Little Dick Gradus, with his
usual cunning, had shirked us at the commencement of hostilities; and
the Honourable Mr. Sparkle had been carried home to his lodging, early
in the fray, more overcome by hard drinking than hard fighting, and
there safely put to bed by the indefatigable Mark Supple, to whose
friendly zeal and more effective arm we were all much indebted. In
this reflective mood, I had watched the retiring shadows of the night
gradually disperse before the gray-eyed morn, and had just caught a
glimpse of the golden streaks which illumine the face of day, when my
o'er-wearied spirit sank to rest.
[Illustration: page269]
A little before seven o'clock I was awoke by Echo, who came into my room
to borrow some clean linen, to enable him to attend chapel prayers
at Christ Church. Judge my surprise when I perceived my one-eyed
~269~~warrior completely restored to his full sight, and not the least
appearance of any participation in the affair of the previous night.
"What? you can't comprehend how I managed my black optic? hey, old
fellow," said Echo; "you shall hear: knocked up Transit, and made him
send for his colours, and paint it over--looks quite natural, don't
it?--defy the big wigs to find it out--and if I can but make all right
by a sop to the old Cerberus at the gate, and _queer_ the _prick bills_
at chapel prayers, I hope to escape the _quick-sands of rustication_,
and pass safely through the _creek of proctorial jeopardy_.
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