serves as a grim reminder that next au- | Martini-Peabody rifles, and as many cuttumn another may fall victim to the light-lasses, all well kept and brightly polished, ning-flash. are arranged in a stand, and constitute the armament of the ship's company. A great deal of shouting from the two sailors who accompany us brings a manof war's boat from the other side to carry us across to the steamers. We enter the boat, Giorgio and the two sailors remaining on shore. The commodore takes the tiller, and the lithe little crew from the Black Sea coast take us rapidly towards the lake; and it is as well they do so, for before we have gone very far, we discover that the water is unpleasantly high in the bottom of the boat. The commodore explains that this is one of two new boats lately sent from Constantinople, and that they were left some time on the shore at the mouth of the Boiana before being brought up the river, and consequently some of the seams have started. He trusts resignedly that they will close when the boat has been in the water a little while, and meantime counsels us to put our feet up on the thwart in front of us. The brown little sailors are dressed much as sailors usually are, except that they wear the fez, which has become almost the only distinguishing part of an Ottoman Turk's dress; for their loose trousers, and shirt with full wide collar of dark-blue cotton, might be worn by the mariners of any power. In a few minutes' time we bump against the side of the flag. ship, and mount the broad and commodious ladder which hangs over the side. Both the commodore and his second in command are stout and dignified, and have no intention of scrambling up the side even of a penny steamer in any but the very easiest fashion. The captain, having seen us on the shore, has made preparations in our honor by girding on his sword and hastily but toning up the front of his uniform all awry. He salaams courteously; and the bright blades of four sailors drawn up in line flash in the sunshine as they salute the commodore and ourselves. Instantly four rush-bottomed chairs are thrust up the hatchway by an unseen hand, and we take our seats in a circle, while cigarettes and coffee are handed round -a ceremony which it would be a most terrible breach of etiquette to omit. This done, we stroll round the ship, a duty very quickly finished. The vessel carries two guns, one a little brass popgun in the bows, used for firing salutes; and the other a long Krupp gun in the stern, which would in all probability shake the old tub to pieces if it were fired. In the cabin below, a dozen As for the vessels themselves, they were built at Glasgow about the commencement of the Crimean war, and after doing good service on the Clyde, were bought by the Turkish government, and transferred to the Bosporus. There they ran to and fro for some fifteen years, and then the Porte conceived the brilliant idea of turning them into men-of-war, and sending them into Lake Scodra to aid in the campaign against Montenegro. On the wheel are recorded the builder's name and the date. Poor old boats! they still do the journey backwards and forwards across the lake, especially when any distinguished personage wishes to go from Scodra to Montenegro; and after the signature of the Virbazar Convention, they transported several families of ragged refugees into the already poverty-harassed city of Scodra. The commodore evidently takes a sort of pride in his command, although he admits that he can get no great speed out of his ships. Pressed on this point, he confesses that he does not know their rate of speed, but that it takes several hours to steam to Lissendra, at the far end of the lake. "No, there is no coal; that is a great drawback. Sometimes a ship brings coal, and leaves some at Medua for the squadron; but there has been none for some time past. They burn wood; and when they cross the lake, the whole deck is cumbered with firewood, so that at first there is hardly room to move; but the furnaces burn such a quantity that the pile is soon diminished." The captain tells us with considerable satisfaction that he can speak English; but as he makes this avowal in Turkish, we are naturally rather sceptical on the point, until it slowly dawns upon us that the queer sounds with which he follows up his assertion are English words of command: " Easer, stopper, bakker, turnerastern, goaed." The captain reels off the phrases in a low voice, without pause or inflection, and looking very like a sheepish schoolboy repeating a French lesson. He also gives us the English names for parts of the engines and gear; for the Turks, like most Eastern races, have adopted the English terms for machinery and the like, the Turkish language even boasting such a verb as trurstrn-etmk, which means, “to turn her astern." But the sun is drawing near Mount Rumia; and if we wish to be home before aksham, we must leave at once; so, as the commodore expresses his intention of remaining on board for some time longer, we take leave of him and the captain, and once more trust ourselves to the leaky boat. On shore, Giorgio receives us, evidently rather bored by his long wait; and after giving a present to the boat's crew, we join the crowd of merchants going home from the bazaar, and reach the house just as the muezzin is mounting the rickety wooden