The singer little knows midst yonder myrtles He sees not her who parts the leaves asunder, Who tries to catch the words, but vainly tries. "I fain would know the purport of his singing: "Thou my boldness ne'er can'st blame, open-faced fellow, and was a great favourite with every man in the place. He had been sent up to Cambridge, not for the purpose of burning the midnight oil, and toiling wearily at the dead languages, not for the hope of gaining a high place in the tripos, or competing for a fellowship, but that he might acquire the last finishing touch to his education, and reap the full benefit of those advantages which a life at the university so fully and eminently develops. He was a boating man, and was decidedly a most favourble specimen of that set. He was beyond doubt the most powerful and effective oarsman in the college; had twice rowed successfully against Oxford, and had for more than a year been captain of his club. Moreover, he was peculiarly exempt from the great failing, indeed the besetting sin of all rowing men, both great and small, viz., that of talking "boating-shop" in hall; and this particular good point in his character never failed to carry its due weight. It was a brilliant May morning, the last day of the May races, and Shirley's last May term. Several of his friends had come up for the express purpose of witnessing the races, of applauding his prowess, and of hailing the triumph of his boat. Among the ladies there was one who stood to him in the convenient relationship of cousin, whom we certainly expected soon to see bound to him by a closer tie. Shirley, then, was doubly anxious to do well on the river, and he had spared no pains, and grudged no trouble in training his crew, and getting them in good order and condition. For the first four races all went merrily with the St. Valence; from sixth they had risen to second, and on the last day they were to make their grand effort for the supremacy of the Cam. I had been in London the previous evening, and had just come back when I met Shirley; and then I was destined to learn to my utter astonishment that St. Valence, instead of making its bump, and so gaining the proud position of head of the river, had been compelled to succumb to its pursuer. However, as Harry Shirley laconically answered my question, I said eagerly, 66 How has this happened? How on earth did the Trinity men manage to keep away from you?" "Keep away? Wilford! we were bumped, bumped by those confounded S- men. I feel so savage. I can scarcely speak civilly to any one." "But how did you manage to come to such utter grief?" "I will tell you. You know Manton has been rowing stroke up to to-day. This morning at breakfast-time I got a note from him to say that he should not be able to row this afternoon. I could scarcely believe my senses. You can easily imagine my dismay. I went up to his rooms directly, and expostulated with him. I begged of him to reconsider his decision for what on earth could be done? But it was all to no purpose. I could not alter his intention; of course he said he was very sorry, but he declared it was impossible that he should row. I tried my utmost to induce him, but he was inflexible. We had to go down the river with Whitehurst as stroke, and with a new man in the boat. I anticipated disaster, but I showed a bold front, and did my best to encourage and assure the crew. I determined to make a desperate effort at the start, and endeavour to cut down the Trinity men in the first reach. It was just within the range of possibility that we might succeed, but the chances were great against us. We could not catch them; and, though we lasted for more than a mile, we were caught in sight of the winning-post." I cordially sympathised with Harry Shirley's indignation against Manton. And on that day every boating-man was allowed to indulge in any amount of " shop" in hall. The St. Valence crew, though bumped, had nevertheless rowed most pluckily. At the start they had gone off at such a tremendous pace, and every man had so thoroughly thrown himself into his work, that it seemed as if victory were about to crown their efforts. But the change of stroke, and the want of practice on the part of the new man, soon told heavily against them, and after a most glorious exhibition of pluck, and an exertion of almost superhuman strength on the part of Shirley and his crew, the hopes of St. Valence were crushed, as they saw the third boat inch by inch overhauling them, and heard the cry of bump raised when they were within fifty yards of the end of the course. Fortunately Manton was absent at Hall-time, or he would have experienced sundry feelings of annoyance, as the unpleasant word was passed along that he had been the cause of the misfortune, for it would have been next to an impossibility to repress the opinions of the men. Every one censured his conduct as most unjustifiable, and he became there and then a most unpopular man. The night was appointed for the boating supper, and there again Manton failed to put in his appearance. The remarks upon his conduct, which had before been somewhat free in the supper-room, became violent and angry. He was stigmatised as a selfish dishonourable fellow, who had, for some hidden purpose of his own, deserted his post. Harry Shirley was quite the hero of the evening, for, though be had failed to achieve victory, every one was eager to do justice to the energy and ability which he had displayed in the management of his crew, and to his zeal and activity in behalf of the club. When therefore his health was proposed, the cheering was enthusiastic and the shouting terrific. "Three cheers for Shirley!" were given over and over again with such uproarious merriment as was seldom before heard within the walls of the old college. One or two voices raised the cry of "Manton!" and the groan of execration that followed was loud and significant. There was mischief lurking in the sound. But suddenly a