Connecticut western news., 1895-06-13
A FRESH PROFESSOR.

A FRESH PROFESSOR.
 I Twas an undergraduate and he was don of Exham college, Oxford. We both bore the same name - Unwin-Jones. Why Dame Fate should have gifted two such antitheses with similar names, why she should have brought us to one and the same college is inscrutable. Ido not upbraid. I thank her from the bottom of my heart. forget the frayed shirts, "dickeys" and antediluvian collars of Don Jones that the laundress fathered on me. do not regret my wines, but not the bills therefor, that went to his cellar instead of to my humble cupboard forgive the torn envelopes in ladies' hands marked "not for Professor Jones' everything, and why?
 It was sunny afternoon in the merry month of May as returned at 5 o'clock, in fannels and blazer, from an hours Tagging at the cricket nets, and tripped up tho stairs of my digs" that over looked the dear old college gardens, whistling "Oh, Phyllis Minep' I burst open the door, and -"Are visions about?" came the lightning thought, as I saw, seated in the armchair by my window, gazing out on the glories of the horse chestnuts opposite, one of the-nol the (vide subsequent events ')--most charming little girls I have ever seeni By the side of the armchair was a lec- ture note book, and what I knew only too we'll to be Herr Crammer's "Latin Prose. D She rose, bowed -deferentially, and somewhat nervously began: "Oh, Professor Jones, I am so sorry am late Mir. Boothby of Gamaliel said he hadn't time to look over my prose, and asked me to bring it to you at :45, and said, as you sometimes took his work, you would correct it for mo-"
 saw it all, or rather I saw nothing but her-slim, petite, with stray strands of nut brown hair peeping from beneath a dainty straw hat trimmed with mar guerites. The porter had directed her to my rooms instead of to those of the pro- lessor q gave him sovereign at the end of term). One more to the long list of mistaken identities, but worth them all Should undeceive her? And I thought of the dryasdust Jones. He was the sea monster, was Perseus, and she was Andromeda. "A thousand times no, 7" said my heart. I shall be professor for 30 minutes! With all of him could muster, and re-enforced by my gold rim
 "Ah h!-er-let me see, what-or-is your name?"
 "Ethel Mayner," said Ethel-red, for the rosy hue had mounted to her cheek, as it did to Virgils Venus, ''I'm-I'm one of MT. Boothby's extension pu- pills"
 "Of course," I said and looked pro fessorially at card Ipicked up, "here's your name. !"
 It was card of the XL's summer term fixtures. Inwardly I vowed it would be moro "extension'" than "lec- ture.' But did she think was pro- lessor? Could she not see my chin, in nocent of razor-the galaxy of London actresses on my mantelpiece, the hunt ing sketches, my bat on the table, the siphons cheek by jowl with McTavish s "best?" Did professors play banjos and whistle "Oh, Phyllis Mine," as they bounded up to unravel the mysteries of "Oratio Obliqua' with fair pupils? stifled surmise and lived only in the present and the sunshine of-Ethel She resumed her seat, and rang the bell | Up came the landlady.
 Bring up tea for two, Mrs. Grabbs, '" I said, "and send out for the best cake | Boffins have in the show-I-er-yuean the premises. .- "Oh, professor, she interposed, "please don't trouble about tea for me. " 1 Madam" I rejoined, i've cannot discuss the position of Caesar in winte, | quarters or that plebeian bricklaye1 Balbus without some light refreshment. | Come, let us commence. Bring youl chair up to the table," (Oh, how bruta! | of mel And would have carried il miles for her dear sake, but was g professor. And she drew her chair SC close to mime that I could almost Page 21," grunted, with a beating heart, for I knew that the sentences were plain sailing till about page 80.
 "Oh, no," she said, I'm at page 210r
 My heart sank, at least such of it a. was not in my mouth. How could 1 twice plowed fresher essay the snare' and pitfalls of page 210?
 "The passage begins," she contin ued, " The rotation of crops' and end at rustic simplicity.
 It was hope less. She, Ethel-well-read was an "Honors" candidate, and l, thu unread-y, nothing but manufacture of "howlers" and classical faux pas.
 "Er-er, ah-let me see, er''- | I gasped, and her deep brown eyes
 with look of incipient perplexity, me mine. Her hands were toying with tn handle of my bat. Would it had beel mel
 1T used the word rotatio," she said "I hope it's not too doggyf"
 "Oh, no," I sighed, "it's an excel
 lent word-used by Bohn, believep'
 How could any word she used b
 wrong? ] thought only of the miserabl
 Don Jones from whom had saved her Then Mrs. Grabbs came in with the te
 and cake.
 "Ethel, a-er-Miss Mayner, l be
 your pardonl Do let me pour you out
 cup of teaP'
 The emphasis was more undergradr
 atey than professorial, the work of in
 pulse rather than discretion, but prr
 dence was out when beauty was in.
 "Oh, thank you," she smiled "Yo
 are dear good old manp q had jul } turned IS. I good? A hypocrite in | foo1,c poradioa n SRut wa doO't aaal