A SECOND CHANGE.

Press, Volume LIII, Issue 9492, 11 August 1896, Page 2

A SECOND CHANGE.

Queer Story from Truth. Spring had sped with hastening foot and summer wa3 ath&nd. The trees were commenoing to bourgeon in the gardens of Trinity and St. John's ; the air was soft and balmy, and Jack Crawford passed under the porch of St. Boniface with hope and purpose in his sturdy heart. Poor Jack! He needed all his hops and resolution to carry htm through the impending straggle. Ho waa the most popular boy in Badfield School—the captain of the cricket eleven, best" forward "in the football, annual " spraad-eagler " of the school sports. Bat, alas !he was not clever. In popular estimation he stood on an exceeding lofty pedestal— out of school, at least. In school, alas ! his normal position was rather less dignified—to wit, the bottom of the Lower Sliell form. The straight hat interested him more than the oblique narration. He, unfortunately, cared less for the victories of Csesar in Gaul than those of his own house on the cricketfiokl. Iα those bewildering carpeting sums he invariably omitted to allow for the fireplace ; and his acquaintance with the architectural Balbua of easy pro3e reputation had ripened into a long and passionate friendship. Originally he had not intended to go to the University. Bat a letter from Charley Lynam (an old Ksdfieldian, who was himself in the Oxford eleven), assuring him that he had but to sustain his last year's batting average to be tried at once for the 'Varsity, made him think it might be worth while to spend a year at Oxford before entering his father's brewery. Dr. Tickler, his headmaster, was very sceptical as to his chances, and assured him he would have to display more industry than heretofore. This, of course, Crawford promised, and, with the coveted " Blue " before his eyes, he certainly waded through his two Greek playe and five books of Virgil with Titanic ardour, and also, it must be added, with the aid of a Bonn's " crib." These repeated mechanical efforts, together with endless pieces of prose and occasional papers on arithmetic and Euclid, were Crawford's sole intellectual equipment. Though it was still the Easter vacation, his friend Lyaara was " up " reading for his Final Schools. There were, besides, several ■ old Badfieldians also " up " in the University I for a similar purpose, and Jack felt that if he could only satisfy old " Dicky " Bl»de3, the i senior tutor of St." Boniface, that he was a fit and proper person to enter the college, his first visit to Oxford would be extremely pleasant. j He was directed by the porter to the college hall, where he found some twenty other men waiting. In a minute or two the senior tutor arrived and handed each a paper; and I for the next three hours nought was heard but the scampering of busy pens or the muffled sigh of him who waa haply " stumped." Now the candidates had two papers in the morning and one in the afternoon, leaving the " Books " (i.e., the two Greek plays and the Latin author) and the remaining paper for the following morning. On going over the results with Lynam in the evening, Crawford made out that with the exception of a shaky " Prose " he had done as well as he could have hoped for. His fate therefore entirely depended upon his proficiency in the set subjects. Now the tiystem pursued at Bfc. Boniface is as follows: — The men are examined in their books viva voce. Two of the Dons sit at tho high tables during the last paper and take the candidates one after the other in alphabetical order—something after the "next please," manner which obtains in a barber's shop. The two examiners in question were " Picky" Bladee himself and one Enyvett, the Junior Fellow of St. Boniface. This young Don had only been elected the previous term, but owing to the unexpected absence of the junior tutor he was entrusted with the task. Crawford came third on the list. He devoutly hoped that he would be taken by Blades, a cheery, kindly old boy who, by reason of having in the misty past rowed once in the St. Boniface " Torpid," kept a tender place in his heart for the not too clever athlete. Knyvett, on the other hand, was the typical smart young " prig'— the man who, in a system of open competition, is pretty sure to win his fellowship and express regret thereat ever after. With grim forebodings Crawford watched his thin lips twitch, as toying with his eyeglass he listened to the luckless boy before him blundering through a difficult passage. His forebodings were realised. Enyvett had " rushed " his man long before his more easy-going colleague had got to the second author. Crawford heard his name called in sharp academic accents, and approached the table with a trembling at the knees and a vacuum below the third button of his waistcoat, which he had not expsrienced since his first match against the M.C.C. He eat down and took the proffered volume, a plain text of a Greek play. Now Jack Crawford's acquaintance with the classics did not resemble Mr. Weller's knowledge of London ; it was neither varied nor peculiar. He had got up most of the difficult passages in the two plays; but, alas! he soon discovered that the mechanical system of going over books with a crib is not quite the same as an actual acquaintance with the language. The particular passage at which he was put on was extremely difficult, and Crawford was a parson who needed time for reflection. He commenced, made a mistake, wae sarcastically interrupted by his examiner; got hot and flurried, lost his head, and made "pio " of the illustrious dramatist he was tackling. Why dwell on the painful scene? The thin-lipped Don, who had never handled an oar or a cricketbat, who spent his undergraduate days in smug, self-complacent solitude, had about as much sympathy with an athlete as would an oyster. He enjoyed the futile struggles of the panting giant before