"If he gets hold of us, we must make up our minds to have dinner at supper-time; and he so bombards the ears of God with my praises that even I am ashamed.

Let the _supplikans_ complete the service." The _supplikans_, be it explained, was a five years' student (counting not from his birth, of course, but from the beginning of his academical course)--a student _togatus_, as they called it, who ever since he had been immured at college had never set eyes upon a human being.

We can, therefore, picture the terror of the worthy youth when he was informed that, within a quarter of an hour, he must preach an edifying discourse for the special benefit of a whole assembly of genteel backsliders.
He would very much have liked to have crawled away into some hole, but they kept much too good an eye upon him for that, and, perceiving his fear and affliction, the unprincipled mob played all sorts of devilries upon him.

They sewed his pocket-handkerchief fast to the pocket of his toga, so that he could not pull it out when his nose required its help; they made him believe that the gipsy Vidra was the cantor; and finally contrived to substitute a book on veterinary surgery for his prayer-book.
The poor _supplikans_, when he perceived that he had carried a cattle-book into the pulpit, was so dumfounded that he could not even remember with what words the "Our Father" began, so he descended from the preaching-stool again without uttering a word.

They had, therefore, to fall back upon the dean, after all; but they bound him down not to preach, but only to pray; and pray he did--for an hour and a half at least.