of gold is in our nostrils, turn where we will, and simple living and high thinking are nearly as strange in our seats of learning as in Mayfair. One shudders often to think that the weight has become altogether too heavy, and can never now be lifted from us unless by an explosion; that we have nothing before us but a steady increase of millionaires, and of the vast class which ministers to them, and apes, and exaggerates, their vices and follies. Cultivated people of plain habits and moderate means seem likely to be shouldered out of England altogether, as they are rapidly being shouldered out of the West-end of London. A lounging upper world of spendalls and do-nothings, a lower world of paupers and criminals, with nothing between but a valet world, hastening to imitate at the earliest possible moment those upon whom they are now fawning and preying, is not a pleasant prospect, but, if it is to be avoided, it is time that we set about restoring tone to our higher education.

With the grand story of the last days of young Frederick Vyner fresh in one's mind, it would be treason to England to believe that there is any taint in the manhood of the generation which is growing up to take our places. Such tests as those ten supreme days on the plain under Pentelicus come but once or twice in a century, and, when they do come, try heart and nerve ten times more searchingly than any shock of battle, or forlorn hope. The quiet and gentle courage of that stripling fresh from Christ Church, under the strain of a prolonged agony, the faint outline of which one cannot but suspect is scarcely known beyond his own nearest and dearest, may well redeem the outbreak of rowdyism which has disgraced his college in the last few weeks. He has shown us, even in these valet days, how an English lad can die, and the memory of that death will shine out "like the moon on snow," long after the story of the burning of the busts has passed out of men's minds. The stock, thank God, is as good as ever it was, and all we have to do is to see that it has a fair chance. How this is to be done must be a diffi

cult problem for many a long day, but most certainly one of the most promising steps would be the recognition of agriculture, mechanics, and engineering, as objects of scientific and practical study at our Universities. One of the most pressing needs of our Universities might thus be at least partially met, if we would condescend to take a hint from Cornell. There are other subjects, too, which might be scientifically and practically taught, such as architecture, as to which much might be urged. But there is no need to go into further detail. If the University authorities would only recognize the duty of finding acceptable occupation for their students, there is no difficulty in their way which might not easily be overcome.

And now a few words as to discipline. I suppose no one will dispute that in this respect, at least, there is urgent need of reform at Oxford and Cambridge. The authorities have not merely been driving with loose reins, they have allowed the reins to be cut. Five-andtwenty years ago you could not walk up and down High Street out of academicals without being proctorized (to use the slang term). Now there is no costume, short of that of the garden of Eden, in which an undergraduate may not be seen within the most public University precincts, at any time of the day or night. This is only a sample, probably the most obvious one, of the change which has come over the Universities in the matter of discipline. What is the remedy? Again I say, the Cornell professors have hit upon it. They have been wise enough to leave discipline in the first instance to their students, adopting the method of the greatest educator of our time; and we shall have to do the same if we want to restore discipline. The device of scattering three or four college tutors about on the staircases has broken down. They are for the most part young men, not more than three or four years older than the undergraduates. They dislike the duty of policemen, and are unfit for it even if they liked it. They are generally studious men, who have gained their position in the schools, and not on

the river or on the cricket-ground; and the undergraduates, who will respect them in the lecture-rooms, will resent their interference with a noisy supperparty, or a jumping or wrestling match in the inner quadrangle. When will the head of a house have the sense to follow Arnold's example? Let him put all his tutors on one staircase by themselves, and release them from all duties except those of teaching. Then let him call together all his undergraduates in Hall, and say to them something of this kind: "Gentlemen, I have been thinking over the state of discipline in this college, and find it anything but what I should like to see it. You are very noisy after the gates are closed. Last week you screwed up the doors of a tutor, and two of the more studious of your own number, and so kept them from morning chapel. And I am told that you have even gone so far as to commit depredations on the larder after the servants have left the college, and to amuse yourselves by what you are pleased to call making 'cock shyes' of the college crockery. All this is very scandalous, and, as I scarcely need tell you, quite at variance with the intentions of our founders, who destined this place for an institution devoted to the study of the humanities. We must have a complete change in all this, and I look to you to work it out for yourselves. You are no longer boys, and I intend to treat you as men. Henceforth, when the servants leave college, the buttery hatch, the larder, the library, the kitchen-in short, all the offices of the college-will be left open, and under your care. The tutors

and fellows, who all agree with me, have been withdrawn from your portions of the college buildings. I look to you, gentlemen, to see that the college property is protected, and that order and quiet are preserved within these walls. You must let me have the name of one gentleman on each staircase, to whom I am to look for the maintenance of proper discipline, and who will be accountable to me for the security of the college property. If, after considering this matter among yourselves, you do not see your way to accepting the responsi

bility I now offer you, I must request you to let me know, that I may make other arrangements for the preservation of the discipline of this college." I will venture to say, that from that day not a willow-pattern plate belonging to the college would be broken, and that the reading men would be able to indulge in their strange caprice in the evening hours with unsported oaks.

