monly called stillettoes, skeans, bows and arrows, bombardas (what they are, even Ainsworth did not know, as he has left the word out of his dictionary), either by day or night, except on a distant journey to or from Oxford, under the penalty of being fined two shillings to their university." The same statute, however, allows the members to carry bows and arrows," honestæ recreationis causâ," which is doubtless the origin of the archery meetings which are now held in the gardens of those colleges which are fortunate enough to have these delightful appendages.

As these statutes were written before the days of Friar Bacon, who invented gunpowder, and lived at or upon Grandpont (the bridge at the bottom of St. Aldates), and, have not been materially altered since Friar Bacon's time, no mention is made of cannons (excepting those of Christ Church), guns, pistols, or pistolets-the use of them is therefore allowed, or at least winked at, which is the same thing, "honestæ recreationis causâ," in lieu of the bow and arrow, the use of which is confined to a few very fine men, who like to attitudinize and show off their figure before the ladies.

Archery meetings, I allow, are very pleasant things for bringing people together to eat and drink in a tent, lounge about prettily laid-out grounds, and finish the evening with a dance; but it puts me in an awful rage to see a great, strapping, full-grown fellow with a diminutive bow in his hand, fancying himself Robin Hood, because he happens to have on a Spanish hat and feathers, a suit of Lincoln green, with a "quiver full of arrows" at his back, a delicate white kid glove on one hand, and a thing like three tailor's thimbles on the other, to prevent his tender fingers being hurt by the string! I say it puts me in a passion to see this archer-toxophilite, I beg pardon-after putting himself into the most approved position, and with difficulty sending forty or fifty little arrows, not clothyard shafts, eighty or ninety yards, some to the right, and others to the left, to the danger of his surrounding admirers; receive the congratulations of his friends, and a silver bauble from the hand of some beautiful girl, for having, by great good luck, put one arrow out of the lot into some part of a target, six feet in diameter. But I am wandering as far from my subject as toxophilites' arrows do from the mark at which they are aimed.

Mr. Nathan Nevermiss, the hero of this tale, he shall be his own historian, when I have properly introduced and described him,-was a fellow commoner of St. Mark's College, and a constant visiter in our common room, where his agreeable manners, witty conversation, and vocal powers rendered him an acceptable guest. In person he was tall and thin, with a face that would have made a comedian's fortune-it was naturally so very ugly; and he had increased its ugliness by screwing it up into a wrinkled cumulus, in his efforts to remedy the shortsightedness with which he was so much afflicted, as to be obliged at last to wear spectacles constantly. He was never seen to smile, even at his own jokes, though they threw all his friends into convulsions. His laugh, if it could be called such, was a sepulchral oh! hah! which issued from his chest without any sympathetic movement of the muscles of his face. His whole appearance indicated ill-health and bodily weak⚫ness, so much so indeed, that a Wiltshire farmer, who was travelling with him one very windy day, on the outside of a coach overcome by his

humane feelings, said to him, "Put down thy umberrelly, lad, or thee'lt be blawed right ath'ert that volla veild." But appearances, in his case as in many others, were deceitful; he was one of the most powerful men of his day, and never paid a doctor a shilling since he was innoculated and had the hooping-cough. He used to amuse his friends by tying a kitchen poker round his neck, lifting two half-hundred weights, and knocking them together over his head, and other feats of strength; his hands, though thin and bony, were so very strong that he could crush a pewter measure with ease, and would have strangled the American sea-serpent if he had been lucky enough to get him within his grasp.

As a proof of his powers of compression I will relate an anecdote which I heard from one of his friends.

As they were walking along Fleet-street, arm-in-arm, they observed a very suspicious looking character dodging them, and at last, as they stopped to look in at a print-shop, endeavouring to extract their handkerchiefs. "Wait a minute," said Nathan, "I'll have him." They moved on, and the pickpocket taking advantage of a favourable crush of passengers, put his hand into Nathan's coat pocket. He seized it immediately, and in spite of all the fellow's exertions to release himself, held him as in a blacksmith's vice.

"Let me go sir-pray let me go! I'll never again-oh-oh-pray sir!" and the fellow roared so loudly, and performed so many extraordinary gyrations, as to attract a large crowd, who could not tell what to make of it. Nathan, however, walked on very quietly, increasing the strength of his grasp, until he dragged the man, now pale with pain, and utterly unable to do any thing but groan, through Templebar, and into the first apothecary's shop he saw, where he released him, and pulling out half-a-crown, laid it on the counter, and coolly requested Mr. Bolus "to give that poor fellow a lotion."

