Why should you slight her so,' I said,
'Compared with Oxford town?'

At this my boy hung down his head,
While sterner grew the parent's eye;
And six-and-thirty times I said,
'Come, Edward, tell me why?'

For I loved Cambridge (where they deal--
How strange!--in butter by the yard);
And so, with every third appeal,
I hit him rather hard.

Twelve times I struck, as may be seen
(For three times twelve is thirty-six),
When in a shop the _Magazine_
His tearful sight did fix.

He saw it plain, it made him smile,
And thus to me he made reply:--
'_At Oxford there's a Crocodile_;[1]
And that's the reason why.'

Oh, Mr. Editor! my heart
For deeper lore would seldom yearn,
Could I believe the hundredth part
Of what from you I learn.

[1] Certain obscure paragraphs relating to a crocodile, kept at the
Museum, had been perplexing the readers of the _Oxford Magazine_ for