it best; and if he, one of the most eloquent men in England, remained silent, I surely need not make myself heard on the occasion.  It was a great triumph for him, a liberal leader, to receive the testimonial of a degree from the old conservative university.  To myself it was a graceful and pleasing compliment; to him it was a grave and significant tribute.  As we marched through the crowd on our way from Balliol, the people standing around recognized Mr. Bright, and cheered him vociferously.

The exercises in the Sheldonian Theatre were more complex and lasted longer than those at the other two universities.  The candidate stepped forward and listened to one sentence, then made another move forward and listened to other words, and at last was welcomed to all the privileges conferred by the degree of Doctor of Civil Law, which was announced as being bestowed upon him.  Mr. Bright, of course, was received with immense enthusiasm.  I had every reason to be gratified with my own reception.  The only “chaffing” I heard was the question from one of the galleries, “Did he come in the One-Hoss Shay?”—­at which there was a hearty laugh, joined in as heartily by myself.  A part of the entertainment at this ceremony consisted in the listening to the reading of short extracts from the prize essays, some or all of them in the dead languages, which could not have been particularly intelligible to a large part of the audience.  During these readings there were frequent interpellations, as the French call such interruptions, something like these:  “That will do, sir!” or “You had better stop, sir!” —­always, I noticed, with the sir at the end of the remark.  With us it would have been “Dry up!” or “Hold on!” At last came forward the young poet of the occasion, who read an elaborate poem, “Savonarola,” which was listened to in most respectful silence, and loudly applauded at its close, as I thought, deservedly.  Prince and Princess Christian were among the audience.  They were staying with Professor and Mrs. Max Mueller, whose hospitalities I hope they enjoyed as much as we did.  One or two short extracts from A——­’s diary will enliven my record:  “The Princess had a huge bouquet, and going down the aisle had to bow both ways at once, it seemed to me:  but then she has the Guelph spine and neck!  Of course it is necessary that royalty should have more elasticity in the frame than we poor ordinary mortals.  After all this we started for a luncheon at All Souls, but had to wait (impatiently) for H. R. H. to rest herself, while our resting was done standing.”

It is a long while since I read Madame d’Arblay’s Recollections, but if I remember right, standing while royalty rests its bones is one of the drawbacks to a maid of honor’s felicity.

“Finally, at near three, we went into a great luncheon of some fifty.  There were different tables, and I sat at the one with royalty.  The Provost of Oriel took me in, and Mr. Browning was on my other side.  Finally, we went home to rest, but the others started out again to go to a garden-party, but that was beyond us.”  After all this came a dinner-party of twenty at the Vice-Chancellor’s, and after that a reception, where among others we met Lord and Lady Coleridge, the lady resplendent in jewels.  Even after London, this could hardly be called a day of rest.