minaret of the mosque near my door and preparing to summon the faithful to the evening prayer. From The Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News. CURIOSITIES OF OXFORD LIFE IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. IN every department of life and study the Oxford of to-day, with its married "dons," their wives, babies, and peram bulators, and its "encouragement of research," is widely different from the Oxford of the later Tudor and early Stuart times. From the beginning of the seventeenth century until the Civil War two generations of academics were gradually enlarging the old scope of the place's studies. The colleges were amassing wealth, and crowds of students flocking to them. Casaubon states that in 1613 there were above two thousand students at the different colleges, "generally of respectable parentage, and some even of the first nobility," though we need not accept his figures as quite correct (Brodrick's "Merton College," p. 66). We propose to put on record a few curiosities of the life and studies of these devotees of the Muses, mainly derived from Mr. A. Clark's recently published account of the "Register of the University." Oxfordshire and Devon supplied, as was natural, a large proportion of these students, in which Wilts alone runs them close. Nowadays a youth seldom matriculates, as it is termed, i.e., becomes a member of the university, until he is of the age of eighteen or nineteen. But in the later years of the sixteenth and early in the next century boys (we can hardly term them men) matriculated at twelve and thirteen, while there is an instance (in 1618) of one joining at five, and several at seven, eight, and nine years of age! These lads probably possessed private tutors, who looked after them. Many of these students were extremely poor, and were largely supported during term by the college funds. Dur ing the vacations they were supplied by the university with begging licenses (in order to escape the stringency of the Tudor laws against vagrancy), and sent out by pairs to find their way to their respective homes. From 1551 to 1572 many of these licenses yet survive. The youths were required to surrender them upon their return, and sureties were appointed to see that they did so. Permission to beg for three or even six months was thus granted to them, and then they seem to have been lodged and entertained at the different gentlemen's houses on their way. In olden days the monasteries while yet standing had obviated this begging system, and extended hospitality to all who came. As at present, the duties of undergraduates were comprised in reading, performing certain exercises, and listening to lectures. Then, having kept a stated number of terms, they might on making some fixed payments obtain. degrees. Wearing of gowns is rigidly insisted on at present during all lectures and while dining in hall, but with what success in the streets the visitor to Oxford may note for himself. The proctors, however, fine any one caught after dark without his gown. When Queen Elizabeth visited the university in 1592, a worse fate awaited the disobedient. "Whosoever shall be taken or seene during the Queenes Majesties abode otherwise apparelled than the statuts of the Universitie do appoint, shall presentlie forfeit Xs and suffer imprisonment at the discretion of the said officers." And this injunction applied to graduates as well, who may now (and do) dress as they choose. On the same occasion it is evi dent that undergraduate nature is much at present what it was. It is provided "that the schollers which cannot be admitted to see the Playes " (which were acted to amuse the queen) "do not make any outcries or undecent noyse about the haule staires or within the quadrangle of Christchurch as usuallie they were wont to doe, upon paine of present imprisonment and other punishment." Dispensations were frequently granted for residence during certain fixed times at the university. Some of these were allowed for curious reasons as it seems to us at present. Illness, of course, frequently figures. The difficulties of winter travelling are often alluded to. One George Page, about 1612, is allowed his degree though delayed behind the ordinary day on account of the great snows and consequent perils." In the same year Walter Shaw, evidently an east Yorkshireman, was delayed "owing "for the procession," for ringing the bells, to the mighty waves and dangerous tides and other items. Many now living have of the Humber." Others, again, in 1606 thus paid, and many must remember (what and 1611 had concessions made to them the writer perfectly remembers seeing) on account of the plague. Poverty is an- how one Salisbury Baxendale, of Balliol other reason for a dispensation. "23 Mar. College, May 14, 1853, took his degree as 1585, Francis Mansfeld was dispensed six the last grand compounder. The viceterms; he was too poor to stay in the chancellor and proctors had long ceased University, and had gone down to teach a to escort the compounder dressed in a gentleman's sons in the country." An red robe, with a trumpet blown before enormous number of such permissions him, and his whole college escorting him. about that time shows how commonly edu- But this "last man" insisted on having cation in country houses was given by the the usual procession if he