ther the hum
of conversation; from a third the tones of a piano. A couple of
undergraduates sauntered on the shady side, arm in arm, with broken caps
and torn gowns--proud insignia of their last term. The grey stone walls
were covered with ivy, except where an old dial with its antiquated
Latin inscription kept count of the sun's ascent. The chapel on one
side, only distinguishable from the "rooms" by the shape of its windows,
seemed to keep watch over the morality of the foundation, just as the
dining-hall opposite, from whence issued a white-aproned cook, did
of its worldly prosperity. As you trod the level pavement, you passed
comfortable--nay, dainty--apartments, where lace curtains at the
windows, antimacassars on the chairs, the silver biscuit-box and the
thin-stemmed wine-glass moderated academic toils. Gilt-backed books on
gilded shelf or table caught the eye, and as you turned your glance from
the luxurious interiors to the well-shorn lawn in the Quad., with its
classic fountain also gilded by sunbeams, the mental vision saw plainly
written over the whole "The Union of Luxury and Learning."

Surely here, thought I, if anywhere, the old world literature will be
valued and nursed with gracious care; so with a pleasing sense of the
general congruity of all around me, I enquired for the rooms of the
librarian. Nobody seemed to be quite sure of his name, or upon whom the
bibliographical mantle had descended. His post, it seemed, was honorary
and a sinecure, being imposed, as a rule, upon the youngest "Fellow."
No one cared for the appointment, and as a matter of course the keys
of office had but distant acquaintance with the lock. At last I was
rewarded with success, and politely, but mutely, conducted by the
librarian into his kingdom of dust and silence. The dark portraits of
past benefactors looked after us from their dusty old frames in dim
astonishment as we passed, evidently wondering whether we meant "work";
book-decay--that peculiar flavour which haunts certain libraries--was
heavy in the air, the floor was dusty, making the sunbeams as we passed
bright with atoms; the shelves were dusty, the "stands" in the middle
were thick with dust, the old leather table in the bow window, and
the chairs on either side, were very dusty. Replying to a question,
my conductor thought there was a manuscript catalogue of the Library
somewhere, but thought, also, that it was not easy to find any books
by it, and he knew not at