bow was a performance attended with considerable difficulty. It was
always slipping from his instep, or twisting the wrong way, or
threatening to snap in sunder, or refusing to allow his fingers to
slip the knot, or doing something that was dreadfully uncomfortable,
and productive of perspiration; and two or three times
he was reduced to the abject necessity of asking his friends to
string his bow for him.

But when he had mastered this slight difficulty, he found that the
arrows (to use Mr. Bouncer's phrase) "wobbled," and had a
predilection for going anywhere but into the target, notwithstanding
its size; and unfortunately one went into the body of the Honourable
Mr. Stormer's favourite Skye terrier, though, thanks to its shaggy
coat and the bluntness of the arrow, it did not do a great amount of
mischief; nevertheless, the vials of Mr. Stormer's


[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 105]

wrath were outpoured upon Mr. Verdant Green's head; and
such ~epea pteroenta~ followed the winged arrow, that our hero became
alarmed, and for the time forswore archery practice.

As he had fully equipped himself for archery, so also Mr. Verdant
Green, (on the authority of Mr. Bouncer) got himself up for cricket
regardless of expense; and he made his first appearance in the field
in a straw hat with blue ribbon, and "flannels," and spiked shoes of
perfect propriety. As Mr. Bouncer had told him that, in cricket,
attitude was every thing, Verdant, as soon as he went in
for his innings, took up what he considered to be a very good