Tracks of a Rolling Stone

rative, and to far l

t to Cambridge, I wasplaced, or rather

my knowledge, hewrote to Mr. Ellice lamenting my secret recusancy, and itsmoral dangers. Mr. Ellice came expressly from London, andstayed a night at Ely. He dined with us in the cloisters,and had a long private conversation with my tutor, and,before he left, with me

n turn left the nursery. Mr. Collyer, uponreceipt of my letter, referred the matter to Mr. Ellice; withhis approval I was duly insta

Beachamwell andSandringham. Mr. Motteux - 'Johnny Motteux,' as he wascalled - was, like Tristram Shandy's father, the son of awealthy 'Turkey merchant,' which, until better informed, Ialways took to mean a dealer in poultry. 'Johnny,' likeanother man of some notoriety, whom I well remember in myyounger days - Mr. Creevey - had access to many large housessuch as Holkham; not, like Creevey, for the sake of hisscandalous tongue, but for the sake of his

lattractions, (in figure and dress he was a duplicate of theimmortal Pickwick,) stated that he had made his will and h

gns of embarrassment and distress. My firstexclamation was: 'How jolly! T

clearly, to my disappointments did not care for the shoo

'what's up? Don't you - don'

ssed that s

l him so, and not bother

him you will lo

ere he has alrea

l alter h

, flying out at such

don't care a rap for him

accordance with myadvice; and, it may b

lli

rston's youngest sonwas Mr. Spencer Cowper. Mr. Motteux died a year or two afterthe above event.

as a young gentlem

ache at Paris he was famous for hispatronage of dramatic art - or artistes r

im of his accession to their lateclient's wealth. It being one of Mr. Cowper's maxims neverto read lawyers' letters, (he was in daily receipt

sent Majesty; andSandringham, through the adroit negotiations of LordPalmerston, became the proper

ry's was an odditydeserving of passi

itures of the inward man. His temper was inflammatory,sometimes leading to excesses, which I am sure he rued inmental sackcloth and ashes. But visitors at Holkham (un

yalty, (the Duke of Sussex was of the party,) CharlesFox and Lady Anson, great-grandmother of the present LordLichfield, happened to be playing at chess. When theirascible dom

in the reverend gentleman while he himselfspent the forenoon in the manuscript library, (where not onlythe ancient manuscripts, but the most valuable of the printedbooks, are kept under loc

ures - would snip out and pocket the title-pageof the folio edition of S

We were constantly invited todinner and garden parties in the neighbourhood; nor was thegood rector slow to return the compliment. It must bec

of her suitors but two years older. As faras age was concerned, nothing could be more compatible. Norin the matter of mutual inclination was there any disparitywhatever. What, then, was the pu

' I asked. 'Who

course! Who else do you

erity. 'But did youpropose to her? Di

rately and serio

disordered jabot and touzle

- destroy them! Tothink of it! after all that has passed between us these -these three weeks,

he mother?' I asked i

andI didn't pop [the odious word!] till I was helping her

of OBITER DICTUM - a b

yes. But wasn't sh

always know. Shepretended not to und

en you ex

more. She laughed, and

that wa

have had her spr

will have to face t

ring rapidly fro

it needn't interfere with your work. You can goon with the "Anabasis" till I come back. And remember -NEANISKOS is not a proper

r dominie when he found the mother asmuch bewildered as the daughter was frighten

in tea, which hecheerfully acceded to, all the more readily, that it gave himan opportunity to vent one of his old college jokes. 'Yes,yes,' said he, with a laugh, 'there's nothing like tea. TEVENIENTE DIE, TE DECEDENTE CANEBAM.' Such sallies ofinnocent playfulness often smoothed h

in amonth of the above incident he proposed to another lady uponthe sole grounds that, when playing a game of chess,

ion, I stronglyadvised him to accept so obvious a challenge, and go down onhis knees to her at onc

assed byexcess of amiability, promptly desired him, w

called me into the stable yard tojoin in consultation with his gardener as to the advisabilityof killing a pig. There were two, and it was not easy todecide which was the fitter for the butcher. The

d a litter of ten last time, and the whiteone only six. Ergo, if history repeats

's firstlitter, and the black's second. Why shoul

med in the gardener. 'Thenumber don

here nor there,'

urreverence is right, as no doubt you will be, that'll mak

before they are bor

reverence. But it com

pigs,' retor

reverence

r's,' I suggested, 'is

pocket; and pointing with theother hand to the broad back of the black sow, exclaimed,'T

' I assented, and the fate

birth to a daughter. My tutor jumped outof his chair to hand me the note. '

him allude to thedoctrine of Pythagoras, as he had no leaning to Buddhism,and, as I am sure he kn

an upright andconscientious man. I

ced age, an honorary

until his deathfifty years later, one of my closest and most cherishedfriends. Alexander Napier was the son of Macvey Napier,first editor of the 'Edinburgh Review.' Thus, associatedwith many eminent men of l

r and quick sympathy;an excellent parish priest, - looking upon Christianity as alife and not a dogma

Yet, if taken aback byan outrage, or an act of gross stupidity, which even theperpetrator himself had to suffer for, he would momentarilylose his patience,

ty at Caius. Thefriend suddenly pointed to the clock, reminding Napier theyhad but five minutes to get into college before Trinity gateswere closed. 'D-n the c

to mehimself). They talked of books, they talked of politics,they talked of English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, ofBrougham, Horner, Wilson, Macaulay, Jeffrey, of Carlyle'sd

But all that ends is short - the old friends had spenttheir last evening together. Yes, their last, perhaps. Itwas bed-time, a

ut them,' says his lordshi

know, but I'll answer for it

iest to look backupon. One should hope that however profitably a young manspends his time at the University, it is but the preparationfor something bette

od, ofresponsibility. The novelty, the freshness of everypleasure, the unsatiated appetite for enjoyment, the animalvigour, the ignorance of care, the heedlessness of, orrather, the implicit faith in, the morrow, the absence ofmistrust or suspicion, the frank surrender to generousimpulses, the readiness to accept appearances for realities -to believe in every

ling health - to matchwith this enjoyment of the young, the bright, the bygone,hour? The wisdom of the worldly teacher - at least, theCARPE DIEM - wa

l or mathematical attainments. But I madefriendships - lifelong fri

ville, late Master of Magdalen, Lord Calthorpe, of racingfame, with whom I afterwards crossed the Rocky Mountains, thelast Lord Durham, my cousin, Sir Augustus Stephenson, ex-soli

d year he won theUniversity prize poem with his 'Balder,' and soon afterpublished some other poems, and a novel, which met withmerited oblivion. But it w

this later on, I will merely mention here the names of suchmen as Thackeray, Tennyson, Frederick Locker, Stirling ofKeir, Tom Taylor the dramatist, Millais, Leighton, and othersof lesser note. Cayley was a member of, and regular

examination at Cambridge. Whewell was thenMaster of Trinity. One of the subject

rue. I broke down. Heturned over the page; again I stuck fast. The truth is, Ihad hardly looked at

ition,'Just returned from China, where he served as a midshipman inthe late war.' He then took the book out of Whewell's hands,and giving it to me closed, said good-n