Whether such an arrangement would speedily take a quasi-military form, as at Ithaca, is doubtful; but, if it did, so much the better. Unless we drill in earnest at school and college we shall never seriously reduce the army estimates. The "plain uniform" worn in Cornell University by all students, with a view to "saving the expenses incident to variety of costumes and changes of fashion," and "placing all upon a common footing of republican equality," will no doubt strike with horror and astonishment our University tailors, and the youth whom they clothe in gorgeous raiment. They will scoff at the notion, and protest that under such conditions you would never get young men of high station or large property to the Universities at all. It never strikes, either tailors or their young clients, that this is precisely the best thing which could happen. Such men ought to be only endurable, at such institutions as Oxford or Cambridge, on the condition that they keep their pedigrees and money-bags clean out of sight. If they are ready to come and learn, side by side, and "on a footing of republican equality," with the sons of tradesmen and mechanics (whom we may hope soon to see coming up from the endowed schools), well and good. Such contact will benefit them exceedingly, whatever effect it may have on the poor students. If they are not content with this, they are only a stumbling-block and a nuisance; and the sooner they get a place for themselves, where they and their toadies can go and take whatever substitute they please for the education they are supposed to get at present in our older Universities, the better it will be for all parties concerned, and above all for this English nation.

CHAPTER VII.

LADY ALTRINGHAM.

THERE was one more meeting between Cousin George and Emily Hotspur, before Sir Harry left London with his wife and daughter. On the Sunday afternoon following the ball he called in Bruton Street, and found Lord Alfred there. He knew that Lord Alfred had been refused, and felt it to be a matter of course that the suit would be pressed again. Nevertheless, he was quite free from animosity to Lord Alfred. He could see at a glance that there was no danger for him on that side. Lord Alfred was talking to Lady Elizabeth when he entered, and Emily was engaged with a bald-headed old gentleman with a little ribbon and a star. The bald-headed old gentleman soon departed, and then Cousin George, in some skilfully indirect way, took an opportunity of letting Emily know that he should not go to Goodwood this July.

"Not go to Goodwood?" said she, pretending to laugh. "It will be most unnatural, will it not? They'll hardly start the horses without you, I should think."

"They'll have to start them without me, at any rate." Of course she understood what he meant, and understood also why he had told her. But if his promise were true, so much good had been done, and she sincerely believed that it was true. In what way could he make love to her better than by refraining from his evil ways for the sake of pleasing her? Other baldheaded old gentlemen and bewigged old ladies came in, and he had not time for another word. He bade her adieu, saying nothing now of his hope of meeting her in the autumn, and was very

affectionate in his farewell to Lady Elizabeth. "I don't suppose I shall see Sir Harry before he starts. Say 'good-bye' for me."

"I will, George."

"I am so sorry you are going. It has been so jolly, coming in here of a Sunday, Lady Elizabeth; and you have been so good to me. I wish Scarrowby

Iwas at the bottom of the sea."

"Sir Harry wouldn't like that at all."

"I daresay not. And as such places must be, I suppose they ought to be looked after. Only why in June? Good-bye! We shall meet again some day." But not a word was said about Humblethwaite in September. He did not choose to mention the prospect of his autumn visit, and she did not dare to do so. Sir Harry had not renewed the offer, and she would not venture to do so in Sir Harry's absence.

June passed away,-as Junes do pass in London,-very gaily in appearance, very quickly in reality, with a huge outlay of money and an enormous amount of disappointment. Young ladies would not accept, and young men would not propose. Papas became cross and stingy, and mammas insinuated that daughters were misbehaving. The daughters fought their own battles, and became tired in the fighting of them, and many a one had declared to herself before July had come to an end that it was all vanity and vexation of spirit.

The Altringhams always went to Goodwood,-husband and wife. Goodwood and Ascot for Lady Altringham were festivals quite as sacred as were Epsom and Newmarket for the Earl. She looked forward to them all the year, learned all she could about the horses which were to run, was very anxious and energetic about her party, and, if all that was said was true, had

her little book. It was an institution also that George Hotspur should be one of the party; and of all the arrangements usually made, it was not the one which her Ladyship could dispense with the easiest. George knew exactly what she liked to have done, and how. The Earl himself would take no trouble, and desired simply to be taken there and back and to find everything that was wanted the very moment it was needed. And in all such matters the Countess chose that the Earl should be indulged. But it was necessary to have some one who would look after something-who would direct the servants, and give the orders, and be responsible. George Hotspur did it all admirably, and on such occasions earned the hospitality which was given to him throughout the year. At Goodwood he was almost indispensable to Lady Altringham; but for this meeting she was willing to dispense with him. "I tell you, Captain Hotspur, that you're not to go," she said to him.

