LETTER II.

BREAKFAST-PARTIES.

DEAR SOUTH,-Differing so unfemininely, so mathematically, and so classically, from all other societies to which, in contra-distinction, the epithet of worldly may be applied, Cambridge and Oxford may well be considered as two rival and independent states-the Athens and Sparta of our northern clime.* The consequent dissimilarity of their manners and customs has often made it wonderful to me, that we can nowhere find any regular and familiar sketches of Cambridge or Oxford life. Unwilling to inquire whether want of interest might not be one of the causes which produced this, it followed immediately from this wonder that, partly for the sake of amusement to myself, partly from an idea that some small portion might be imparted to others,-I myself commenced a series of letters descriptive of the scenes in which I had been a participator; and of which I had been somewhat of a sentimental, somewhat of a philosophical, observer. I thought that the ladies' man might be curious to learn how we contrived to exist, when no

* I was lately reading an old MSS book of Prophecies (or, rather, no prophecies, since I could have predicted as much), which wisely foretold, that this rivalry would cease, and one of the universities obtain an universally acknowledged superiority; when either Johnian puns should assume the complexion of Attic wit, or Oxford integrity, of Spartan probity-two events equally likely to happen.

longer basking in the life-inspiring beams of female beauty: flattering none, with none to reward our flattery; adoring none, with none to smile on our adoration: that the man of the world might wish to know what were the petty objects of our petty ambition, and the light amusements of our lighter hours; with few to own as masters, and little law to follow, but that of our own imaginations. I thought that the young and gay expectant of college pleasures might joy, while perusing my letters, in the anticipation of days to come; the mature inheritor of cares give a sigh for days gone by; and the gray-headed tenant of the elbow-chair, lamenting that,—

Old times are changed, old manners gone,"

might relate the different scenes of his college life; and, exulting that there were happily no such doings in his time, might stamp his lamentations on the degeneracy of the rising generation, by the weight of reverence and authority which results from the awful shake of his old white hairs.

Such motives produced my last letter to you in the Brighton; but why they should not have been strong enough to elicit another, I cannot so well answer.

Per

haps I was not pleased with my "Water-Parties;" perhaps it pleased not some others of my acquaintance; perhaps I saw in the writer of the "Long Vacation," one who, with an abler pen than mine, would save me the trouble of any farther concern about it. It is of little use adding any more perhapses, since they have all proved ineffectual against your remonstrances. And so, dear South, I send you my second letter.

You will perceive that, in the sentimental part of the

character I have assumed unto myself, I am still inclined to look upon the innocent and blameless part of Cambridge life; and, while I can yet linger around the light, am unwilling to throw up the darker shades. I present things exactly as they are, but take the liberty of choosing what the things shall be which I first present. Hereafter, perhaps, when I come to write on other topics, it may be wished that I had presented things as they are not-but of this anon.

I continue, therefore, with a description of those parties which all will equally allow should be disposed of at the beginning of the day, but of which beginning itself all are not so well agreed; some placing it at the actual dawn, some a little later, and more at noon-day;the gayer part of the community dating from the latter, an hour before, or an hour after, according to the particular influence of sleep upon their eyes; the reading part, and those to whom an imposition from the dean, or a gratuitous lecture from the tutor, would be rather inconvenient, maintaining the pre-eminence of the former. Though ranking myself distinctly under neither head, I choose, at times, to assume all the agreeables of both; and, finding a card on my table,

"T -n, Trin. Coll.

"Breakfast. Friday, 11 o'clock." I hesitated not to accept the invitation, although a breakfast-party, except for the amusements of the day which sometimes follow it, is, in its regular Cambridge meaning, a "style of thing which is my aversion."

Breakfast-parties are, indeed, of all others, the most insufferably stupid. A company of men, some of whom know one another, perhaps; some whose cups are acquainted; and others who have no more than seen one

another's face or gown; reading men and non-reading; mathematicians and fox-hunters; classics and coachmen; Olympic charioteers in theory, and four-in-hand whips in practice; crack empty-bottles, and full bottles cracked; shining stars and will-o'-the wisps: all may meet together in one common room, differing in opinions, manners, and tastes; and only agreeing in the one common point of eating. In this particular, indeed, there is no lack of entertainment: toast and muffins, ham and tongue, ducks and fowls, sausages and beefsteaks, red herrings and anchovies, pigeon pies and veal pies, snipes and wigeons, &c. &c., hot and cold, all vie with one another in most interesting and amiable profusion; and only yield in incongruity to the drinkables: chocolate, coffee, cocoa, tea, ale, porter, soda-water, and, in some instances, different sorts of wines*.

Such were the animate objects (fifteen in number, let be dogs, &c.), and such the inanimate (extending ad n.), which met my view on entering T- -n's room, at half

* To write this description for you alone would be something like sending coals to Newcastle; but I am in hopes that the sweet Brighton belle, as she sips her chocolate in bed, will deign to inquire how we manage these things at Cambridge.-Breakfast-parties, I must also tell her, are generally considered the most popular of our entertainments. The reading men patronize them because they take up least time; the non-reading men because they lead to other amusements; the Simeonite, because, from their very nature, they cannot be so objectionable as some others; the economist, because, being obliged to have some party, they are the least expensive. Some patronize them from convenience, others from choice, and others because they must have parties all day long.

past eleven, on the Friday.-(You remember T- -n: just the same hearty blade as ever-by the by, what think you of T- -n in love?-fact, 'pon honour! “Ah! T, old boy, how are you?”

"Here's a seat-chocolate or coffee?" &c.

When those of the party whom I knew had asked me the usual number of questions, of how long I had been up, &c., and those whom I did not know, had given the usual inspection to my dress, appearance, &c., I was allowed to take my coffee and fowl in peace, and the general conversation, which my presence had for the moment interrupted, was resumed.

Horses and dogs, Newmarket and Melton hunt, stagecoaches and tandems, were severally, at the lower end of the table, the interesting topics of conversation.

P. then bet his horse for a race against Q.'s; and Q. was astonished at his presumption. X. handed his plate for a snipe, and was ready to bet a wager he killed five snipes out of six. Y. laughed at X., and offered to go to the fens that very morning for a trial. An unfortunate Johnian made a pun; but I could only hear the groans which followed it.

At the upper end of the table, occasionally interrupted by the vociferations of the lower, or by the pressing instances of our host to eat, the merits of the different colleges were discussed;-the laxity of some—the discipline of others—the comparative strictness of lecturers or easiness of deans.

The conclusion seemed to be, that Trinity might do very well for those humdrums who patronized learning, but that, indisputably, Christ's was, in general, the sort of thing for a college. The mild and dignified urbanity of its master-the good fellowship of its fellows-the gay