ch we knew the
number of houses, and the number of windows in each--behind. Ride
then?--the two hacks kept by mine host of the Mynysnewydd Arms deserve
a history to themselves. Rosinante would have been ashamed to be seen
grazing in the same field with such caricatures of his race. There was a
board upon a house a few doors off, announcing that "pleasure and other
boats" were to be let on hire. All the boats that we were acquainted
with must have been the "other" ones--for they smelled of herrings,
sailed at about the pace of a couple of freshmen in a "two-oar," and
gave very pretty exercise--to those who were fond of it--in baling. As
for reading, we were like the performers at a travelling theatre--always
"going to begin."

Branling, indeed, did once shut himself up in his bedroom, as we
afterwards ascertained, with a box of cigars and a black and tan
terrier, and read for three weeks on end in the peculiar atmosphere thus
created. Willingham of Christ Church, and myself, had what was called
the dining-room in common, and proceeded so far on the third day after
our arrival, as to lay out a very imposing spread of books upon all the
tables; and there it remained in evidence of our good intentions, until
the first time we were called upon to do the honours of an extempore
luncheon. Unfortunately, from the very first, Willingham and myself
were set down by Hanmer as the idle men of the party; this sort of
prophetical discrimination, which tutors at Oxford are very much in the
habit of priding themselves upon, tends, like other prophecies, to work
its own fulfilment. Did a civil Welshman favour us with a call? "Show
him in to Mr Hawthorne and Mr Willingham; I dare say they are not very
busy"--quoth our _Jupiter tonans_ from on high in the dining-room, where
he held his court; and accordingly in he came. We had Stilton and
bottled porter in charge for these occasions from the common stock; but
the honours of all these visits were exclusively our own, as far as
house-room went. In dropped the rest of the party, one by one. Hanmer
himself pitched the Ethics into a corner to make room, as he said, for
substantials, the froth of bottled Guinness damped the eloquence of
Cicero, and Branling having twisted up my analysis of the last-read
chapter into a light for his cigar, there was an end of our morning's
work. How could we read? That was what we always said, and there was
some truth in it.

Mr Branling's reading fit was soon