The time now drew nigh when the few picked men, who had resisted the temptations of idleness and escaped the perils of Mathematics, were to fight out their last great battle. Trinity Scholars, University Prize men, outsiders from Small Colleges, double men (these the fewest of all) mustered from all quarters. We made a very small show numerically, only twenty-six candidates out of the whole year, which might be set down in round numbers at three hundred and fifty men. At least live who had intended to augment our numbers were killed off in the Mathematical Tripos. Nineteen of us were reading for the First Class, so that there was a pretty extensive prospect of sells. Out of the twenty-six sixteen were Junior Optimes, so that allowing a few to be trying their luck in Classics only for the chance of piecing out an inferior Mathematical degree, it was pretty clear that full half of the candidates had read Mathematics for no other purpose than to enable them to display their knowledge in the Classical Tripos. Of the remainder, five were Wranglers, four of these Double men, and the fifth a favorite for the Wedge. Two men who had been rivals all the way through school and through College were racing for Senior Classic. After these two more were known and spoken of as nearly equal, and then “it was any one's place.”