cry of "Shirley, Shirley! arose; all eyes were quickly directed to one part of the table, and in an instant every voice was hushed, for Harry had risen to reply to the toast. "Gentlemen," he said, "I am much obliged to you for the enthusiastic manner in which you have drunk my health. It is almost needless for me to express my deep regret at the issue of this day's race. I had hoped that we might have been head of the river; but fortune has been against us; we have done our best; we have all strained our utmost endeavours to bring our series of victories to a glorious end. It has been no fault of ours that we have failed. I have striven to the best of my power to fulfil the trust placed in me by the members of the St. Valence Rowing Club, and I trust that I have satisfactorily discharged my duty (loud cheers). I trust that next year you may be more fortunate, and no one will experience more pleasure in hearing of your success than myself (hear, hear). Gentlemen, I have to tender my best thanks to every member of the club for the support that has always been given to us. I am convinced that the success of the boat has been a subject of interest to all ("Manton!"); and I shall not be saying too much when I predict a more triumphant May term for you next year. My only regret will be that I shall not be with you to share in your good fortune. Gentlemen, I propose that we drink success to the St. Valence Rowing Club." As Harry Shirley resumed his seat, the applause on all sides was loud and prolonged; and the toast given by him was drunk with full musical honours. And then for a time desultory uproar ensued: the St. Valence men inveighing in the most indignant tones against Manton's defection, and the out-college men expressing their astonishment at the unexplained conduct of the delinquent. What could have induced him to adopt so sudden and so extraordinary a determination? What could have influenced a man who had always been passionately fond of rowing, so far as to make him ruin the chance of his boat getting head of the river? It certainly seemed an in explicable mystery, and all concurred in the opinion that his line of conduct was highly reprehensible. As the evening wore on the uproar became greater; and when twelve, o'clock had struck, and the out-college men had all gone, there was an ominous muttering of Manton's name. The wine was getting into the heads of the undergraduates, and was prompting them to all sorts of mischief. Wilton, an enthusiast in the cause of rowing, who was to succeed Shirley in the captaincy, rose and gave vent to his feelings on the college grievance. 66 Gentlemen," he said, we are all St. Valence men here (hear, hear). Mr. Shirley in his excellent speech dealt somewhat too tenderly with a certain member of the club (groans), who has been the cause of our coming to grief. Now-I wish to say ("Yes! three groans for Manton!") that I consider his conduct contemptible ("Gently," from Shirley). I consider that he had no right to treat us so shabbily (groans and hisses). We ought to have an explanation ("Yes! yes!"). I beg to move a vote of censure on Manton. My course is irregular: this is certainly only a supper meeting, but I should like a unanimous expression of disapproval of his behaviour." The storm of groans and hisses for the unfortunate Manton that followed this speech, for some minutes drowned every other sound. And Shirley strove in vain to pacify his companions, or to modify their rage. They listened presently to what he said, but were by no means mollified towards the object of their hostile demonstration. "You are too generous, Shirley," said Wilton, who had decidedly had far more wine than was good for him; "you know you would have been the last man to do such a thing." "But Manton may have had reasons.' "Then why did he not give them ?" "The fellow should be paid out," said Blackford, one of the wildest and fastest men in the college; a man who was always in hot water with the dons; a daring, impetuous character, and of great experience in all manner of midnight frolics. His remark immediately provoked a sympathising shout from those around him; and Shirley, who was the coolest man of the lot, and who had more influence than any one else, at once saw that, if the meeting did not break up soon, there would be some summary method adopted of conveying to Manton the indignant remonstrances of his fellow undergraduates. Now Harry was no more averse to a bit of fun than any one, but in the present temper of the men, and after the vindictive way in which Blackford had once or twice in the course of the evening spoken of the matter, he feared that if any scheme of practical joking were projected, it might be carried too far, and that mischief might ensue. "Don't trouble yourselves about the man," he said, trying to make the thing appear unworthy of thought. But Wilton immediately answered: 66 Come, Shirley, that's too bad; you know you were as savage as any one this afternoon. Let us finish the evening well: I second Blackford's proposal to give Manton a bit of our minds, in a quiet way." "Screw him in," said one. "Break his windows," said a thick voice. "No, no!" said Shirley. "Not that." He saw they were resolved upon doing something, and as he could not prevent their car-. rying out their plan of punishing their late stroke, he strove to change the direction and modify the action of their schemes. "If you must have a joke, let it be a harmless one. Remember the last boating-supper and the broken windows." "Confound the windows!" said Blackford. "Screw the beggar in, and we'll take care he shall not get out in a hurry to-morrow.” "Is old Fernley in bed?" asked one. "Yes, his lights have been out for some time." "Let us get to work then," said several voices. "Mind he does not serve you as Blackford did," said Shirley, "and throw his coals down on your heads." 