with him on the occasion.  It is true, the Oxford Dons are often charged with injustice and partiality, and too often the evidence is not sufficiently strong to excuse their judgments; but in this the evidence was not denied; only a palliative was put in, which every one can see through.  The only injustice we can discover in this case is, that the head of Hart Hall, as Hertford College was called, seemed to have been influenced in pronouncing his sentence of expulsion by certain previous suspicions, having no bearing on the question before him, which had been entertained by another set of tutors—­those of Christchurch—­where Selwyn had many friends, and where, probably enough, he indulged in many collegian’s freaks.  This knack of bringing up a mere suspicion, is truly characteristic of the Oxford Don, and since the same Head of this House—­Dr. Newton—­acknowledged that Selwyn was, during his Oxford career, neither intemperate, dissolute, nor a gamester, it is fair to give him the advantage of the doubt, that the judgment on the evidence had been influenced by the consideration of ‘suspicions’ of former misdeeds, which had not been proved, perhaps never committed.  Knowing the after-life of the man, we can, however, scarcely doubt that George had led a fast life at the University, and given cause for mistrust.  But one may ask whether Dons, whose love of drinking, and whose tendency to jest on the most solemn subjects, are well known even in the present day, might not have treated Selwyn less harshly for what was done under the influence of wine?  To this we are inclined to reply, that no punishment is too severe for profanation; and that drunkenness is not an excuse, but an aggravation.  Selwyn threatened to appeal, and took advice on the matter.  This, as usual, was vain.  Many an expelled man, more unjustly treated than Selwyn, has talked of appeal in vain.  Appeal to whom?  To what?  Appeal against men who never acknowledge themselves wrong, and who, to maintain that they are right, will listen to evidence which they can see is contradictory, and which they know to be worthless!  An appeal from an Oxford decision is as hopeless in the present day as it was in Selwyn’s.  He wisely left it alone, but less wisely insisted on reappearing in Oxford, against the advice of all his friends, whose characters were lost if the ostracised man were seen among them.

From this time he entered upon his ‘profession,’ that of a wit, gambler, club-lounger, and man about town; for these many characters are all mixed in the one which is generally called ‘a wit.’  Let us remember that he was good-hearted, and not ill-intentioned, though imbued with the false ideas of his day.  He was not a great man, but a great wit.