The view of the
High-street is magnificent, and must impress the youthful mind with
sentiments of awe and veneration. Its picturesque curve and expansive
width, the noble assemblage of public and private edifices in all the
pride of varied art, not rising in splendid uniformity, but producing an
enchantingly varied whole, the entire perspective of which admits of no
European rival--
"The awful tow'rs which seem for science made;
The solemn chapels, which to prayer invite,
Whose storied windows shed a holy light--"
the colleges of Queen's and All Souls', with the churches of St. Mary
and All Saints' on the northern side of the street, and the venerable
front of University College on the south, present at every step objects
for contemplation and delight. Whirling up this graceful curvature, we
alighted at the Mitre, an inn in the front of the High-street, inclining
towards Carfax. A number of under graduates in their academicals were
posted round the door, or lounging on the opposite side, to watch the
arrival of the coach, and amuse themselves with quizzing the passengers.
Among the foremost of the group, and not the least active, was my old
schoolfellow and con, Tom Echo, now of Christ Church. The recognition
was instantaneous; the welcome a hearty one, in the true Etonian style;
and the first connected sentence an invitation to dinner.
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