MATRICULATING AT BALLIOL 129 



I enjoyed myself very much saw the river and many torpids, 

 but not the Eight, which, I believe, is a very bad one, as Tinne, 

 Willan and Yarborough, members of last year's crew, have appar- 

 ently decided to give Cambridge a chance and are not going to 

 row. The demand for dogs is so great that Tom and I are at 

 our wit's end how to supply it. 



So ended that first Oxford adventure, and very thankful 

 was I afterwards that I did not become a Christ Church 

 student, though I was in the final six competitors and there 

 were four studentships to fill, but the mathematical paper 

 was prohibitive so far as I was concerned, and I left it 

 untouched. Later on comes a letter with better news : 



I arrived back here on Friday evening having matriculated 

 successfully at Balliol. This you must remember is by no means 

 easy to do, as their standard is very high, and it is necessary to 

 show a certain amount of mathematical skill, which I just managed 

 to do, with a caution that I must improve in that particular. Old 

 Dr Scott, the master, told me they should expect me to read for 

 Honours, which will be very laborious. 



It is rather interesting to note that I matriculated before 

 the beginning of Jowett's Mastership of Balliol, which 

 was in 1870. The Doctor Scott referred to was of 

 Liddell and Scott fame. 



Towards the end of that winter term, 1869 viz. on 

 zoth December is a letter showing, in a slight degree, 

 what we all thought of Doctor Temple : 



The Doctor preaches his farewell sermon this afternoon which 

 will be a very terrible ordeal. Our House-supper comes off on 

 Tuesday. I shall have to make two or three speeches. 



The following Ode, written and composed for the 

 occasion of Doctor Temple's farewell, will bear repetition, 

 as many old Rugbeians will have forgotten it : 



ODE 



Solo and Chorus Rhoades and Oakeley 



MASTER, best beloved and best, 



Ours for ever, as to-night. 

 Hands at parting may be press 'd, 



Tears reluctant dim the sight, 



