and gentlemanly character of the undergraduates—all received their due praise.

Apropos to masters, W--d begged pardon of the Trinitarians, but could not help d- -g the whole race of "Milk and Waters." Hereupon, the Wordsworthians looked milk-and-watery.

Consequent to this ensued a discussion on poets, in which also some at the lower end joined.

Be maintained that Percy Bysshe Shelley was utterly unintelligible: some thought differently; some thought it was very likely he might be; and some did not think at all.

J-f said that, for his part, he thought Barry Cornwall a devil of a good old chonck. Many seemed at fault; and one poor little gentleman, who had found some difficulty in learning what we were talking about, ventured to ask upon what branches of mathematics the last-mentioned gentleman had written, and whether Mr. J――f thought him equal to Whewell or Peacock?

I, for my part, did just about the same as others, and talked as much sense or nonsense, which you please, as I conveniently could.

An awful pause in the whole conversation, soon after, indicated the conclusion of the first whet. This was at length broken, by an exclamation of S-r's

"C-k! you reprobate! where the devil were you last night—why came you not to my rooms, as agreed?”

"Could'nt find my way, i'faith-completely greased: never so drunk in my life. Dined with B- of Trinity -eighteen bottles of claret among seven of us, let be Champagne. Set out for your rooms-found myself in bed this morning-clothes covered with mud-minus cap and gown -received a polite message from the proctor, that he should

be happy to see me this morning, at half past ten. Told me he did me the honour to see me home last night-found me devil knows where: gave me two hundred lines of Homer to learn-hoped he would'nt think of such a thing: told him I could'nt learn them. All my eye-up to a trick -blow him!"

Here followed, of course, a general comparison of adventures with masters, tutors, deans, duns, snobs, &c. Some had been nabb'd at Barnwell, and some had given the proctor leg-bail; some had thrashed the bull-dogs, and some had bribed them. Some had got their heads broken by snobs, and some had broken snobs' heads. Some had written impositions, but not given them up, and some had given them up without having written them, &c. &c.

Again an attack was made upon the eatables, while the continual exclamations, " Cursed good drink this!”— "Wholesome lap!" &c., told, that the ale, porter, &c., were rapidly approaching to the evanescent state of vanishing fractions.

At length, the thoughts of Hall, and the reflection that it would be quite as well not to be seen drunk in the morning, seemed to have their due effects. The men lounged back upon their chairs or sofa; and a lazy sort of silence ensued, only broken by the occasional civilities of the breakfast-table.

"What! aground? M——"

"You

may say that,―regularly floor'd!"

"And you too, L

"Yes,—done up-shall cut Hall to-day,―have had such a good blow-out here."

When these sort of interjections had also ceased, and the men began to feel they must do something more

than lounge upon the sofa all day, several amusements for the day were proposed, and, among the rest, a water-party. Talking of water-parties," says P., "have you ever seen a description of them in a magazine, called 'The Brighton?"

Q. replied, that reading such things was quite out of his way.

X. said, that any one might have written as much. Y. thought he himself could when he was at school; but now, thank Heaven, it was a very different case ;-he did'nt come to Cambridge to write, and all that sort of thing.

M. spoke of the Brighton as altogether a cursed low style of thing, but the poor wight had better have held his tongue, for he was immediately opened upon from all sides.

"Pardon me, sir, but you cannot have given much attention to it," says I- -f.

"He's a Northite!" whispers S- r.

"He's a radical!"

says

-n. C"He's a Johnian pig!" says B- -S.

"The improvement since the first number is immense!" says T- -n.

"You're right, old boy!" says W

-d.

And, although the ignorant wretch did not perhaps hear all this, yet he was cowed by plenty of black looks. The Brighton, therefore, upon the whole, came off with flying colours; and indeed one gentleman, who seemed to have his information from good sources, mysteriously hinted, that fear of your magazine was the cause of the long-expected Cambridge Quarterly's delay.

The water-party was arranged, and its members departed. Others, according to their reading humours, or

other various engagements, severally made their morning congé, and vanished, till T--n, I▬▬f, W▬▬—d, B- -s, S-r, and myself, were the only remaining loiterers over the breakfast-table.

"Who's a mind for a contemplative walk to the " Byronian Grove?"":

-r,

and

I- -f. "What! you a third-year man, S not know Lord Byron's walk? Out upon you! Come, then, place yourself under our guidance, and you shall not repent it. Wordsworthian as you are, you shall own it as a spot that Wordsworth himself, in his most fastidious moods, might have selected for meditation."

W- -d. "You're right, old boy!"

To Lord Byron's walk, therefore, as nothing better was proposed, we resolved to adjourn. We mounted our caps and gowns-passed by the back of Queen's Coll., and were soon in full progress over the fields to Granchester.

It was sufficient for happiness that there was a clear blue sky above us, and that the pure healthy breeze of an April morn floated around us—but the very nature of a walk forcing too strongly upon us an idea of the constitutional walks of reading men, forbade this happiness to be more than tranquil, while our conversation and amusement by the way was of that character which is so felicitously described in one of the introductory epistles to Marmion:—

"To thee, perchance, this rambling strain
Recals our summer walks again,
When, doing nought, and, to speak true,
Not anxious to find ought to do,

The wild unbounded hills we rang'd;
While oft our talk its topic chang'd.
And, variable as our way,

Rang'd unconfin'd from grave to gay.
full oft we could pursue

Our walk in social silence too."

The country round Cambridge has been frequently depicted as totally devoid of attraction: and it is not difficult to conjecture the causes of such a misrepresentation. Cambridge men are not in general much addicted to a search after the picturesque, and are moreover predisposed to imagine this search would be ineffectual, from the notions of flatness and barrenness which have been imprinted on their minds while pursuing their sports of hunting and shooting over the open country. Others are too much absorbed in mathematical reveries to do more than now and then raise their eyes to calculate the particular distance of some particular object; and the greater number are well contented to see with other people's eyes, and to say just what they hear said by others. That it is a misrepresentation, however, you are fully aware; and let the sweet Brighton beauty be willing, till she can visit Cambridge, to see with my eyes; and when I shall be at Brighton, I will readily promise that the light of her's shall colour all my objects. Let her accompany us in our walk, to where an extended green, sloping gradually to the Cam, and bounded on the flank by a rural hamlet, indicates the vicinity of the village of Granchester. Here let her pause, and, turning in the direction of the Cam, which rolls below at the distance of about 150 paces, she will see, "I ween, a full fair sight." Directing the eye