a master, or head, fellows, doctors, and bachelors. The undergraduates consist of fellows, commoners, pensioners, scholars, and sizars. The government in each college is vested in the master and senior fellows. The prizes and scholarships open to the competition of the whole University amount to upwards of £1,600 a-year. The income of the Uuiversity arises from the rectory of Burwell, a farm at Barton, fees, trading profits of printing, &c., altogether estimated at about £5,500 a-year. After the gallant struggle last 13th of April on the "silver streaming Thames," as Spenser calls it, we can only wish prosperity to both universities, and that the members may ever support the manly sports of" Merrie England." We now turn from the river to the road. A great deal has been written upon ancient and modern travel-rail v. road; and now and then a sexagenarian is to be met with, who raves about the good old days of posting and coaching. We question much, however, whether one in a thousand of persons of the present generation would be content to find themselves dependent solely upon wheels two powerful motives would operate-one, the length of time journeys occupied; the other, the expense of such travelling. Ten miles an hour, including stoppages, was about the average pace; and the charge for a pair of horses, postboy, ostler, and turnpikes, amounted to two shillings per mile: hence a journey of a hundred miles would cost ten pounds with a pair-about twenty with four; in addition to the purchase tax, wear and tear of a travelling carriage. With regard to expenses on the road, good as was the accommodation at many posting-houses, and delightful as was the sensation of driving up to the door of some rural inn, whose porch was covered with the sweet-scented jessamine, the fragrant honeysuckle, the odorous rose, the traveller had to pay for his luxuries. We will suppose that he stopped for dinner, which, if left to the landlord, usually consisted of eels or other fresh-water fish, dressed in a variety of ways, roast fowl, lamb or mutton-cutlets, bread, cheese, and celery, for which a charge of six or seven shillings was made. If the meal took place after dark there was an additional item of two shillings or half-a-crown for wax lights. Then there was a bottle of fiery sherry from the wood, six shillings, or a bottle of fine military port (as a most potent composition was called) seven shillings: to the above must be added the waiter's fee of a shilling per head. Sleeping on the road was equally expensive, as it involved supper or tea, breakfast, chambermaid, and boots. Breakfasts, with ham and eggs, three shillings and sixpence; teas, with a few slices of thin bread-and-butter, eighteenpence or two shillings; a bottle of soda and brandy, eighteenpence. The "tottle" of the whole, as a Scotch reformer used to say in the House of Commons, for two sportsmen journeying to Doncaster, York, or Liverpool, with their valets, would be as follows: £ s. d. Posting, say to Doncaster and back to London, pair of horses 32 8 Beds, breakfast, &c., for two........ Two servants.... 1 8 1 10 10000 If with four horses, an additional sum of....... 35 6 0 32 8 0 £67 14 0 At the present moment, two gentlemen and their two servants may travel to Doncaster and back, including cab fares, for ten guineas, the time on the rail being under five hours each way. Let us now turn to coaching, which in fine weather, on the box, was unquestionably a very agreeable way of travelling; but no pen can describe the misery of sitting for eight or ten hours on a cold, snowy, or rainy day, the dripping of umbrellas penetrating between your neck and the collar of your coat-the inside being even more wretched, especially when you found yourself jammed up with a stout farmer, a fat nurse and child, and some other male or female of awful dimensions. For a day and night of such wretchedness the agony was intense. First of all, you had in winter to be called before daylight; then you had to proceed in a rattling hackney coach to the office, from which the "Wonder," "Telegraph," "Highflyer," or "Regulator" started; then you were hurried over your meals, as the following account of a coach dinner, sketched in 1829, will show: "Twenty minutes allowed here, gentlemen, for dinner," exclaimed the coachman of the "Highflyer," as we drove up to the "Pelican" at Speenhamland. What a scene of confusion ensued! Bells rang-ostlers hollowed-waiters ran. "Please to alight, ladies and gentlemen," said the landlord, addressing the four "insides;" whilst the ostler, bringing a somewhat crazy ladder, made a similar request to the twelve "outsides." The day had been miser. able incessant rain, with a biting easterly wind, accompanied by their coaching consequences-facetious remarks upon "heavy wet" and "cold without." The passengers entered the best parlour, anticipating a warm reception and those creature-comforts which all under such circumstances look forward to. But here the legal adage, that “ possession is nine points of the law," was realized to their dismay. The new comers found every seat near the fire occupied; while a tablecloth covered with fragments and a tray of empty glasses were evident symptoms of another dinner having recently been discussed. "Waiter! waiter!" shouted half-a-dozen voices. A slipshod serving-man entered. "Where's the dinner?" exclaimed the shivering, half-drenched pas sengers. "Beg pardon, gentlemen; the Independent' was rather late to-day: Highflyer' down early.' This colloquy was put an end to by the entrance of a portly man, in a low-crowned hat and a huge caped box-coat, or "upper Benjamin," as it was called. "Gentlemen, time's up for the 'Independent.' Then commenced the process of cloaking, shawling, great-coating and paying; and, after sundry anathemas against the ostler for allowing the seats to get drenched, and a few precautionary hints to "sit fast"-" all right," the "Independent" departed. The "Highflyers" now took possession of the fire, and another ten minutes having elapsed, the landlady entered, attended by sundry waiters bearing dishes with tin covers. The latter were soon removed, and displayed a coarse fat leg of mutton; a huge beefsteak, which proved to be very tough; potatoes, hot without and hard within; and some gritty cabbages. Well might we exclaim with the Englishman travelling abroad: "Bring the vegetables in one plate and the dirt in another." "A slice of mutton for a lady," said the waiter, approaching a stout gentleman, who was helping himself to that part