two small boys and the Swithin’s Hall man from next door,[5] who had kept an early chapel and was accordingly most obnoxious.

We had scarcely passed Magdalen when Freddy informed me in a hurried gasp that we were bound for London, which communication constrained me to remind him that our joint capital only amounted to thirteen and six, but he merely muttered something unprintable and put on full speed.

We narrowly missed a milkman in Iffley Road and an early bicyclist only just escaped an equally early death.

It was at this point that P.C. Robert Swiller hove in sight; we only noticed a red and angry face but failed to catch his remarks, which, to judge from the way he stamped on the pavement, must have been of a forcible nature.

I think that after this I must have dozed—the Swithin’s Hall man plays till 1.30 a.m.—for the next thing I remember was a violent concussion which threw a heavy oil-can on to my foot and the Chauffeur into the ditch.

Freddy, whose ordinary conversation is sprinkled with epithets that do not bear repetition, referred to the ancient rustic whose hay-cart we had shattered, as ‘a d—d old crawler,’ and added insult to injury by enquiring why his rotten hearse was in the middle of the road.

On the yokel pointing out that our car was in fact in that position, and that his cart was almost in the ditch, Freddy repeated his former statement and seemed to think that that closed the discussion. Not so the rustic, who showed an aggressive desire for compensation,[6] which was only appeased by Freddy generously presenting him with my card and remarking that I would see he was paid.

After a short inspection of the ruins we proceeded, and no further incident occurred until we reached Maidenhead, where we bagged a chicken and a small spaniel. Freddy declared that their loss would not be felt and we went straight ahead.

In the next village, Freddy, who resembles a blotting-pad in his capacity for absorbing liquid, stopped abruptly before the ‘Sow and Scissors’ for a reviver.

After this operation, I, mindful of our victims at Maidenhead, firmly declined to mount the car again unless Freddy gave up the steering wheel to the Chauffeur; this he did, and we soon reached Slough.

Shortly afterwards we entered the village of Little Pudley at thirty miles an hour, marking our passage by a slight entanglement with the village pump; however Freddy succeeded in jerking off the handle before it caught him in the wind, and so no harm was done beyond leaving a portion of our splash-board in the well. The calm of our progress through Hounslow and Chiswick was unbroken, and I was wiping the dust from my eyes preparatory to a gentle snooze, when without any warning except a violent shock, which threw my hat into the neighbouring gutter, the car stopped abruptly; and although we tried each of the handles in turn and subsequently all together, the sparrow-starver remained motionless.

[7]

Frederick then spoke.

When the air had cleared we discovered that the Chauffeur was again seeking the seclusion of his beloved petrol tank, but reappeared with astonishing rapidity just in time to avoid a shower of greasy black liquid which spread itself about the pavement.

Freddy shrieked ‘jump,’ and we jumped.

Immediately afterwards the car, groaning hideously, made with fearful speed for a saddler’s shop, and was only prevented from entering by an opportune collision with a lamp-post. This appeared to annoy the death-trap, for it blew out its bonnet and then reclined peacefully against a metropolitan water-trough, from which all efforts to move it were unavailing.

After a hasty palaver we consigned the dam-thing to the Chauffeur and made for the Shepherd’s Bush Tube. We journeyed as far as Notting Hill Gate, and there Freddy, having borrowed my few remaining shillings, left me and went in search of his female cousin. This compelled me to lunch with one Timmins, a man of the Inner Temple, honoured by my acquaintance, but as he had had no warning of my arrival I was obliged to make the best of two old chicken legs and some rather older Gorgonzola, and after borrowing a couple of sovereigns from him, I treated him to a theatre. On crossing Piccadilly, after the performance, we were surprised to see Freddy engaged in altercation with a cabman in front of the Criterion. We crossed over to speak to him and the[8] guileless one seized the opportunity to borrow half a sovereign from Timmins, whose purse and patience are inexhaustible. Then having disposed of the quarrelsome Jehu we decided to take the Templar to dinner at the Cabanero, which invitation he readily accepted, possibly with the idea of getting some return for his money.

To fill up the time Timmins suggested the Aquarium, a place that both Freddy and I detest, but as we had borrowed about fifty shillings from the unfortunate man, we felt that this was the moment for a graceful concession.

On our arrival we let Timmins out of the hansom first, but in spite of this subtle move I was compelled to pay the cabby, and then firmly resisting an impassioned appeal from a golden-haired lady in the entrance to give her a bracelet or something else, we passed the turnstiles and made with one accord for the nearest bar.

I am unable to state the precise number of cherry brandies that Freddy had consumed during his absence from my care, but his lady cousin appeared to have had a distinctly exhilarating effect upon him. At any rate after two lagers had been followed by a sherry and bitters, he manifested a desire to dance, which was only suppressed by the advent of a uniformed attendant with a Bow-Street-and-seven-shillings-or-three-days glitter in his eye. The small sum of half-a-crown mollified this dignitary, a view of whose face was—as Freddy remarked—cheap at the price.

