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 dates] of our own [men]; did you suspect that I was one of the five? A Worcester man was very near getting it. They made me first do some verses; then Latin translation; then Latin theme; then chorus of Euripides; then an English theme; then some Plato; then some Lucretius; then some Xenophon; then some Livy. What is more distressing than suspense? At last I was called to the place where they had been voting; the Vice-Chancellor [the President] said some Latin over me; then made a speech. The electors then shook hands with me, and I immediately assumed the scholar's gown. First, as I was going out, before I had changed my gown, one of the candidates met me and wanted to know if it was decided. What was I to say? "It was." "And who has got it?" "Oh, an in-college man," I said; and I hurried away as fast as I could. On returning with my newly-earned gown, I met the whole set going to their respective homes. I did not know what to do; I held my eyes down. By this I am a scholar for nine years at £60 a year. In which time, if there be no Fellow of my county (among the Fellows), I may be elected Fellow, as a regular thing, for five years without taking orders.'

These four autobiographical chapters and the accompanying inter-chapters in which Miss