WHY HE CHANGED HIS ROOMS.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 12, Issue 925, 14 March 1868, Page 3

WHY HE CHANGED HIS ROOMS.

* [From "London Society" for December.] / i I was a Trinity man in my second year^; that delicious time when we rest "on. pur oars and drift lazily down the merry current of college life ; the little go just,t>veiv : the degree sufficiently distant, arid all one's thoughts intent upon enjoying the' May term. The May term, that Elysium of university days, that time to which overworked curates and underworked barristers, the Competition Wallah in his reeking cutcherry, and the young mem-' ber in his scarcely more odoriferous comm-ittee-room, alike look back as the " jolliest time in a fellow's life." The ten r o'clock breakfasts (oh ! those ceufs a I' An/rare!), the pale ale and rosy faces, the skies unclouded, the streets clouded with muslin, the— in fact the whole thing, for I must hasten on to my story, comes once and lives for ever. I had rooms in the old court, on the ground-floor; I liked the ground- floor because, as I used to say, you just walk in, by Jove ! and there you are. Large low rooms with a passage leading to them, and abutting upon both the other sets on the story. One of these was a capital appartement, as they say in the Quartier Latin, and a capital fellow " kept" in them, little Tom Speers, the bow of our first boat, who sang the best song, gave the best supper, and had the best temper of any man in the year. The other was a singularly small and inconvenient set of rooms, with no good feature, not even snugness, about them ; and their new tenant, Home, did not seem inclined to add to the beauty or comfort of their appearance. One table and two or three things on which a bold man might attempt to sit, made up the total of his furniture, and the sole ornaments were a shelf of dirty books and a huge bassoon. In fact, Tom Speers, after his first peep into our hero's chamber, rushed into my room and, sinking on the nearest chair, recited faintly but with much feeling — Through Old Court and New Court, wherever one roams, Be it ever so seedy, there's no place like Home's. And poor Home himself! well, he is doing good I believe now among the abori; gines of some Yorkshire colliery district ; but to see him then ! Why, the most ruffianly navvy would not have dreamt of " 'caving 'arf a brick" at him: the smallest fragment of one would have floored him. As nan-row as he was long, his face perfectly expressionless, his clothes as ill-cut as his features, his voice weak and his intellect apparently weaker, he lived but for one thing, and that was — his bassoon. Shall I ever forget how, the first evening that brought him to Trinity* our mutual friend the bed-maker rushed wildly into my rooms, where Speers and I were intently brewing a bowl of " bishop," and adjured us to hasten to the aid of " poor Mr. 'Ome, which I 'aye just a bin and opened his door, sir, and there was he, sir, fallen on the floor with a piece of brass stuck right through his throat, sir, which his groans, gentlemen, would break your 'carts." And sure enough, when, our chatter hushed, through the wall next his room did come a wild, unearthly sound as of a human being in agony inarticulate. We went, we saw (in fact we saw it all only too plain,) we resolved to conquer. That night our plan was laid ; over that memorable brew of bishop the plot was concocted, and here it is. Our first step next morning was to ascertain the exact position of the bed's head of our unlucky neighbour, which proved to be a spot in the wallof an inner sitting-room which I seldom used and had barely furnished. Next we procured a small iron target, which was carefully screwed into the wall at the spot ascertained ; and then with a saloon-pistol of Tom's the scheme was complete. That evening, from seven o'clock to ten, with scarcely any intermission, the drone of the bassoon made night hideous ; and if I had any compunction about the meditated plot before, it vanished under the influence of those weird strains. As St. Mary's matchless chimes tolled out the hour of twelve, Speers, who had undertaken this part of the affair, retired into the inner room .and carefully locked the door behind him. In a minute I heard tho ring of the little bullet on the target, and wondered how it sounded to a man whose head was only an inch from the place hit. An interval of a moment or so, then crack ! again, and so on for ten or fifteen minutes. Suddenly a door burst open, a hurried step scuffled -towards my room, and a frantic knock rattled on my panels. " Come in, old boy !" I shouted ; "how are your knuckles? Halloa! I beg pardon," as the white face and trembling figure of Home appeared in the doorway. Was he frightened or enraged ? " Beg pardon, I was expecting Speers. Glad you've dropped in, though," I added, replacing my weed between my lips ; " make yourself at home, pray. Ive been listening to your — bagpipe is it? — all the evening ; quite missed it when you stopped. Have a weed ? No ? some bishop, then ? Wait a moment ; I'll get you a glass." As I rose, my friend, who still stood staring with a mystified expression on his face, seemed to recover speech. " I — I — really, sir, you must excuse me ; but supposing that my bedroom and yours lay somewhere near together, I came to inquire the — cr — meaning of the extraordinary sounds that disturb my rest, and that proceeded from — cr — this direction." Instantly I assumed a serious expression (I need hardly say that Tom's pistol was quiet as soon as he heard Home's entry), and looking hard at. him, I asked, mysteriously, " What, you have heard it, have 3 r ou? and already? It's a confounded shame of old Leveson putting any one into that room ; always the same ; the trouble and expense of fitting it vp — and I'm told that you made it most uncommon snug — the settling in and all that, and then after a night or two off* you go. Too bad, by Jove ! I'm sorry for you, deuced sorry." "I3ntwhat — what, sir, is the meaning of—of all this? I — you puzzle me; I don't follow you ; with the exception of that horrid noise of which I came to complain, and which I must really request you to " " My dear sir," I replied, calmly, "sit down a moment, and I will explain it all to you; but first let me stipulate that should my disclosures determine you to leave the rooms, as alas ! so many have been compelled to do before you, you will not mention them to your tutor, who might consider me officious for volunteering the statement." Eagerly promising implicit secrecy, poor Home bent forward to catch the low tone in which I proceeded. " Some fifty years ago yo\ir rooms and mine were tenanted by two men who were unfortunate enough to be in love with the same lad}'. Jealousy, hatred, murder, were the result. They fought a duel in the Old Court here one morning before chapel, and your predecessor shot mine through the lungs. He was brought up to his rooms to die, and his last act, as ho lay on the other side of yonder door, which has never been unlocked since Ms body was carried but of it, was to call for a loaded pistol and discharge it at the wall that adjoins ''your bedroom, the wall that Earted him from the man who had taken is life. Through his. clenched teeth he muttered " Again, again, for evek ! "and

