Undergraduate.  Yes, Sir, I have.

Tutor.  Then say it at once.

Undergraduate.  I went to Newmarket to see—­ [Hesitates.

Tutor.  Proceed, Sir.  Time presses.  You went to see what?

Undergraduate.  As a matter of fact, I was particularly anxious to see the Head of the University.

Tutor.  What do you mean, Sir?

Undergraduate.  The chief Dignitary of Cambridge, the Chancellor, the Duke of DEVONSHIRE.

Tutor.  You are trifling with me.

Undergraduate.  Not at all, Sir.  The Chancellor was there in state.  I saw him.  My curiosity was satisfied, and I returned to Cambridge.

Tutor (after a pause).  Ah, of course that alters the case.  If you can assure me you did not go for the purpose of watching horse-races—­

Undergraduate (breaking in).  Certainly, Sir.  I do give you the assurance.

Tutor.  That being so, I dismiss you with a caution.

    [Exit Undergraduate.  The Tutor is left pondering.

* * * * *

ANOTHER RURAL CONFERENCE.

    [A Church Dignitary, writing to The Globe, suggests that the
    rural reform most urgently needed is a better postal system in
    the shires.]

[Illustration]

Radical Reformer (meeting Rural Labourer tramping to London).  Yours is a typical case, my man.  You are a victim of our insensate Land Laws, or exploded Feudalism.  No doubt you are leaving the country because you could not find employment there?

Rural Labourer.  ’Tisn’t that so much.  Old Gaffer always had summat for a man to do, I can tell ye.

Radical Reformer.  Glad to hear it, though it’s unusual.  Then I suppose it is the intolerable dulness of the country that drives you away from it.

Rural Labourer.  ’Tisn’t that either.  Things be a bit dull in winter-time, cert’nly.  But there—­we’ve a Public, also a Free Reading Room, and—­

Radical Reformer (disappointed).  Glad to hear it, again, I’m sure, though that also is unusual.  Your house, now—­rather, I ought to call it, your hovel, perhaps—­lets in the rain badly—­reeks with damp—­only one room, and that a pigstye, eh?

Rural Labourer (offended).  Come now, don’t you call my house a pigstye!  Three good rooms, and not a bit o’ damp or dirt about it.

Radical Reformer.  Then the wages are low, and a tyrannical landlord refuses allotments, eh?

Rural Labourer.  Allotments!  I could have as many as I wanted for the asking.  But there—­I didn’t want ’em, y’see, and I didn’t ask.

Radical Reformer (gravelled).  Then would you explain to me what is the real reason of your determination to quit the country for Town?