Mr. Bolus kindly inquired how he was hurt.

"How? Why I presume he has left his own pocket-handkerchief at home, and in trying to borrow mine, my rascally tailor has made the pocket so small, that he has crushed his hand in attempting to get it out again." The thief had fainted from excess of agony.

I shall relate one other circumstance as a proof of his great bodily strength and courage, which created a great sensation at the time it happened, not only in Oxford, but in the surrounding neighbourhood.

He had walked over to a village, about two miles from Oxford, to dine with a friend who had taken lodgings there for the vacation, and when night came, the darkness was so intense, that every effortwas made to induce him to sleep there, and return to Oxford in the morning, but in vain. He laughed at the idea of the danger of falling into a ditch or the hands of robbers, and set out by the nearest cut across the fields. He found his way with difficulty, and was congratulating himself on reaching the last gate, which opened into the turnpike-road within half a mile of the town, when he heard the voices of three men in conversation. He supposed, however, that they were merely labourers returning to their homes after indulging to rather a late hour at some public-house; he therefore leaped the gate, and saying “good night" passed quickly by them.

It was still dark, but his eyes having become accustomed to the

darkness, he could just see that one of the three was a very tall, stout man, and the other two much shorter, and that all were dressed as bargemen usually are.

At this period there was only one house in this part of the suburbs; it stood in a walled garden, and divided the turnpike-road from the footpath. Thinking it would be lighter in the road than on the path he turned back, and passed the men again, intending to go round the wall, at the corner of which they were now standing, but was knocked violently against the wall by a blow from behind. He turned round; and saw the stoutest man in the act of repeating the blow, but he warded it off, and knocked him down: the other two then came upon him. He kept them at bay by striking at them, and retreating to the gate over which he had jumped into the turnpike-road, intending if possible to leap over it again, and trust to his legs and the darkness for his escape. Before he could accomplish this, the stoutest man again came up, and seizing a large stone from a heap placed near for the repair of the roads, hurled it at him with such force as to knock him backwards into a deep but dry ditch. The ruffian threw himself upon him, and seizing him by the neckcloth tried to strangle him with one hand, and to tear out his watch with the other, his two companions looking on and with dreadful oaths and imprecations urging him to murder him.

In this dreadful strait his presence of mind did not forsake him, but lifting the fellow with his left elbow he contrived to take his penknife from his waistcoat pocket with his right hand and to open it." He could," as he said, "have ripped the fellow up, but had not the heart to kill a fellow-creature." He, however, drew the knife sharply across his wrist, and divided all the tendons of the hand which was grasping his throat. The fellow gave a sharp, shrill cry, and fell over him as though he had fainted. As no time was to be lost, he sprung to his feet, and seizing the stone with which he had been assailed, ran at the nearest of the two, who were still on the bank, and felled him to the ground. The third man fled towards Oxford, and Nathan pursued him some yards, but in trying to follow him over a stile which led into the fields, he found himself too weak from the loss of blood which was still pouring from his nose. Thinking the other two might again attack him, he staggered on as well as he could to the turnpike-gate, and knocked the gate-keeper up.

They obtained the assistance of the watchman, and returned with lanterns to the scene of the outrage, but found no traces of the perpetrators. In the ditch, however, was a large pool of blood, which must have flowed from the wrist of the wounded man.

We had in Oxford, at that time, a very clever police officer, called Jack Smith; Mr. Nathan went to his house, and knocking him up informed him of the circumstances, described the men as well as he could, and then retired to bed.

In the morning, Jack rose before daylight, and went to all the houses in St. Thomas's parish, where the bargemen generally lodge, but could not find the men he sought. He learnt, however, at the canal wharf, that a boat had left at daybreak for Banbury, with two men on board, and another driving the horse. The description of the captain tallied exactly with that given to him of the tallest and stoutest man, and his suspicions of his being the man he "wanted" were confirmed by hear

ing that he had asked a bystander to "cast off the rope for him, for he had hurt his left hand."

Without explaining the reasons for his inquiries, lest a hint should be given to his men, he went to Mr. Nathan's rooms, and, after a hearty breakfast, drove him to Banbury. They left their gig in the town, and walked down to the house by the canal-side, where the bargemen resorted, and ander pretence of asking about a boat-load of timber which they expected, sat down in the little parlour and called for refresh

ments.

After waiting some hours, a boat came in, and a tall, stout man, with his left hand tied up in a handkerchief, came on shore, and walked into the tap-room. Jack followed him, and telling him he wanted to speak with him a minute in the passage, asked him, "How he came to knock the gentleman about so last night as well as robbing him of his watch ?"

