services of the sanctuary, can decline making the admission that, when listening to the deep-toned auxiliary worship of the organ, the feelings of his heart are softened and refined, and the soul inspired with the fulness of an almost seraphic adoration, to Him whom the sweet singer of Israel approvedly praised with pipe and timbrel.

Besides attending chapel and the various classes, as specified, it is imperatively required, by the statutes of the University, that the student dine in the hall of his college, in like manner, four times each week. He, however, finds this no grievous task, but the reverse; as, though faring sumptuously every day, he perceives it to be a matter of no small economy to obey this injunction. Indeed, so reasonable are the fees for attendance and residence in college at Cambridge, that we question much whether a respectable party is not considerably a gainer over the townsman in lodgings, by being provided for according to the stipulations of the syndicate, and within the gates. Attached to each college is an extensive kitchen, in which numerous cooks and assistants are employed; and, on Saints' days, ocular demonstration is given of the experience of these purveyors in administering the creature comforts. The genius of the illustrious Soyer would, in such places, be somewhat jealous of his laurels!

Amongst the masters, professors, and fellows of the University at the present day, are to be found not a few of the brightest minds, in the various walks of

literature-men made eminent by the knowledge and genius which possesses them-living lessons of the blessings of persevering study. In the undergraduate ranks, too, are many original and deep thinkers, wasting not irrecoverable time in sports and pastimes, or in the more objectionable and still less profitable company of the gay daughters of Barnwell-plodding youths, wearing out brains, it may be, over the midnight-oil, but reaping a nobler reward in their loneliness than less thoughtful acquaintances, who feast on the fascinations of their frail sisters in sin, sorrow, and sensuality-poor, penniless profligates of the town, “of easy virtue” and unwomanly spirit.

Many of the most pithy articles appearing in the London monthlies-not a few of the most touching tales and learned disquisitions of our popular periodical literature-proceed from pens that scratch through the livelong night, directed by the rich minds of poor students! There is, within the walls of some of these ancient colleges, a combination of great talents, nearly allied to poverty through improvidence-splendid misery! We have ourselves, more than once, been solicited to pay the postage of a letter to a near noble relative, whose writings have a world-wide reputation, by one who craved the assistance which, but for that want of business regularity peculiar to literary men, need not have been required. And the writer of these letters, too, possessed the finest talents-had written much and reasoned effectively through the

pages of the magazines-this poor skin-and-bone, opium-eating, threadbare man of letters-this skeleton automaton on which a giant intellect performed!— this dark puzzle of sublime intricacy and wonderment, held together by palsied bones and visible sinuosities!

We have drawn no exaggerated picture; for the intercourse of most Cantabs introduces them to similar instances of melancholy and maddened genius, struggling with the misfortunes and inconstancies of a world in which it lives, while, in the frenzy of heated fancy, it looks coldly down on "this dim spot which men call earth"-bound by the iron grasp of necessity, yet soaring aloft in the greatness of imagination -blazing during the brevity of a miserable life, to which its own dreams had bound it, and seeming, in its premature disappearance from this terrene ball,

"Like some fierce comet of tremendous size,

To which the stars did homage as it passed."

The chronicles of Cambridge teem with gorgeous interest, whether we consider, in an archaiological taste, the numerous outward manifestations of its greatness, or waft the mind back, on the wings of its own memory, to a review of the history of great genius embalmed in the archives of past time-men who wedded immortal verse to the most exalted "music, sleeping in the strings" of the lyre from which truth struck the key-note-minds which, living in advance of society, thought for time coming, and wrote

the lesson for times as then in embryo as with living light-poets, long since removed and turned to dust, yet living in their works, and conversing with active men by the pathos of a measured eloquence, which resounds along the corridors of time-statesmen who, in their day, by the power and foresight, strong judgment and natural wit, which characterised their career, excited the wonder of the world, and who, when the will directed, commanded "the applause of listening senates," or made opposing powers to quiver beneath the lash of bitter invective and potency of argument -sculptors, whose chisels wrote, in indelible statuary, the history which affectionate gratitude "would not willingly let die" and the painter, whose pencil portrayed, by that easy faithfulness which marks the observant mind, what of the past was worthy to be preserved! Genius of every cast-intellect variously directed-power exemplified in a diversity of taste and character-all these mingling in the memories of Cambridge, consecrate its halls, and throw a radiance round the studies of aspiring Freshmen, which prompts to "the long majestic march, and energy divine," that alone leads to success and to honour.

R

LINES TO THE CAM.

SWEET stream! while slow meandering round, 'Mid noblest halls and chapels hoary,

Thou kissest Granta's sacred ground,
And bear'st along her classic story;
Oh! whisper to my grateful ear,

Of those the great illustrious dead-
Whose shades, I know, are hov'ring near,
In numerous train, by Genius led.

Methinks, beneath those osiers old,

That weep far o'er thy beauteous breast,

As back ye shed the sunset's gold,

These sainted spirits court thy rest; Yet oft re-echoing music's swell,

Bright flowing with angelic numbers-The organ's peal-the sounding shellMust break upon their softest slumbers.

Mark how the bold historic Muse

Leads onward, through the dimness vast, O'er gems of thought and sweets profuse, The sons of song of ages past;