The Clever Men Of Oxford,

Well, Well, Perhaps I Am A Bit Of A Talker. A Popular Fellow Such As I Am -- My Friends Get Round Me -- We Chaff, We Sparkle, We Tell Witty Stories -- And Somehow My Tongue Gets Wagging. I Have The Gift Of Conversation. I've Been Told I Ought To Have A Salon, Whatever That May Be.

The Past Was Like A Bad Dream; The Future Was All Happy Holiday As I Moved Southwards Week By Week, Easily, Lazily, Lingering As Long As I Dared, But Always Heeding The Call!

It Is The Restrictions Placed On Vice By Our Social Code Which Makes Its Pursuit So Peculiarly Agreeable.

Toad, With No One To Check His Statements Or To Criticize In An Unfriendly Spirit, Rather Let Himself Go. Indeed, Much That He Related Belonged More Properly To The Category Of What-might-have-happened-had-i-only-thought-of-it-in-time-instead-of-ten-minutes-afterwards. Those Are Always The Best And Raciest Adventures; And Why Should They Not Be Truly Ours, As Much As The Somewhat Inadequate Things That Really Come Off?

Footprints In The Snow Have Been Unfailing Provokers Of Sentiment Ever Since Snow Was First A White Wonder In This Drab-coloured World Of Ours.