Hither I arrived, in due time to save a lecture, and
receive an invitation to spend a few weeks in the ensuing year at
Cambridge, where my kind friend Horace Eglantine has entered himself
of Trinity; and by the way of inducement, has transmitted the
characteristic sketch of the notorious Jemmy Gordon playing off one
of his mad pranks upon the big wigs of Peter-House, (see plate) the
particulars of which, will, with more propriety, come into my sketches
at Cambridge.
[Illustration: page369b]
We are here all bustle--Scouts packing up and posting off to the
coach-offices with luggage--securing places for students, and afterwards
clearing places for themselves--Oxford Duns on the sharp look-out for
shy-ones, and pretty girls whimpering at the loss of their lovers--Dons
and Big wigs promising themselves temporal pleasures, and their
ladies reviling the mantua-makers for not having used sufficient
expedition--some taking their last farewell of _alma mater_, and others
sighing to behold the joyous faces of affectionate kindred and
early friends. Long ~370~~bills, and still _longer_ promises passing
currently--and the High-street exhibiting a scene of general confusion,
until the last coach rattles over Magdalen bridge, and Oxford tradesmen
close their _oaks_.
Bernard Blackmantle.
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