OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE.
THE title of this chapter of my wanderings in England misrepresents my course, for I went to Cambridge first; but custom has so firmly settled that in speaking of the two towns together we shall give precedence to that which is the seat of the elder university that it would seem strange to reverse this order. I set out from London in the company, almost in the charge, of a Cambridge don, a friend who, having met me in the great city, took me off with him, and quietly made himself my host as well as my guide and counselor. I was doubly fortunate, nay, ter quaterque beatus, in having such a companion, for he was one who could have made a journey to Newgate in a prison van agreeable; he knew everything about Cambridge, where his official position gave him access and his personal distinction secured him welcome everywhere; and he had a pride in his university, and just enough good-natured jealousy of her rival to act as a pleasant stimulus in the discharge of the friendly office which he had assumed.
Apart from the colleges, there is not much to be said of Cambridge by way of description; for it has no other distinguishing features or marked character. And yet I found it--I mean the town itself--attractive, pleasing, almost charming, in every way. I know no place in the United States to which, even