CHAPTER IV. It was not always that Bob Tracy gave way to such fits of despondency, as that which gave rise to the above train of reflections. Whatever his difficulties or his embarrassments might be, his temper was too elastic, and his spirits too buoyant, to be cast down by adversity long together. One day he was agreeably surprised in walking down the Rue de la Paix, to find his arm suddenly seized by a strong, but friendly grasp, and looking round, he recognized, with the most unfeigned joy, the well known old Christchurch face of Richard Bazancourt. Our hero was on his way back from Fontainebleau, where he had arranged every thing satisfactorily for the reception of Jeannette Isabelle, and his purpose was to leave Paris again for Calais early the following morning. Many and long were the greetings between these old college friends, who, although they had never been remarkably or exclusively intimate during their university career, now found a thousand topics of conversation, which only themselves could understand or enjoy in common. "Do you remember the night of the town and gown row," asked Tracy, "and the fight which little Crackjaw, of Corpus, had with Simon barge-owner (Barjona), as he facetiously called the big boatman?" He "Or the way in which five-and-thirty of us were obliged to retreat into the Roebuck," continued Bazancourt, "by the untimely arrival of the proctor. He drove us all into the front room on the ground floor, I remember, and turned the key in the door whilst he went to call for a pen and ink. thought us no doubt all very secure; but, in the meantime, young Crackjaw flung up the sash-window, and one after the other we all jumped out into the street, so that when the proctor unlocked the door to take down our names, we were all fighting again outside, and not a soul to be found in the room." "How well I remember it!" said Bob Tracy, "and don't you recollect, Bazancourt, Tom Harris getting over the back wall at Christchurch one night, because he was afraid to knock in after twelve, and his sliding down the long blue spout into one of the canon's rain-water tubs, where we heard him splashing about up to his neck in water, and endeavouring in vain to scramble up its slippery sides?" Perfectly," replied Bazancourt, “and I have not forgotten either the trick you played upon the unfortunate wine-merchant, who sold you the bad black-strap at sixty shillings a dozen. I went to meet him in your rooms at luncheon, and perfectly remember the gravity with which you told him that you had been taken in, you were afraid, by a London dealer; and the air with which you poured him out a glass of his own wine, assuring him it came from London, and desiring him to taste it, and give his opinion-and the importance and self-satisfaction with which he smacked his lips and made a wry face, and pronounced it to be no better than Warren's blacking, and not worth thirty shillings a dozen— and the roar of laughter with which his impartial opinion was greeted, by a party assembled on purpose to witness his self-condemnation." "Ah! my dear fellow," said Tracy, with more than half a sigh, "those were the days of the sunshine of the heart; but they are gone— 'Optima quæque dies miseris mortalibus ævi How I should laugh if I could only now see our revered and reverend tutor, little Circumflex, come hopping round the corner with the air of affected dignity, and assumed importance, with which he used to walk every day into hall.” Scarcely had Tracy made the observation, when the two young men were startled by hearing behind them the following sounds, issuing from the door of a bookseller's shop which they had just past : "Oratores Attici-very good-très bon, Mr.-Monsieur-What do you call yourself-cheap editionLycurgus, Andocides, Dinarchus-combien ? call again to-morrow-Isæus, Lysias, Demosthenesvery good indeed-very good-" and looking round, the two Oxonians recognized their ancient tutor at the entrance of the bibliopole's shop, whereupon Bazancourt wished his companion good bye for the present, and left him to amuse himself alone at the tutor's expense, as he was not anxious to have any nearer meeting with one to whom he had so just and so powerful motives of enmity, as towards Mr. Circumflex. "Hah!" exclaimed the little dignitary, as his late pupil approached and saluted him, "you have graduated, have you not, Mr. Tracy? your bachelor's of arts degree, I mean?" and his conscience having been relieved by this precautionary question being answered in the affirmative, he no longer hesitated to accept the proffered arm of Robert Tracy, which he would have considered himself obliged to decline, had his pupil still remained an undergraduate. The Rev. Mr. Circumflex was, in fact, sadly in want of an interpreter, for though he had officiated as Tracy's tutor in the classical languages of Greek and Latin, he was by no means a match for him in his knowledge of French, and only that very morning he had lamentably committed himself in his hôtel, in a dialogue with the femme-de-chambre ; for wishing to call for some hot water, and having rung the bell, he found himself unable to proceed further in his sentence than "Mademoiselle, voulezvous?" and "voulez-vous, Mademoiselle?" Whilst he was looking out the verb "to bring," and the adjective and substantive "hot water," in the dictionary, Mademoiselle, by no means prepossessed with his appearance, and not at all liking his equi |