Little Mr Bouncer and His Friend Verdant Green/Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX.
LITTLE MR. BOUNCER TAKES PART IN A LITTLE-GO WINE.
CHARLES LARKYNS brought to an end the tale he had unfolded concerning Mr. Smirke, of Balliol, little Mr. Bouncer complied with his guest's request to fill his tankard, and said, "I shall meet Smirke to-night at Effingham's Little-go Wine. I hope he 'll be fun."
"What did you mean," whispered Verdant Green to his old friend, "by saying that you gave the wet men callidum-cum, and had frigidum-sine yourselves?"
"It 's the short for hot-with and cold-without, my lad," replied Charles Larkyns. "Now that you 've come to Oxford, you 'll live and learn in a variety of ways."
"I have found that out already, have n't I?" said Verdant to little Mr. Bouncer, who knew that he referred to his Derby book and to Mr. Blucher Boots's dark horse.
"I believe you, my bo-oy," responded Mr. Bouncer, after the manner of Mr. Paul Bedford. "And, by the way, your friend The Knight has claimed maiden allowance, and is going to run The Great Mogul for a monkey."
"Oh, indeed!" said Verdant; which was a tolerably safe exclamation, as he had not the slightest idea what Mr. Bouncer meant; and the phrases "maiden allowance" and "running for a monkey" were quite as dark to him as was the horse in connection with which they were used.
Little Mr. Bouncer guessed as much, and said, "Videsne puer? d' ye twig, young un? Perhaps you 'd like to put a pot of money on him, eh?" But this was said sotto voce, and was not heard by the rest of the party; and, in the same tone, Verdant replied, "No, indeed; I've done with horse-racing. Many thanks to you for having taught me a good lesson."
"I say, you fellows," burst in Mr. Four-in-hand Fosbrooke, who was looking forward to the morrow, when he would be seated on the box of the Oxford and Birmingham coach, and would be permitted by the coachman to handle the ribbons, and temporarily to take the reins of government; "oh, I say, you fellows! have you heard a good thing that Hargrave, of Wadham, has done?"
"Paid his ticks?" suggested Mr. Flexible Shanks.
"No; I am afraid that that is not his particular form of good thing, and that his duns will still have to wait for the settlement of their little bills," replied Mr. Fosbrooke. "And it is odd how many of these little bills turn up just at the very end of Term; in order, I suppose, to prepare one's mind all the more to enjoy the pleasures of the Long Vacation."
"The little bill is made long for the Long," said Charles Larkyns. "But, what did Hargrave do?"
"Perhaps he screwed Big Ben in his Warden's room?" suggested little Mr. Bouncer, somewhat irreverently referring to the head of the college of which Mr. Hargrave was a member.
"No; he did nothing so dreadful," replied Mr. Fosbrooke. "I was reminded of what he did by Smalls's tale of old Peter, the cakeman. The baker's boy had paid a visit to Hargrave's rooms, when no one was there, and had bagged some wine from a bottle that was on the mantle-shelf, where, also, was another bottle containing medicine. The wine was Rosolio, and the physic was similar in colour. Hargrave found out what the boy had done, and laid a trap for him, in case he should repeat the experiment. He cleared out the medicine bottle, and clapped the Rosolio into it; and then put the physic into the wine bottle, and mixed it up with a stiff dose of jalap. The baker's boy duly came, when no one was about, and had his usual sip at the bottle; for, when Hargrave came back, he found that about half a pint of the true 'mixture-as-before' had disappeared," and that the Rosolio was untouched. The boy did n't appear again for two weeks. Q.E.D. Moral: he never, after that, touched Hargrave's wine, or his physic."
"I thought you were going to say he never smiled again," said Mr. Fosbrooke. "Well; my moral is that of Ingoldsby: Pitch Greek to a certain person, and stick to conundrums. We have done with the old Greeks for a time, and unless we are going in for a class we sha' n't want to meet with them all the Long. I must be off! I daresay I shall see some of you on the top of the Birmingham coach to-morrow. You 'll be there, won't you, Bouncer?"
"No; not this time; I have promised to spend a day or two with old Smalls," replied little Mr. Bouncer. "And then I shall wander home by way of the little village."
"I suppose you 'll be for the coach, Larkyns?" asked Mr. Fosbrooke.
"No; I too am wandering home by way of the little village, as Bouncer says," replied Charles Larkyns.
"London seems the shortest way to everywhere," said Mr. Fosbrooke; "but you 'll go back home by the coach, won't you, Green?"
And, on Verdant replying that he intended to do so, Mr. Fosbrooke said that he had better have breakfast with him before starting; an invitation which Verdant 
accepted. Little Mr. Bouncer also invited himself, observing that it was his duty to see his friend, Giglamps, safely off the premises, for fear he should surreptitiously elope with old Mrs. Tester. Then Mr. Bouncer's breakfast party broke up, and the men went their various ways, in order to leave Oxford the next day.
In the evening, little Mr. Bouncer went to Effingham's Little-go Wine, given by that gentleman in celebration of his having "got through his smalls," or passed his first year's examination in literis humanioribus, also
called "Responsions." "It was a very close shave, though," said Effingham, in acknowledging Mr. Bouncer's congratulations. "I put on a tremendous spurt during the last month, or else I don't think I should have managed it, although I had the best 'coach' in the 'Varsity. If you will believe me, I never saw the inside of a billiard-room, or touched a cue, all through that month. I can make up for it now, and I bless my stars that it is all over, and that I am well through."
That Little-go Wine was a far from quiet party; and the noise and confusion were not lessened by the songs that were sung, which, for the most part, were given in full chorus—a circumstance, however, which was not at all disagreeable to Mr. Bouncer's feelings; but when songs are shouted or yelled at the top of the voice, and without much attention to time or harmony, the result is anything but musical or soothing. Mr. Smirke was there, none the worse for his ducking of the previous day, but already anything but the better for an injudicious combination of coffee and punch. He had originally declared his intention of sticking to the former; but had gradually relaxed his resolve, and had glided into the punch-bowl. A couple of glasses were quite sufficient for Mr. Smirke, who was not, like the typical Englishman described by lago "potent in potting," but rather resembled Cassio in having such "poor and unhappy brains for drinking" that he "could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment." Like Cassio, too, Mr. Smirke, considering that this last night of Term was a "night of revels," had drunk "one cup that was craftily qualified," and yet had made "innovation," and was so "unfortunate in the infirmity," that he ought not to have dared to task his weakness with any more. Nevertheless, like Cassio, he drank more, and with the same result that befell Othello's lieutenant. After a third and fourth glass of punch, Mr. Smirke became obtrusively disagreeable and noisy.
To mild chaff ensued epea pteroenta and hot language. Supper was on the table, and a Mr. Bulpit, a "Skimmery" man, whom Smirke was addressing in language not borrowed from Chesterfield or Grandison, lost his temper, and flung a slice of tongue across the table into Smirke's face. That gentleman, with the suddenness of movement that he had shown on the previous day, in leaping through the window of the house-boat, instantly returned the compliment with the whole of a cold duck, including the dish. Mr. Bulpit contrived to avoid the latter, which was dashed to pieces against the wall behind him; but he was not sufficiently quick to get out of the way of the cold duck, which struck him full on the nose.
Then ensued a scene of increased excitement and disturbance.