[9]

Then, while Freddy and I were watching a lady in scanty costume who was advertised to dive from the roof into a six-foot tank, Timmins disappeared. After forty minutes’ diligent searching, which involved on Freddy’s part a frivolous conversation with the young lady at the assorted jewellery stall, we came upon the wanderer.

He was seated in the centre of the crystal maze and a strong odour of patchouli, exchanging vows of undying affection with a lady of a certain age and uncertain character.

The cab, in which we then set out for the Cabanero, cost me another half-crown, and the dinner which followed took nearly all our remaining bullion.

However it was a great success.

Towards the end Freddy expressed a violent antipathy to the colour of the Turkish gentleman who served us with coffee, and was only quieted by the strains of the ‘Girl from Kays’ from the orchestra.

Dinner over, we were going downstairs, when Freddy, who appeared unable to find the bannisters, grasped the hand of an ancient and enamelled dowager who was laboriously ascending, and, greeting her effusively, enquired ‘if her mother knew she was out.’ Leaving the venerable relic speechless and perspiring, we saved ourselves from rough treatment at the hands of the attendants by bolting hatless into Piccadilly Circus, and here we saw the last of Timmins.

He leant into our cab, and after explaining pathetically[10] that he had no money to pay his washing bill and that he had pawned his mother’s photograph, propped himself wearily against the railings and took no further interest in the proceedings.

Our arrival at Paddington a few minutes after nine was marked by wild cheers on Freddy’s part and the disbursement of my last eighteenpence. A short interview with the station-master resulted in the exchange of my card for two third singles to Oxford, and a final shilling’s worth at the expense of Blandford, who was returning from the funeral of an imaginary aunt, filled up the time till the train left.

After a few minutes’ travelling Freddy remarked that he would feel more comfortable in the rack, and proceeded to climb up there. A little later we covered him with a seat cushion as he felt cold, and all slept peacefully till Didcot.

When we reached the draughty junction Blandford and I left Freddy, who appeared to be asleep, in search of lip-salve; but we had barely reached the refreshment room when loud crashes, followed by curious oaths and several heavy bumps, brought us back to find Freddy struggling with an inspector and two porters, while a lamp and the window of the third class waiting-room were much the worse for wear.

We conveyed him to our carriage—N.B. I gave the inspector my card—and except for throwing out a seat cushion at Culham, he relapsed into comparative inaction.

[11]

The cab in which we reached 129 St. Aldate’s was paid for by Mrs. Corker, and Blandford stayed to see Freddy to bed.

When I arrived at our digs the door was opened by Mrs. MacNab, whose cat seemed to have been imbibing with unusual freedom; and I found the Pilot, who had just returned from a bridge party, anxiously measuring the decanter with a pipe-cleaner.

It just occurred to me, as I was going up to bed, that I had given my card to the hay-cart proprietor, to the station-master at Paddington, and the inspector at Didcot, all of whom would have to be satisfied in the morning, while I had to repay Timmins two pounds odd, and liberally fee the Oxford porter whom Freddy had struck somewhere amidships.

Freddy said it would be very cheap; well, perhaps it was.

[12] [13] [14] [15]

II. A QUIET EVENING.

Accrington called it coffee, but Reggie stipulated for a bottle of brandy to be kept in the cupboard. As Freddy and I climbed the staircase in the corner of the Quad we heard the strident tones of our host proclaiming that he was ‘looking for a needle in a haystack.’ This, however, did not in any way justify Freddy’s throwing an empty tobacco tin at him immediately on entering the room, and it seemed only just that the others should show their disapproval of this action by throwing their cushions at Freddy. I alone missed him, but the Pilot was rude enough to say that I must have aimed at Freddy, because I got in a bull’s-eye on a tray containing glasses and syphons which was balanced on a Japanese stool in the corner.

When peace had been restored, Reggie, addressing no one in particular, remarked, ‘The Pilot was seen at the gathering at Martyrs’ Memorial last night.’

‘You’re an artistic liar,’ replied the Pilot, who is not as meek as he looks. And the slight struggle that ensued awoke Fatty, who was peacefully perusing ‘Pick-me-up’ in the corner.

[16]

‘I don’t know whose rooms these are,’ he murmured sleepily, ‘but it is customary among gentlemen to offer refreshment to a visitor upon arrival;’ and then, after a plaintive pause, ‘I have been here just three-quarters of an hour.’ After his thirst had been satisfied he was led to the piano, and proceeded to play ‘Hiawatha,’ ‘in order,’ as Reggie explained, ‘to get it over.’

