the said weed were not altogether "the perfume of
the lip he loved;"--and a resolute taciturnity. What was he? It is a
lamentable fact that an Oxford under-graduate does not invariably look
the gentleman. He vibrates between the fashionable assurance of a London
swindler, and the modest diffidence of an overgrown schoolboy. There is
usually a degree of unfinishedness about him. He seems to be assuming a
character unlike the glorious Burschenschaf of Germany, he has no
character of his own. However, for want of more profitable occupation,
we set to work in earnest to discover who our fellow traveller really
was: and by a series of somewhat American conversational enquiries, we
at last fished out that he was going into ----shire like ourselves--nay,
in answer to a direct question on the subject, that he hopes to meet
Hanmer of Trinity at Glyndewi. But no further information could we get:
our new friend was reserved. Mr Branling and I had commenced intimacy
already. "My name is Branling of Brazenose;" "and mine Hawthorne of
----;" was our concise introduction. But our companion was the pink of
Oxford correctness on this point. He thanked the porter for putting his
luggage up called me "Sir" till he found I was an Oxford man; and had we
travelled for a month together, would rather have requested the coachman
to introduce us, than be guilty of any such barbarism as to introduce
himself. So by degrees our intimacy, instead of warming, waxed cold. As
night drew on, and the fire of cigars from Branling, self, and coachman,
became more deadly, the fur cap was drawn still closer over the ears,
the mackintosh crept up higher, and we lost sight of all but the outline
of the spectacles.

The abominable twitter of the sparrows in the hedgerows gave notice of
the break of day--to travellers the most dismal of all hours, in my
opinion--when I awoke from the comfortable nap into which I had fallen
since the last change of horses. For some time we alternately dozed,
tumbled against each other, begged pardon, and awoke; till at last the
sun broke out gloriously as we drove into the cheerful little town of
B----.

A good breakfast set us all to rights, and made even our friend in the
mackintosh talkative. He came out most in the character of tea-maker:
(an office, by the way, which he filled to the general satisfaction of
his constituents during our stay in North Wales.) We found out that he
was a St Mary Hall man, with a duplicate name: