shall have the whole army on us sooner or later, although it may be by degrees."
"Then what chance have we against such numbers with our handful of Europeans?"
"Not much, apparently. But a good deal may be hoped for from luck, and the blunders the villains may be trusted to make. Already they have made a great mistake in not rising at the same time everywhere. Of course, my dear boy," continued the colonel, laying his hand on Yorke's shoulder, "you will not repeat what I say. I speak plainly to you because I see you are the sort of man to be trusted."
On returning to his little camp by the court-house, Yorke found a note from Spragge awaiting him, brought by a servant who had come out from cantonments with the rest of his things. "We are just starting for Johtuck," said the writer. "The old women who command here have not got the pluck to take us with them, or to disarm us, but send us away because they funk keeping us with the force. Of course the men see through the dodge, and there is a change come over them already. They look as sulky as fiends. If our dear old colonel had been with us still, we might have had a chance; but poor Dumble has gone quite foolish, and is about as fit to have charge of the regiment as a hospital-nurse would be; and we shall have a flare-up before long, and no mistake. I write in an awful hurry. Good-bye, old fellow, and better luck to you than we are likely to have."
Just as Yorke had finished reading the note, the senior native officer of the detachment came up to make his report for the night; the old man's manner was quiet and respectful, as usual, and conveyed no impression that anything was wrong. Dismissing him, Yorke threw off his shell-jacket, and, lying down on the little cot which had been placed in front of the tent, watched the scene before him. A few yards in advance of his own tent was the little line of sepoys' tents, but the men were mostly sleeping outside, to get what air was to be had; a few were sitting in groups, passing the pipe round and talking. In advance was the guard-tent, with two sentries pacing up and down before it. Watching the peaceful scene, and wondering whether it was really to be the precursor of a life's crisis, the young man fell asleep.
A university is the organ of the intellectual life of the nation; it is the school of learning, the nursery of the liberal arts, the academy of the sciences, the home of letters, the retreat of the studious and the contemplative.
Wherever and whenever this ideal may have been realized in history, it was not in that chapter of the history of Oxford which we have open at present — viz., the epoch of the Restoration.
Anthony Wood's diary, which is scanty for the period of the civil war becomes more full for the reigns of Charles II. and James II. Our diarist, as has been already explained, has no intention of presenting us with a picture of Oxford — its pursuits, politics, studies, fashions, personages; he notes down only such occurrences as he himself was personally concerned in. Yet, from his memoranda we can collect a better idea of the state of things in Oxford during this period than we have the means of forming for any part of the time which has elapsed from Anthony Wood's death down to our own age. I confine myself on the present occasion to the relations between the University of Oxford and the government of the country. It will be seen that, while the intellectual influence of Oxford upon the nation was nil its social influence was great, and its political importance considerable. Indeed, it was because of the social influence which it possessed, because its roots were struck deep and wide in the soil of England, that it became of consequence to government to get possession of it, and to manipulate the influence of the university in the service of the crown.
That portion of the English people which in the Restoration period constituted public opinion was animated by two principal sentiments, by which it judged of all public questions, and of the conduct of its government. These sentiments were sentiments not of affection, but of aversion. The nation was not so much animated by loyal attachment to the hereditary prince, as it was urged by the dread of republicanism and military tyranny. It was not so much devoted to the Church of England, as it loathed and abominated Presbyterianism and Popery. Ill-informed of foreign affairs, ignorant of the secret intrigues