Nonsense, Lady Altringham." "What a child you are! Don't you know what depends on it?"

"It does not depend on that." "It may. Every little helps. Didn't you promise her that you wouldn't?"

"She didn't take it in earnest."

"I tell you, you know nothing about a woman. She will take it very much in earnest if you break your word."

"She'll never know."

"She will. She'll learn it. A girl like that learns everything. Don't go ; and let her know that you have not gone."

George Hotspur thought that he might go, and yet let her know that he had not gone. An accomplished and successful lie was to him a thing beautiful in itself, an event that had come off usefully, a piece of strategy that was evidence of skill, so much gained on the world at the least possible outlay, an investment from which had come profit without capital. Lady Altringham was very hard on him, threatening him at one time with the Earl's displeasure, and absolute refusal of his company. But

he pleaded hard that his book would be ruinous to him if he did not go; that this was a pursuit of such a kind that a man could not give it up all of a moment; that he would take care that his name was omitted from the printed list of Lord Altringham's party; and that he ought to be allowed this last recreation. The Countess at last gave way, and George Hotspur did go to Good wood.

With the success or failure of his book on that occasion our story is not concerned. He was still more flush of cash than usual, having something left of his cousin's generous present. At any rate, he came to no signal ruin at the races, and left London for Castle Corry on the 10th of August without any known diminution to his prospects. At that time the Hotspurs were at Humblethwaite with a party; but it had been already decided that George should not prepare to make his visit till September. He was to write from Castle Corry. All that had been arranged between him and the Countess, and from Castle Corry he did write ::

at Humblethwaite. The invitation had doubtless been given, and Sir Harry did not wish to turn against his own flesh and blood,-to deny admittance to his house to the man who was the heir to his title. Were he to do so, he must give some reason; he must declare some quarrel; he must say boldly that all intercourse between them was to be at an end; and he must inform Cousin George that this strong step was taken because Cousin George was a-blackguard! There was no other way of escape left. And then Cousin George had done nothing since the days of the London intimacies to warrant such treatment; he had at least done nothing to warrant such treatment at the hands of Sir Harry. And yet Sir Harry thoroughly wished that his cousin was at Jerusalem. He still vacillated, but his vacillation did not bring him nearer to his cousin's side of the case. Every little thing that he

saw and heard made him know that his cousin was a man to whom he could not give his daughter, even for the sake of the family, without abandoning his duty to his child. At this moment, while he was considering George's letter, it was quite clear to him that George should not be his son-in-law; and yet the fact that the property and the title might be brought together was not absent from his mind when he gave his final assent. "I don't suppose she cares for him," he said to his wife.

"She's not in love with him, if you mean that."

"What else should I mean?" he said, crossly.

I

"She may learn to be in love with him." "She had better not. She must be told. He may come for a week. won't have him here for longer. Write to him and say that we shall be happy to have him from the second to the ninth. Emily must be told that I disapprove of him, but that I can't avoid opening my house to him."

These were the most severe words he had ever spoken about Cousin George, but then the occasion had become very critical. Lady Elizabeth's reply was as follows:

Sir

"MY DEAR COUSIN GEORGE, Harry and I will be very happy to have you on the second, as you propose, and hope you will stay till the eleventh. "Yours sincerely,

"ELIZABETH HOTSPUR."

He was to come on a Saturday, but she did not like to tell him to go on a Saturday, because of the following day. Where could the poor fellow be on the Sunday She therefore stretched her invitation for two days beyond the period sanctioned by Sir Harry.

"It's not very gracious," said George, as he showed the note to Lady Altringham.

"I don't like it the less on that account. It shows that they're afraid about her, and they wouldn't be afraid without cause.'

"There is not much of that, I fancy."

"They oughtn't to have a chance against you,-not if you play your game well. Even in ordinary cases the fathers and mothers are beaten by the lovers nine times out of ten. It is only when the men are oafs and louts that they are driven off. But with you, with your cousinship, and half-heirship, and all your practice, and the family likeness, and the rest of it, if you'll only take a little trouble

"

"I'll take any amount of trouble."

"No, you won't. You'll deny yourself nothing, and go through no ordeal that is disagreeable to you. I don't suppose your things are a bit better arranged in London than they were in the spring." She looked at him as though waiting for an answer, but he was silent. "It's too late for anything of that kind now, but still you may do very much. Make up your mind to this, that you'll ask Miss Hotspur to be your wife before you leave-what's the name of the place?"

"I have quite made up my mind to that, Lady Altringham."

"As to the manner of doing it, I don't suppose that I can teach you anything."

"I don't know about that."

"At any rate I shan't try. Only re