s if they
liked, he should stop in and read; for Dr Bewley, DD, Principal of the
world-famed establishment--a grey, handsome, elderly gentleman in the
truest sense of the word--had smilingly said after grace at breakfast
that when he was a boy he used to take a great deal of interest in
natural history, and that he presumed his pupils would feel much the
same as he did, and would have no objection to setting aside their
classical and mathematical studies for the morning and watching the
entrance of the procession when it entered the town at twelve o'clock.

The boys, who were all standing and waiting for the Doctor to leave the
dining-hall, gave a hearty cheer at this; and as the ragged volley died
out, after being unduly prolonged by the younger pupils, instead of
crossing to the door from the table, the Doctor continued, turning to
the mathematical master:

"I think, Mr Morris, you might be kind enough to tell Wrench to get the
boy to help him and place a line of forms by the wall, so that the young
gentlemen can enjoy the privilege of having a prolonged private box
above the crowd; or, shall I say, a high bank in this modern form of the
classic amphitheatre?"

"Hear, hear!" said Mr Rampson, the heavy, solid-looking classical
master, impressed by the Principal's allusion to the Roman sports; and
he grumbled out something in a subdued voice, with his eyes shut. What
it was the boys did not hear, but it was evidently a Latin quotation,
and ended in _ibus_.

The Doctor then marched slowly towards the door, with his black gown
floating out around him, and carrying his mortar-board cap by the limp
corner; for while everything about him was spick and span--his cravat of
the stiffest and whitest as it supported his plump, pink, well-shaven
chin, and his gown of the glossiest black--a habit of holding his
college cap by its right-hand corner had resulted in the formation of a
kind of hinge which made the University headpiece float up and down in
concert with his stately steps as he turned his head from side to side
and nodded benignantly at first one and then another of his junior
pupils.

The masters followed, looking very severe indeed; and, following the
example set by Mr Morris, they all frowned and shook their heads at the
great waste of time that would follow the passing of the procession.

"So childish of the old man," said Morris to the French master, Monsieur
Brohanne, a particularly plump-looking Gaul. "The