the general reader who may not have been brought up within either of those twin "eyes of England," and therefore cannot recognise in either Oxford or Cambridge an" Alma Mater." There is great humour, as well as much vraisemblance in Mr. Lang's sketch of the outline of "a day with the mediæval undergraduate," Walter Stoke, whom he introduces to us as living in lodging in Catte Street, leading from New College to what now is Broad Street, but was then the city ditch. pence; and twelve books only at his beddes heed.' Stoke has not Twenty bookes clothed in black and reed. Of Aristotil and of his philosophie, like Chaucer's undergraduate, who must have been a bibliophile... been a bibliophile..... The great orna ment of his room is a neat trophy of buckler bow, arrows, and two daggers, all hanging conveniently on the wall. Stoke opens his eyes and sees with no surprise that his laun dress has not sent home his clean linen. No Christina, of the parish of St. Martin, who Edward Walford, John Charles Cox, George Latimer Apperson are his black coat, which no one would think dear at fourpence; his tunic, cheap at ten has been detecte of washing for th itted all manner e Spinning Hous on on the laundres he may, runs dow arsons' Pleasure," or I find no tub his room, or, indeed, in the camera of ar other scholar. It is now time to go, n |