A knot of boys, sitting on the Long Walk wall, with their feet swinging in
the air, watched the arriving guests of the Provost.

'I say, Townshend,' said one, 'there's Grobbleton; he _was_ a bully. I
wonder if that's his wife? Who's this? The Duke of Agincourt. He wasn't an
Eton fellow? Yes, he was. He was called Poictiers then. Oh! ah! his name
is in the upper school, very large, under Charles Fox. I say, Townshend,
did you see Saville's turban? What was it made of? He says his mother
brought it from Grand Cairo. Didn't he just look like the Saracen's Head?
Here are some Dons. That's Hallam! We'll give him a cheer. I say,
Townshend, look at this fellow. He doesn't think small beer of himself. I
wonder who he is? The Duke of Wellington's valet come to say his master is
engaged. Oh! by Jove, he heard you! I wonder if the Duke will come? Won't
we give him a cheer!'

'By Jove! who is this?' exclaimed Townshend, and he jumped from the wall,
and, followed by his companions, rushed towards the road.

Two britskas, each drawn by four grey horses of mettle, and each
accompanied by outriders as well mounted, were advancing at a rapid pace
along the road that leads from Slough to the College. But they were
destined to an irresistible check. About fifty yards before they had
reached the gate that leads into Weston's Yard, a ruthless but splendid
Albanian, in crimson and gold embroidered jacket, and snowy camise,
started forward, and holding out his silver-sheathed yataghan commanded
the postilions to stop. A Peruvian Inca on the other side of the road gave
a simultaneous command, and would infallibly have transfixed the outriders
with an arrow from his unerring bow, had they for an instant hesitated.
The Albanian Chief then advanced to the door of the carriage, which he
opened, and in a tone of great courtesy, announced that he was under the