"Never mind, old fellow!" said Charles Larkyns,
consolingly; "these little accidents ~will~ occur, you know, even
with the best regulated riders! There were not ~more~ than a dozen
ladies saw you, though you certainly made very creditable exertions
to ride over one or two of them. Well! if you say you won't go back
to Symonds', and get another hack, I must go on solus; but I shall
see you at the Bump-supper to-night! I got old Blades to ask you to
it. I'm going now in search of an appetite, and I should advise you
to take a turn round the Parks and do the same. ~Au re~ser~voir!~"

So our hero, after he had compensated the livery-stable keeper,
followed his friend's advice, and strolled round the neatly-kept
potato-gardens denominated "the Parks," looking in vain for the deer
that have never been there, and finding them represented only by
nursery-maids and - others.

* * * * * * * *

Mr. Blades, familiarly known as "old Blades" and "Billy," was a
gentleman who was fashioned somewhat after the model of the torso of
Hercules; and, as Stroke of the Brazenface boat, was held in high
estimation, not only by the men of his own college, but also by the
boating men of the University at large. His University existence
seemed to be engaged in one long struggle, the end and aim of which
was to place the Brazenface boat in that envied position known in
aquatic anatomy as "the head of the river;" and in this struggle all
Mr. Blades' energies of mind and body, - though particularly of body, -
were engaged. Not a freshman was allowed to enter Brazenface, but
immediately Mr. Blades' eye was upon him; and if the expansion of the
upper part of his coat and waistcoat denoted that his muscular