paid the fees. private tutor. The Saturday before Ash He gained his point and amused Oxford, Wednesday was known during the six- but his action brought about the discon teenth and seventeenth centuries as "Egg tinuance of the system. Some of the Saturday" at Oxford, because men then public disputations must have been suffi taking their bachelor's degree had been ciently amusing. Thus, at the giving of wont to give a banquet to the proctors M.A. degrees in 1600, it was debated, and bedells, or, to call them profanely, "What is the right way to tame a shrew?" poker-men. It was soon commuted for a We cannot tell whether the proverb which money payment of 2s., to be equally di- might have been used was then in vogue, vided among the three bedells. Fees" Every one can tame a shrew but he that then, as now, largely augmented the in- hath her." Another question was, "Ought come of the university. At certain dispu- Aristotle to have included a wife among tations held in 1578 the masters of the the goods of a philosopher?" The new schools (still a name of terror to under- M.A., after these disputations, had his graduates) asked for an increase of sti- hood and cap put on him by the vicepend. Each candidate was ordered to pay chancellor, who then kissed him, saying, them 4d., or a pair of gloves. "Culet" is "Amoris mei pignus osculum." Doctors an old academic word for certain accumu- and masters properly wore sandals and lated fees. New College, until the late "greaves" after their creation for some statutes, possessed many privileges. If a time, but could obtain dispensations from lad were a scholar of Winchester, for in- wearing them if they paid a flagon of stance, he naturally passed to New as a wine. Without doubt the modern bishscholar, and almost as certainly blossomed op's gaiters are the legitimate descendants in due course into a fellow of that august of these "greaves." To return to the society. In 1600, it is provided, "if the disputations for degrees, some more amuscandidate be of New College, he pays in ing questions were, in 1581, "Whether addition to all other fees 2s. 8d., pro the mother loves her offspring more than munificentia domus, owing to the wealth the father?" and in 1593, "Are players of his foundation." A D.D. had to pay infamous?" and we regret to say it was heavily for his degree, and give a dinner decided that they were. One William as well to the proctors, the vice-chancel- Turner disputed in 1608, "Whether one lor, and sundry others. The items of his meal a day was sufficient for a man?" and fees show that even in 1600 the art of run- decided, no. Again he entered the lists, ning up bills was well understood at Ox-"Whether supper ought to be on a more ford. They are such as "dressing the liberal scale than dinner?" and decided divinity school," for the loan of a hood this in the affirmative. In 1620, in a medand gown, for two pilions or cushions, to ical degree, it was gravely discussed, the proctors, to the registrar, to the uni-"Whether only the king of France had versity minister and others, winding up power to cure scrofula by touch?" and with "for beer and wine 2s. 4d." (probably it was settled, no; and once more (how for the bedells). If a man were possessed comic must it have been to hear grave of £40 a year of his own from 1600 up to doctors discussing it!), "Whether love 1853 he was called "a grand compounder," was a disease?" This was settled in the had the right to have a procession formed affirmative. Whether an attack of love at in his honor when he took his degree, and first sight could now be cured by pills and was charged very heavy fees "for wine," draughts secundum artem, may well be "for presentation" to the university clerk, | doubted. For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, 18 cents. THE WINTER SEA. THE gladness of sunshine and summer Is ruling with hoar coronet; The woodlands are weary and lonely, The sea that we loved in the May-time, And worshipped in rose-covered June, That glimmered and glowed in the daytime, Low lisping her languorous tune; Her voice has grown careworn and hollow, The sunlight has died on her brow; Her tides that the gulls once did follow Are desolate now! ness, Light-hearted and free? No yachts on the sea, but a steamer That's ploughing its wearisome way; No soft summer wind, but the bluster Of seagulls reluctant of flight; Spectator. The corn-flow'r set 'Midst fields of wheat; On upland fells Wave lily-bells Their clusters sweet. While eglantine Its snowy flow'rs, Blue eye twinkles In mossy glade. Flow'rs red and blue, BEYOND THE MIST. OUT of the mist the river glides to us, Into the mist the river passes on, With inarticulate murmur flows anon Into the mist. And yet, perchance, upon its infant rills Fair shone the sun amid the cradling hills Before the mist. And when at last the full flood nears the main, Academy. FRED. J. Cox. FAIR FLOW'RS OF MAY. FLOW'RS red and blue, Of May-day fair, Gladly I greet With garlands bright The verdant lea! THE BIRD'S FAITH. WHAT matters it though life uncertain be Be never reached? What, though it fail and flee? Have we not each a soul? A soul that quickly must arise and soar Arise and dwell where pain can be no more, Be like the bird that on a bough too frail He carols, though the slender branches fail Victor Hugo, translated by E. R. Chapman. |