ackmantle to our _grandmamma_, and the
pretty _Nuns_ of St. Clement's." "Soho, my good fellows," said Transit;
"we had better defer our visit in that direction until the night is
more advanced. The old don{30} of----, remember, celebrates the Paphian
mysteries in that quarter occasionally, and we may not always be able to
_shirk_ him as effectually as on the other evening, when Echo and myself
were snugly enjoying a _tete-a-tete_ with Maria B----and little Agnes
S----{31}; we accidentally caught a glimpse of _old Morality_ cautiously
toddling after the pious Mrs. A--ms, _vide-licet_ of arts,{32} a lady
who has been regularly matriculated at this university, and taken up her
degrees some years since. It was too rich a bit to lose, and although
at the risk of discovery, I booked it immediately _eo instunti. 'Exegi
monumentum aere perennius_'--and here it is."

30 We all must reverence dons; and I'm about
To talk of dons--irreverently I doubt.
For many a priest, when sombre evening gray
Mantles the sky, o'er maudlin bridge will stray--
Forget his oaths, his office, and his fame,
And mix in company I will not name.

_Aphrodisiacal Licenses_.
31 Paphian divinities in high repute at Oxford.

32 Pretty much in the same sense, probably, in which Moore's
gifted leman Fanny is by him designated Mistress of Arts.

And oh!--if a fellow like me
May confer a diploma of hearts,
With my lip thus I seal your degree,
My divine little Mistress of Arts.

For an account of Fan's proficiency in astronomy, ethics,
(not the Nicomachean), and eloquence, see Moore's Epistles,
vol. ii. p. 155.

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[Illustration: pge243]

"An excellent likeness, i'faith, is it," said Eglantine; whose eyes
twinkled like stars amid the wind-driven clouds, and whose half clipped
words and unsteady motion sufficiently evinced that he had paid due
attention to the old laws of potation. "There's nothing like the _cloth_
for comfort, old fellows; remember what a man of Christ Church wrote to
George Colman when he was studying for the law.

'Turn parson, Colman, that's the way to thrive;
Your parsons are the happiest men alive.
Judges, there are but twelve; and never more,
But stalls untold, and Bishops twenty-four.
Of pride and claret, sloth and venison full,
Yon prelate mark, right reverend and dull!

~244