forthwith.
He occupied the few minutes of her absence by writing the testimonial. It had shaped itself in his mind as a short ode in Doric Greek. But, for the benefit of Mrs. Batch, he chose to do a rough equivalent in English.
TO AN UNDERGRADUATE NEEDING
ROOMS IN OXFORD
(A Sonnet in Oxfordshire Dialect)
Zeek w'ere thee will in t'Univursity,
Lad, thee'll not vind nor bread nor bed that matches
Them as thee'll vind, roight zure, at Mrs. Batch's . . .
I do not quote the poem in extenso, because, frankly, I think it was one of his least happily-inspired works. His was not a Muse that could with a good grace doff the grand manner. Also, his command of the Oxfordshire dialect seems to me based less on study than on conjecture. In fact, I do not place the poem higher than among the curiosities of literature. It has extrinsic value, however, as illustrating the Duke's thoughtfulness for others in the last hours of his life. And to Mrs. Batch the MS., framed and glazed in her hall, is an asset beyond price (witness her recent refusal of Mr. Pierpont Morgan's sensational bid for it).
This MS. she received together with the Duke's cheque. The presentation was made some twenty minutes after she had laid her accounts before him.