him, and kept up a playful stream of sarcastic comment. Certain passages in the Virgil Crawford succeeded in translating—in a sense, but when he returned to his seat he felt his certain destiny was a "plough." Great was the consternation among the old Badfieldians when, later on, Crawford told the story of his disaster in Lynam'e rooms. "It is a deuced bad business, Jack," said his host, dejectedly. " From what you say and from what I know of that dirty little Sammy Knyvett, you're a cafe 'plough. . There's just a ghost of a chanoe. I told old Dicky Blades all about you, and that you were the best public-school bat of the year, and it meant having another Boniface man in the 'Varsity eleven, and I know, if he could, he'd let you through, especially if by doing so he would annoy Enyvett. You see dear old Dick likes his glass of port and a story, and good fellowship (with a small " f") in the Common Boom, and it riles him to see the little prig sipping his toast and water and sneering at everybody who lacks, what he calls, * cultchaw. . All the same I don't see how he can go behind Knyvett's decision. Luckily, I have to go to him at three with a ' Greats' essay, so I'll mention to him casually that you were flurried a bit, and that you didn't do yourself justice. They won't put up the list of the successful men until midday to-morrow, and perhaps he may See Knyvett about you." This seemed but a slender thread of hope to cling to, and Jack Crawford, though grateful, was none the less plunged into despair. "Hang it all, Jack," cried Lynam, in despair, "don't look so mopy. Come, let's have a jolly evening, any way. There's no Hall to-night, as there are not enough men up. So all you fellows come and have cold supper with mc at eijjbt and keep old Jack's pecker up." Fortunately for Lynam's project, the senioi tutor did casually inquire how his schoolfellow had fared, and the astute Scholar at once replied that Crawford was a slow-brained man, who would probably have done much better had he been examined on paper, and that Mr. Knyvett's manner, though, of course, perfectly fair, was a little disconcerting to a man of dull wit. Blades made no reply; but Lynam had unconsciously touched a sympathetic chord. The good old tutor had reckoned that Knyvett had taken no less than five more men that morning than he himself had. He aleo knew from long experience that he did not give a man any more time than was just and reasonable. Moreover, though busily engaged, he could not fail to overhear the sparkling sallies in which Enyvett indulged during Crawford's " viva." This, he thought, was not giving a man a fair ran for his mosey. Accordingly, when Knyvett came to his rooms about four with the marks of the men, Blades could not help saying: " I see you've marked Crawford very low. I'm sure your marking is quite correct, but I happen to know that he has been lately very industrious, and that he is a dull, slow fellow, who ought to have time to think things over. Besides, be is likely to do the college credit, and I shouldn't like him to go elsewhere. Could you give him another chance? Put him on in his plays again—eh? time . before tenjhie ejj&jps wUI do.'!..

" Oh, certainly, if you wish," said Knyvett, sharply, " I should imagine ho is, as yon say, a very dull young man, though doubtless able to wag an oar with ardour. I'm afraid, however, I didn't take that latter fact into consideration. I can't re-exainine him now, for I am engaged this afternoon ; bat if yoa will communicate with him I will see him in my rooms at ten this evening. lam dining with a lot of people at the Strafford Hoisl; but I'll come away early." Knyvett tamed away abruptly. The dinner-party in question consisted of some American acquaintances whom he had picked up, and to whom he was doing the honours of Oxford, and it certainly was extremely •umoying that he should have to leave them. Had Crawford seen Knyvett compress his thin lips, he would not have set much siore on hia temporary reprieve. This, however, he happily did not see, and when tlie porter brought him a message io his hotel that Mr Knyvett would see him at his rooms at ten that evening for a further viva-voce in his books, ha rushed to Lynam's in a slate of the wildest hope. His friend at once inferred that Blades had simply given Knyvett to understand that Crawford was not to be ploughed,, aud that the second examination was a mere form to keep up appearance. Klated and happy, the two friends put on flannels and had a game of racquets at the Holywell Courts. At eight the party of old Radfieldians sat down to a cold supper : a far more luxurious collation than those unacquainted with the resources of a College kitchen might imagine, especially when the host supplements the College beer and wine with a bowl of iced Moselle cap from a neighbouring pastrycook's. This is, on the faoe of it, an innocuous beverage; compounded, however, by a University confectioner, with plenty of curagoa in it to tiokle the raw palate of the undergraduate, it is a good deal more insidious than the partaker is aware of. Moreover, to fully appreciate its merits, it should be artfully contrasted with other drinks of a simple character. In this particular duty Crawford waa not remiss. Ravenously hungry with his hard day's work, he pitched into the cold.sa!mon, the pigeon-pie, and the beef with hearty -*e3t. The evening was warm; the iced Moselle cup a revelation; there 13 no better beer in Oxford than at St. Boniface. Chats over old times and old friends necessitated tha drinking of their healths ; and, when Great Tom boomed in the distance, aud the scout came to clear away, the bowl waa empty and the decanters running low. Apart, however, from a feeling of elation, and a happy disregard for the future, Crawford experienced no immediate result from his unwontad potations. And so they all sat round the Oriel