if tKra^ank "back and died, just as the clocks * dldmedmidniglit. But through, that night ; ■■-; the watchers ; swore that the pistol-shots ■continued, and. so they have ever since: ytif heard them to-night." 1 paused, for I 4;saW jHat my work was done : the plot had Itoswered; . ; .. ,v ii" How dare the tutor send me to such a ' Pl#^'^ e , exclaimed, warming into a -*;r-'ve){enience''tliat'. strangely on him., ; - "I*ll see him the first thing in the morn- \' ing ; and ph. !, 'tis. shameful, shameful, sir. !;, I thank you for your candour ; I shall be very^sdrry to lose so good a neighbour"— : X bowed— " but if I sleep another iiight in Trinity may I be——' ' , ; " ifaunted ?" said I, "is that it P but don't act rashly, you know ; you could easily get other rooms. Leveson " •-,.-? Don't mention him, sir," he retorted ; '11. regret that I am not at liberty to make public wKat you have told me; but I have a cousin at St. Catherine's ; he wished me to go there ;. I wish I. had ; I will to-mor-row-. An excellent man, sir, and such a cornet-player !" ... . x-?: My dear fellow," I replied, with enthusiasnij 'f if I have a pleasure in life it's music. I shall miss your bagpipe—bassoon is it p— - oh ! more than I can say ; but my sorrow 'will be lessened if you will allow me to hope for an invitation some day to music, muffs, and muffins at your futwe rooms." :^ Sir," said Home, as he grasped my hand, "you do me proud. Grood-night, sir." ; , "Good-night/'saidl. "Remember,not a word of this to Leyeson or your cousin." I will not dwell upon the mutual gratulations which Speers and I exchanged as soon as. the door had closed upon our friend. I only ■. know that the "bishop" seemed, positively beatified, and my humble Lopez as fragrant as Hudson's Prince of Wales. We took it in turn to keep up a little more firing, a few, stray shots, till the summer daybreak ; and when we met next morning at breakfast, about twelve, were of course astonished by our bedmaker's news, -tHat " Mr. 'Ome 'ad bin an packed up heverythink last night which small his baggage was, and looking as if he had seen ghostesses " — (" the feminine variety, I presume," observed Tom, " and a deuced sight worse to see than the ghosts, no doubt")— -"• butdndeed she did hear say that the gentleman had come to the wrong college by mistake." . ; " Ah,'-' said I, carelessly,* " he said last night he thought of going to ' Catt's.' " * "Not to the dogs, at any rate, let us hope," said Tom. - And let us also hope, I may add now that my tale is done, that if Home ever 3 r^ads it he -will forgive the plot that made him change his rooms. H,F.W.