arms emblazoned on a fire-screen, and taking it home with him as a
gift. "Or else," he said, "order one with the garden-view of
Brazenface, and then they'll have more satisfaction in looking at
that than at one of those offensive cockatoos, in an arabesque
landscape, under a bronze sky, which usually sprawls over every thing
that is ~papier mache~. But you won't see that sort of thing here; so
you can't well go wrong, whatever you buy." Finally, Mr. Verdant
Green (N.B. Mr. Green, senior, would have eventually to pay the bill)
ordered a fire-screen to be prepared with the family-arms, as a
present for his father; a ditto, with the view of his college, for
his mother; a writing-case, with the High Street view, for his aunt;
a netting-box, card-case, and a model of the Martyrs' Memorial, for
his three sisters; and having thus bountifully remembered his
family-circle, he treated himself with a modest paper-knife, and was
treated in return by Mr. Spiers with a perfect ~bijou~ of art, in the
shape of "a memorial for visitors to Oxford," in which the chief
glories of that city were set forth in gold and colours, in the most
attractive form, and which our hero immediately posted off to the
Manor Green.

"And now, Verdant," said Mr. Larkyns, "you may just as well get a
hack, and come for a ride with me. You've kept up your riding, of
course."

"Oh, yes - a little!" faltered our hero.

Now, the reader may perhaps remember, that in an early part of our
veracious chronicle we hinted that Mr. Verdant Green's equestrian
performances were but of a humble character. They were, in fact,
limited to an occasional ride with his sisters when they required a