"Knocked him about," said the man, taken by surprise, and thrown off his guard, "I wish I had murdered him, for he has maimed me for life."

This was quite enough for Jack. His prisoner was handcuffed, and in Oxford gaol, within four hours from the time he was taken; the other two were also secured.

At the ensuing assizes all were found guilty-the two were transported, and the stout man sentenced to death, and left for execution, without a prospect of respite or reprieve.

Nathan, though he knew the sentence was a just one, and the punishment deserved, "had not the heart" to be the cause of the premature death of any one-even of a man who had had no mercy on him. He sent up memorials and petitions to the Home Secretary, but without effect. He then went up to town and requested a personal interview, which was granted. The result, however, was the same; no mercy could be extended in such a case. A second and a third interview was granted him, and so intense was the agony displayed, and so earnest were his prayers for mercy on the criminal for his sake, that the secretary at length yielded to his entreaties, and he returned to Oxford with the document which commuted the sentence to transportation for life.

Had he failed, and the man been hanged, there is but little doubt he would have been in a lunatic asylum for the rest of his days. Such was Mr. Nathan Nevermiss in the serious scenes of life.

"In war a lion, but in peace a lamb."

One evening as he was sitting in the common-room, entertaining the company as usual with his jests and tales, and making every body laugh but himself, which made them laugh ten times more, the subject of shooting came on the tapis, and at the request of one of the party he told the following tale.

"I was always very fond of shooting, and so I am now, but not nearly so madly attached to it as I was. A newly-married man is generally very sweet upon his wife for the first month or two-but some how or another the heat of this attachment cools down by degrees. My double-barrel gun was my wife-made by Dupe. Flint and steel of course -for copper-caps were not invented then. I did love her dearly. She

was seldom out of my arms. With her in my hand I was happy, though it could not be called single blessedness. Like all human wives, if I overloaded her with kindness she was apt to kick, and like some of them had a way of going off in another man's arms,' as readily as in my own; though when she had done so she did not wait for the newspapers to publish the affair, but gave the report of it herself. She was a beauty. I can truly say I was wedded to her, and what is more than some husbands can say, kept her in such good order, that she never ran rusty-oh! oh! hah!

"During the last three or four days of August I was always diligently employed in screwing and unscrewing, oiling and wiping the locks and barrels-polishing the stock-selecting flints and agates→→ cutting out stamps-drying powder and measuring out shot-selecting and greasing boots and shoes-examining jackets and gaiters-in fact, seeing over and over again that every thing was ready for the first.'

"I had a dog then, called Don; an old Spanish pointer, with a coarse short stern, and a face with a nose like a nigger's, slit in two., He combined in his person, which was somewhat of the largest, all the qualifications of pointer, spaniel, water-dog, and retriever-I might add greyhound, or rather lurcher, for if he came upon a hare in a furzebush, or a bit of short cover, he was pretty nearly sure to pounce upon her before she could get many yards from him. He never attempted this, however, unless she started before I could come up within shot. One other virtue I must not omit-for he was more celebrated for that than any of the sporting qualities; he was the greatest and most successful thief that ever lived. Our college cook used to hate the sight of him; for he would slip into the kitchen, get under the dresser, and watch his every movement; and the moment poor Coquus's back was turned, seize upon a loin of lamb or mutton, or indeed any joint within his reach, for he was not particular, and run off as hard as he could scamper-sometimes with an additional tail behind him, consisting of the cook, cook's-mates, scullery-wenches, and half a dozen of the scout's-boys, armed with the readiest missiles; the pursuit was useless if he once got clear of the gates and the porter's whip, and the four or five pounds of meat was put down in my battels at ten or twelve pounds, and I was fined five shillings for letting my dog come into college.

"As for sleeping a wink on the night of the last day of August, without dreaming of what was to happen the next day, was out of the question; the moment I had closed my eyes there I was in a turnipfield, old Don beating about, and brushing the heavy dew off the leaves as he bounded along; all of a sudden down he dropped-his tail as stiff as a poker, and his head a little turned towards me, winking at me with one eye, as much as to say, 'here they are, master, come up,' then I would try to walk up, but my feet refused to leave the spot, or perhaps if I did walk up, and spring the birds, I could not get my gun off, though I pulled and pulled as hard as I could. Sometimes the hammers would go down as gently as if the spring was broken, at others, the report was not louder than an air-gun's, and I could see the shot skimming gently through the air, and hitting the birds without hurting them in the least. Imagining that I had left powder-flask-shot-belt-or some other requisite behind me, after