Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green by Bede, Cuthbert, 1827-1889

"Never mind the dog, sir," said the gentleman who sat between Mr. Bouncer and Mr. Green; "he won't hurt you. It's only his play; he always takes notice of strangers."

"But he is tearing my trousers," expostulated Mr. Green, who was by no means partial to the "play" of a thoroughbred terrier.

"Ah! he's an uncommon sensible dog," observed his master; "he's always on the look-out for rats everywhere. It's the Wellington boots that does it; he's accustomed to have a rat put into a boot, and he worries it out how he can. I daresay he thinks you've got one in yours."

"But I've got nothing of the sort, sir; I must request you to keep your dog--" A violent fit of coughing, caused by a well-directed volley of smoke from his neighbour's lips, put a stop to Mr. Green's expostulations.

"I hope my weed is no annoyance?" said the gentleman; "if it is, I will throw it away."

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 27]

To which piece of politeness Mr. Green could, of course, only reply, between fits of coughing, "Not in the least I - assure you, - I am very fond - of tobacco - in the open air."

"Then I daresay you'll do as we are doing, and smoke a weed yourself," said the gentleman, as he offered Mr. Green a plethoric cigar-case. But Mr. Green's expression of approbation regarding tobacco was simply theoretical; so he treated his neighbour's offer as magazine editors do the MSS. of unknown contributors - it was "declined with thanks."

Mr. Verdant Green had already had to make a similar reply to a like proposal on the part of his left-hand neighbour, who was now expressing violent admiration for our hero's top-coat.

"Ain't that a good style of coat, Charley?" he observed to his neighbour. "I wish I'd seen it before I got this over-coat! There's something sensible about a real, unadulterated top-coat; and there's a style in the way in which they've let down the skirts, and put on the velvet collar and cuffs regardless of expense, that really quite goes to one's heart. Now I daresay the man that built that," he said, more particularly addressing the owner of the coat, "condescends to live in a village, and waste his sweetness on the desert air, while a noble field might be found for his talent in a University town. That coat will make quite a sensation in Oxford. Won't it, Charley?"

And when Charley, quoting a popular actor (totally unknown to our hero), said, "I believe you, my bo-oy!" Mr. Verdant Green began to feel quite proud of the abilities of their village tailor, and thought what two delightful companions he had met with. The rest of the journey further cemented (as he thought) their friendship; so that he was fairly astonished, when on meeting them the next day they stared him full in the face, and passed on without taking any more notice of him. But freshmen cannot learn the mysteries of college etiquette in a day.