66 We'll take care of that." We quitted the supper-room, and descended quietly into the court. The moon was shining brilliantly, and the old ivy-covered buildings looked still and peaceful beneath its rays. There was an old legend attaching to the tower-staircase, up which Manton slept. And as I stood in the angle of the court, gazing upon the gloomy side containing his windows, which were lighted up by the moonbeams, I thought of the hard-working undergraduate who was said to have hanged himself from one of those very windows, in bitter despair at his failure in the tripos on the previous day. As I stood thus musing, and only half listening to the conversation of my companions, an idea suddenly struck me, and, hardly thinking what I was saying, I called out to Blackford,— "Hang him in effigy!" "Bravo!" said he, instantly catching up my words. "Hang him in effigy! A capital idea! By Jove, it will look quite ghastly in the moonlight, and when the bed-makers come in the morning, they will think it is the ghost of the Tower-staircase." I felt immediately sorry for what I had said. It was uttered on the spur of the moment, and before I had reflected on what I was about. But there was no drawing back now; everybody eagerly seized the idea, and Blackford determined that it should be carried into execution. Harry Shirley cast a reproachful glance at me. 'You should not have suggested that," he said. "I am sorry for it, Shirley. Upon my word I don't know what made me do so, but I spoke almost thoughtlessly; I don't quite like it." "I shall stop to see that no injury is done to Manton; I could not trust them in their present mood; they are all rather flushed, and there is no knowing what they will do with Blackford to lead them." Suppressing as far as possible all noise, we mounted the staircase to Manton's rooms. Our task was rendered somewhat more easy from the fact that the door was not "sported," so that we entered without risk of waking him. "Let us see if the fellow is in bed," said Blackford. And he was about to open the bedroom door, when Shirley darted forward, and, just peeping in, instantly closed the door again, and so prevented any one from going in. He at once put the first screw in, and then Blackford and Wilton drove each another, and so the door was made fast. It was utterly impossible that he should interrupt us in our further task. We then set about the more important part of the work of this night of revelry and riot. Manton was safely screwed into his bedroom, after several weak and unavailing remonstrances on his part; and was thereby effectually prevented from interfering with our plans. Blackford now enthusiastically took up the suggestion which, in a moment of thoughtless impulse, I had made. He determined that the idea should be carried into execution, and becoming more excited, by the part of the joke which had already been played, persistently urged us to complete our purpose. But the men apparently required little of this exhortation, for they were as eager as he, to hang our renegade stroke in effigy, and they all immediately called upon me to further the design which I had suggested. "" Come! said Blackford, addressing himself somewhat roughly to me, "now, let us carry out your part of the programme. Hang the fellow in effigy! By Jove! it will be grand fun. It will look like the ghost of the Haunted Tower." I did not like the way in which he spoke. There was something repugnant to my feel ings in mention of the fate of poor H——, and I thought that we had done enough. In fact I heartily repented of my suggestion. The eye of Harry Shirley was continually and reproachfully fixed upon me; but he did not anticipate that any positive harm could come from our joke, and therefore, to a certain extent, he gave his assent to it. Table-cloths, sheets, dusters, paper, in fact everything upon which we could lay our hands were seized, and carefully thrust into Manton's flannel trousers; a bolster was then taken from the sofa, and being swelled to a convenient size by the application of a sufficient number of sheets and table-cloths, was invested in his boatingjersey; a pair of socks, properly stuffed, with his rowing shoes on them, were fastened where the feet should be; and then the top of the bolster, being drawn tight by means of a piece of cord, was surmounted by a rowingcap; and in a few moments a perfect effigy of the stroke of the St. Valence boat was swinging from the window in the Haunted Tower; and then, when we were all leaving the room to screw up the outer door, Manton, in a somewhat louder tone of voice, said,"Blackford! Blackford! do open the door!" But it was worse than useless to appeal to men in such a frame of mind; and we descended the staircase somewhat more quickly than we had gone up, and then slowly and gradually dispersed to our several rooms, utterly regardless of Manton's objections to being screwed in. "I got but little sleep that night. Why I felt that vague and restless uneasiness, I cannot exactly say, but certain it is that for more than an hour I lay awake thinking on the night's work, and the part which I had played in it. However, weariness at length got the better of the indefinite anxiety that oppressed me, and sleep came to my rescue when I was almost despairing of rest; and, though I slept but a short time, I awoke in the morning considerably refreshed by the brief interval of repose that I had enjoyed. The recollection of the joke of the previous night immediately returned to me, and I was eager to know how far the bed-makers had been affected by the sight that must have met them on entering the college gates. However, my suspense on that score was but short-lived, for Mrs. Brown rushed breathless into my keeping-room, and commenced a vigorous attack on my bedroom door. "Sir! sir!" she called out in excited tones. I feigned drowsiness, and answered in a voice that seemed to rebuke her for waking me. "Yes! what is the matter, Mrs. Brown ?" "Oh, sir! what did you gentlemen do last night? Oh dear! oh dear! |