these liberal pursuits, I am afraid, has not met with all the
encouragement it deserved, either here, or at C----. Your caputs,
and heads of colleges, care less than any body else about these
questions.--Contented to suck the milky fountains of their Alma
Maters, without inquiring into the venerable gentlewomen's years, they
rather hold such curiosities to be impertinent--unreverend. They have
their good glebe lands _in manu_, and care not much to rake into the
title-deeds. I gather at least so much from other sources, for D. is
not a man to complain.

D. started like an unbroke heifer, when I interrupted him. _A priori_
it was not very probable that we should have met in Oriel. But D.
would have done the same, had I accosted him on the sudden in his own
walks in Clifford's-inn, or in the Temple. In addition to a provoking
short-sightedness (the effect of late studies and watchings at the
midnight oil) D. is the most absent of men. He made a call the other
morning at our friend _M.'s_ in Bedford-square; and, finding nobody at
home, was ushered into the hall, where, asking for pen and ink, with
great exactitude of purpose he enters me his name in the book--which
ordinarily lies about in such places, to record the failures of
the untimely or unfortunate visitor--and takes his leave with many
ceremonies, and professions of regret. Some two or three hours after,
his walking destinies returned him into the same neighbourhood again,
and again the quiet image of the fire-side circle at _M.'s_--Mrs.
_M._ presiding at it like a Queen Lar, with pretty _A.S._ at her
side--striking irresistibly on his fancy, he makes another call
(forgetting that they were "certainly not to return from the country
before that day week") and disappointed a second time, inquires
for pen and paper as before: again the book is brought, and in the
line just above that in which he is about to print his second name