I do not know how it is, but I cannot be idle long without getting in
love. I became deeply smitten with a shopkeeper's daughter in the high
street; who in fact was the admiration of many of the students. I wrote
several sonnets in praise of her, and spent half of my pocket-money at
the shop, in buying articles which I did not want, that I might have an
opportunity of speaking to her. Her father, a severe-looking old
gentleman, with bright silver buckles and a crisp, curled wig, kept a
strict guard on her; as the fathers generally do upon their daughters
in Oxford; and well they may. I tried to get into his good graces, and
to be sociable with him; but in vain. I said several good things in his
shop, but he never laughed; he had no relish for wit and humor. He was
one of those dry old gentlemen who keep youngsters at bay. He had
already brought up two or three daughters, and was experienced in the
ways of students.

He was as knowing and wary as a gray old badger that has often been
hunted. To see him on Sunday, so stiff and starched in his demeanor; so
precise in his dress; with his daughter under his arm, and his
ivory-headed cane in his hand, was enough to deter all graceless
youngsters from approaching.

I managed, however, in spite of his vigilance, to have several
Conversations with the daughter, as I cheapened articles in the shop. I
made terrible long bargains, and examined the articles over and over,
before I purchased. In the meantime, I would convey a sonnet or an
acrostic under cover of a piece of cambric, or slipped into a pair of
stockings; I would whisper soft nonsense into her ear as I haggled
about the price; and would squeeze her hand tenderly as I received my
halfpence of change, in a bit of whity-brown paper. Let this serve as a