The sprain prevented his playing in the matches at Lord’s that summer, though he was well enough to be reckoned on as a substitute in case any of the actual players had been disabled.  Possibly his accident was good for his studies, for this was a year of much progress and success; and though only seventeen, he had two offers of tutorship for the holidays, from Mr. Dugdale and the Marchioness of Bath.  The question where his university life was to be spent began to come forward.  Studentships at Christchurch were then in the gift of the Canons, and a nomination would have been given him by Dr. Pusey if he had not been too young to begin to reside, so that it was thought better that he should wait and go up for the Balliol scholarship in the autumn.

In the October of 1844 he describes to his eldest sister the reception of King Louis Philippe at Eton, accompanied by the Queen, Prince Albert, and the Duke of Wellington: 

’The King wore a white great coat, and looked a regular jolly old fellow.  He has white frizzle hair and large white whiskers.  The former, I suspect, is a wig.  The cheering was tremendous, but behind the royal carriage the cheers were always redoubled where the old Duke, the especial favourite hero, rode.  When they got off their horses in the schoolyard, the Duke being by some mistake behindhand, was regularly hustled in the crowd, with no attendant near him.

’I was the first to perceive him, and springing forward, pushed back the fellows on each side, who did not know whom they were tumbling against, and, taking off my hat, cheered with might and main.  The crowd hearing the cheer, turned round, and then there was the most glorious sight I ever saw.  The whole school encircled the Duke, who stood entirely alone in the middle for a minute or two, and I rather think we did cheer him.  At last, giving about one touch to his hat, he began to move on, saying, “Get on, boys, get on.”  I never saw such enthusiasm here; the masters rushed into the crowd round him, waving their caps, and shouting like any of us.  As for myself, I was half-mad and roared myself hoarse in about five minutes.  The King and Prince kept their hats off the whole time, incessantly bowing, and the King speaking.  He walked arm-in-arm with the Queen, who looked well and very much pleased.  The Duke walked with that Grand Duchess whose name you may see in the papers, for I can’t spell it.’

Very characteristic this both of Eton’s enthusiasm for the hero, and of the hero’s undemonstrative way of receiving it, which must have somewhat surprised his foreign companions.

A week or two later, in November 1844, came the competition for the Balliol scholarship, but Coley was not successful.  On the Saturday he writes:—­