‘Henry Dalston,’ said Freddy, addressing the pianist, ‘as a balloon you are incomparable, but as an ivory-thumper you only take a gulf, and if the same would swallow you up it would be better still.’

‘He takes,’ said Accrington wearily, ‘he takes at least five pounds’ worth of use out of my piano every term; “Hiawatha” about plays itself now.’

‘Then why don’t you make him hire a piano?’ said Reggie.

‘He used to,’ put in Freddy with a gurgling laugh, ‘until we played it the night he was in London, and the Dean had it sent out of College before he came back.’

These revelations were interrupted by Reggie suggesting bridge.

He once taught a Colonial Governor the game at a Swiss mountain hotel, and the Pilot, who was with him, said he made enough to keep them in smokes for a week.

‘Reggie’s getting too uppish about bridge,’ I remarked, as Accrington produced the cards, ‘he thinks he’s rather an authority.’

‘Nobody,’ replied Reggie, severely, ‘nobody is an[17] authority on any game till he can be sure of winning money off his opponents.’

‘How many does it take to play bridge?’ asked Fatty, peevishly, from the window-seat; ‘I hate these card games, they’re always so dull.’

‘Then you shan’t be dull, Henry dearest,’ said Freddy, landing upon Fatty’s lower chest, and then, as he led him by his starboard ear into Accrington’s bedder, ‘Come with your Frederick, and let us cuddle together.’

As they disappeared, Accrington, moved by reminiscences of former quiet evenings, called after them uneasily:

‘Kindly refrain from throwing my pyjamas out of the window, and do not, O do not, spread water about the floor.’

‘The only complaint I have to make against the owner of this public-house,’ said Reggie, as the Pilot dealt in the slow and solemn manner peculiar to him, ‘is that when I came in at the ordinary excursion hour of 1.15 this morning, and demanded a “corpse reviver,” the licensed victualler, who had retired to bed, refused to provide me with anything.’

‘Freddy, who is doing contracts, says that if you don’t get what you want, you may take what you can get, so I took three oranges, a brandy-bottle, and my leave. It was only after Maberly had borrowed the bottle, and served it out to seven men whom he found sleeping in his rooms on his return from the theatre,[18] that Accrington arrived in a costume that was hardly decent, to remark that I had taken the methylated spirits. Of course we went round to see what could be done, but, as Maberly said they had got through three-quarters of the bottle, we decided to leave them in peace.’

‘Especially as,’ added Accrington, ‘when we shouted at them from the Quad, a coal-box, two boot-trees, and an alarm clock suddenly came through the window more or less in our direction.’

‘The only sad thing about it,’ said the Pilot, as he quietly trumped his opponent’s trick, ‘is that Accrington must have meant to drink those spirits himself, which in one so young is positively painful.’

‘Two in diamonds,’ I said, as I put down the score.

‘And one in the footbath,’ yelled Freddy through the open door, as a splash was heard, and Fatty appeared, dripping from the effects of an immersion in Accrington’s tub.

I rose from the table and wiped Fatty tenderly down with an antimacassar; I have noticed that he always repays attentions like these by a sumptuous luncheon, or the gift of a choice cigar imported from Borneo by Dalston senior.

‘Your deal, Martha,’ said the Pilot, as Fatty collapsed heavily into the best chair.

I had just started when a sound of frenzied yells from the Quad caused me to pause for a moment; the shrieks grew louder, and a string of guttural oaths in very low German floated up the staircase.

[19]

‘Sport the oak,’ shrieked Accrington, but as Freddy reached the door it flew open, and the portly form of von Graussman, our Rhodes Scholar from the Fatherland, burst in and fell flat upon the floor.

‘I did my best, you fellows,’ panted Cobson, who followed with a red and perspiring face, ‘but he’s rather fatigued, and he’s been sitting on the flower-bed under the Dean’s window for the last half-hour. We’ve put him to bed three times, but he only threw his water-jug out of window, and then came down and posed as Adam in the Quad.’

Von Graussman suddenly sat up, and remarked in a disconnected and peevish way, ‘Hoch der Kaiser,’ after which patriotic effort he mechanically reached for the brandy-bottle on the table near at hand.

As he removed the stopper with a shaky hand, his eye suddenly lighted on Fatty, who was gazing dreamily at the ceiling. A sudden crack followed, as the decanter caught the unfortunate Henry on the lower jaw, and spread its contents down his waistcoat. Fatty rose with a yell which would have done credit to a wild Indian, and, picking up the poker, made for the German who appeared to be quite unconscious of what he had done.

As he had propped himself against the fender and was softly crooning the ‘Wacht am Rhein,’ even Fatty saw that violent retaliation was out of the question, and having emptied a syphon down von Graussman’s back, in order, as he said, to wake him up, he retired to[20] change his suit. The silence which followed his disappearance was broken by Cobson remarking that it was ‘time to get old Grausser to bed.’