Because he always “gets there,” without any trouble.

That is the sort of boy he is.  How I used to hate him!  If he has a proper sort of father, then he goes to college.  He does no work: there is no need for him to work: everything seems to come to him.  That was another grievance of mine against him.  I always had to work a good deal, and very little came of it.  He fools around doing things that other men would be sent down for; but in his case the professors love him for it all the more.  He is the sort of man who can’t do wrong.  A fortnight before the examination he ties a wet towel round his head.  That is all we hear about it.  It seems to be the towel that does it.  Maybe, if the towel is not quite up to its work, he will help things on by drinking gallons of strong tea.  The tea and the towel combined are irresistible: the result is always the senior wranglership.

I used to believe in that wet towel and that strong tea.  Lord! the things I used to believe when I was young.  They would make an Encyclopædia of Useless Knowledge.  I wonder if the author of the popular novel has ever tried working with a wet towel round his or her head: I have.  It is difficult enough to move a yard, balancing a dry towel.  A heathen Turk may have it in his blood to do so: the ordinary Christian has not got the trick of it.  To carry about a wet towel twisted round one’s head needs a trained acrobat.  Every few minutes the wretched thing works loose.  In darkness and in misery, you struggle to get your head out of a clammy towel that clings to you almost with passion.  Brain power is wasted in inventing names for that towel—names expressive of your feelings with regard to it.  Further time is taken up before the glass, fixing the thing afresh.

You return to your books in the wrong temper, the water trickles down your nose, runs in rivulets down your back.  Until you have finally flung the towel out of the window and rubbed yourself dry, work is impossible.  The strong tea always gave me indigestion, and made me sleepy.  Until I had got over the effects of the tea, attempts at study were useless.