It has been a most beautiful morning, and I have seen
few pleasanter scenes than this street in which we lodge, with its
spacious breadth, its two rows of fine old trees, with sidewalks as wide
as the whole width of some streets; and, on the opposite side, the row of
houses, some of them ancient with picturesque gables, partially disclosed
through the intervening foliage. . . . . From our window we have a
slantwise glimpse, to the right, of the walls of St. John's College, and
the general aspect of St. Giles. It is of an antiquity not to shame
those mediaeval halls. Our own lodgings are in a house that seems
to be very old, with panelled walls, and beams across the ceilings,
lattice-windows in the chambers, and a musty odor such as old houses
inevitably have. Nevertheless, everything is extremely neat, clean, and
comfortable; and in term time our apartments are occupied by a Mr.
Stebbing, whose father is known in literature by some critical writings,
and who is a graduate and an admirable scholar. There is a bookcase of
five shelves, containing his books, mostly standard works, and indicating
a safe and solid taste.
After lunch to-day we (that is, Mrs.
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