window passing the bottle iv the gathering darkness. Suddenly, the College clock struck ten. Crawford remembered his appointment with the examiner, got up, and v/itb. a slightly unsteady gait, walked out into tha Quad, having promised Lynam to come back and tell the result of the interview. Then, as certain novelists say, " a strange thing happened." The moment he went out into the night air, he felt the quadrangle whiz round him, and his legs rock violently. f With a ghastly thrill of horror he realised the truth. Be was drunk! Ha had no alternative but to face the situation. So he stood iv the centre of the Quad as it whirled round; waited until Knyvett's staircase came opposite; made a dash for it and eventually got to the door, at which he j knocked and entered. There was a table on which stood several lighted candles, which danced madly before his affrighted gaze, | beside them were the three text-books. On the hearth-rug stood Knyvett; who, in Crawford's eyes, seamed gently swaying to and fro. A voice which sounded strangely | muffled requested him to sit down and open the book at a certain passage. He obeyed. With a violent mental effort Ihe began. Again and again he tried to conI cenirate his faculties. But in vain. The [ face of his examiner seemed blurred and j distant. The room swam round and round I him ; the words of his persecutor ssemed to j his doll hearing.as inconsequent as he was I conscious his own were, and after having unsuccessfully tried to translata several passages, he could stand it no longer, and I crying out, '* Oh, heavens, what a beastly I and degrading thing it is for a man to get drunk," he lurched out of the room, made I hi* wny.-as best he could to his hotel, and I flung himself; on the bed,.and was soon in a drunken slumber. When he awoke, it waa a I bright summer morning. Bells were clanging all round, and by his side, distracted with grief, stood Lynam. He had noticed his friend's uneteady gait on leaving tho room, and that, together with the fact that Crawford had not returned to tell his fate, had filled him with apprehension and remorse. Just as Crawford, now realising th. whole horror of the situation, was telling Lynam his awful experience, the under-porter of St. Boniface knocked at the door, and said that Mr Knyvett requested to see Mr Crawford in half an hour. - - ■' You must go, Jack, at any cost; let him have his say first,, and then implore him to forgive you. Don't bother about the ' plough,' take it. Don't you see if he makes a fuss about it, and the warden gets to hear, he will never put you on the College books. Oh, Jack, it's all my fault. Here, get into your tub and dress as fast as you can." Within the prescribed time Crawford was standing once more in the presence of Samuel Knyvett. Somehow, that gentleman did not appear quite so austere and contemptuous as Crawford might have expected. He looked rather weary. His eyelids drooped, and his hair looked less sleek than usual. *• I have sent for you, Mr. Crawford, as you no doubt supposed, in consequence of what occurred last night." He paused, but Jack, remembering Lynam's advice, held his tongue. Knyvett continued. •• The—-er—fact is, I am myself naturally a very temperate man—practically, indeed, a water-drinker. I had been dining with soma friends at the Strafford hotel; they ate peopla of an hilarious temperament; prone to strong drink. They ordered champagne, and lam unaccustomed to that drink, which I now perceive is apt to affect the brain unconsciously ; and—-er—the fact is I took, as you must have peroeived, more than waa good for mc." " Good Lord! " thought Jack, as he gradually xealised that the figure he had seen swaying, actually was swaying—that the words which sounded so incoherent upon his ear, had been veritably so. " I returned to College to examine you; and was in hopes that I could have sufficiently commanded my faculties for the task, and that you would not have detected my condition. Of course, the fact that I had considerable difficulty in following your translations at all, and that you openly avowed in my presence "your horror at my disgusting condition, were sufficient proofs that I waa not successful. I can only ask you," he continued, after another painful pause, "to remember that I am but a few years older than yourself, and that exposure would materially affect my academic career. Might I ask you, if you have not already done so, not to mention the sad circumstance to any one?" Crawford could not help feeling sorry for the poor wretch. His sneer was gone, and there was a ring of sincerity in his voice which contrasted refreshingly with his usual mincing tones. Pity, however, did not deter Jack from turning this extraordinary turn in events to his own advantage. "As an actual fact,*' said he, " I have not as yet mentioned it to any one, sir. I can assure you, as a member of the College—l repeat, sir, as a member of the Collegeloyalty to St. Boniface, of which we would then be both members, would deter mc. I hope I may regard myself as having satisfied your test? For I am sure, sir, however dru I mean overcome you were, you could not fail to see much better my translations were Last night than in the morning. Is not that so ?"" He looked at Knyrett with a droll smile. The latter could not refrain from also smiling. " Certainly, Mr. Crawford, you can regard youreelf as having passed the St. Boniface matriculation. At least, I will tell Mr. j Blades that, so far as I could judge, yoar j translations were in every respect admirable." [ " Well, Crawford," said the Head-master ' of Radfield, a few hoars later, when Crawford went to report his success, "it certainly does I yoa the greatest credit. I never thought you had so much in yon." I " Hum! '* muttered Jack, M he went out, "if yoa only knew how much I did hare in mc last night, yoa might possibly change your opinion."