of the joint so highly prized by gourmands, called the "Pope's eye." The direction of the knife was instantly changed, and the lady's plate was filled with a less orthodox ration. "Please, sir, a little fat," continued the waiter, "and a little gravy," added the persevering attendant, looking to an extra fee from an old stager, who invariably sent his demands as from "a lady." Numerous other applications were made to the carver, who, disgusted with his non-sinecure place, helped himself to the coveted delicacy, and requested the waiter to take care of the other passengers himself. "Time flies fast," especially that devoted to pleasure, and none of the party were aware how fast the glass had run, until the entrance of the driver, who informed them that the coach was ready, and that he went no further." Up started the stout gentleman. "Coachman, the time can't be up: I have not eaten a morsel!" "Full twenty minutes, sir," replied. the "dragsman." "Abominable," continued the first speaker: "Who riseth from a feast with that keen appetite that he sits down?" chimed in a stage-struck attorney's clerk, quoting from Shakespeare. "I have," muttered the Daniel Lambert of the party; "and if Shakespeare wrote that, he never could have dined at a coach dinner." Then began that very disagreeable part of the journey-feeing the coachman-followed by another scene of bustle and confusion, scrambling for great coats, cloaks, shawls, umbrellas, and ringing for waiters to bring brandy-and-water, that had been ordered ten minutes before; but "the spirits would not come, though they did call." Then, when half-crowns or shillings were tendered to the waiter, of course he never had any change, which gave the histrionic youth an opportunity of spouting from "Pizarro :" "We want no change, and least of all, such change as you would give us," concluding with the lines from one of Haynes Bayly's popular ballads, then much in vogue: "And were I in a foreign land, Another summons, "The Highflyer just going off," when, lo! the waiter appeared with a tray, containing "one cold without," "four hots with," 'two hots, sugar and no fruit," and "three with the chill off." The "with" and "without" referring to sugar; the " no fruit" applying to "lemon." Fortunate was the owner of the cold beverage, for none but a fire-eater could have swallowed the scalding potations, which, of course, were left as perquisites to the waiters. Amidst the Babel tongues of the establishment: "Please to remember the waiter, sir." "Didn't take for your dinner, sir;" "Glass of brandy, ma'am ;” “A basin of soup and pint of port gone away without paying;" "Chambermaid, ma'am ;"" Ostler, sir; I got you some nice dry straw." "Now gentlemen, sit fast: let 'em go, Jem: I've got 'em," the "Highflyer" dashed off at a rate of eight miles an hour. The above is not an exaggerated statement of what the "road" was some thirty years ago; and when we compare it with the present luxurious way of travelling, we think our readers will congratulate themselves that " steam," ," which has aptly been compared to water in a state of considerable perspiration, has gained the ascendancy over horseflesh. Few of those who peruse these pages will remember the time when a turnpike-gate stood between St. George's Hospital and Apsley House, though many will not be unmindful of those near the Marble Arch, с с Bayswater, and Kennington, all of which were sad nuisances to the metropolis; there was, however, a wide distinction between the official in London and its suburbs, and the rural collector. The latter was generally an uncouth, half-sleepy clod, who, on a moderate calculation, detained you three minutes in procuring the ticket and change, finally placing six or eight pennyworth of dirty coppers and a fresh-written scrap of paper in your palm, to the detriment of clean hands or gloves. The suburban was generally "wide-awake" to everyone and everything. He might be seen in his easy chair before the door of his contracted span-his small white painted " box," smoking a mild Havannah, which the kindness of some sporting passer-by had presented him with, making remarks on passing events; and when none occurred, he would take part in a duet with his blackbird, whose wicker cage hung by his side, and whistled for want of thought. His costume was neat; he was ever on the qui vive! His mottoes were, "No trust;" « Toujours pay, toujours prét." "Hark!" (as Mackheath sings); he hears the "sound of coaches;" his cigar is laid aside, he takes a ticket from a neatly arranged file, cries Twopence," twirls the shilling he has received on his thumbnail, dives into the multitudinous pockets of his white apron, hands out a sixpence and a fourpenny-piece to the nobility, and ten pennyworth of "browns" to the mobility. And what a field he had for contemplation; high life and low life, the royal cortége, the thorough-bred team, the barouche-and-four, the yellow post-chaise and pair, the smart tilbury, the light dennet, the sporting dog-cart, the heavy "bus," the gaudy van, the sable hearse, the hack cab, the tilted waggon, and the Whitechapel cart. The first object that attracted his notice might have been a ponderous, lumbering, rickety hackney coach-we write of the days of the fourth George-the arms emblazoned on the panels, showing that it had once seen better days, a remnant of faded greatness. The coachman, too, might also have shone in the glittering throng of St. James's on a birth-day, and oh! what a sad falling off was there! Instead of the three-cornered hat, of quaint appearance, bedizened with gold lace and feathers, and its smart cockade, a rusty-brown lowcrowned broad beaver, with a wisp of straw for a hat-band. The gaudy livery has given place to an old faded coat, bought in the purlieus of the Seven Dials. Where are the well-curled wig, the silken hose, the silver-buckled shoes, the bouquet, the white gloves, where? Echo answers, "where?" Behind this vehicle might be heard the impatient wheels of a tilbury, guided by a young exquisite in the extreme of fashion; his glossy hat perched slantlingly on his well-oiled, dark, curly hair; his tight frock-coat lined and faced with silk and velvet; the snowy corner of a white pocket handkerchief peeping out of the breast-pocket, perfuming the air with the choicest scents of Arabia; a half-blown mossrose in his button-hole; his black satin stock, wrought in gold flowers, and ornamented with pins of dazzling jewels; his boots shining in all the brilliancy of Day and Martin, and his hands enveloped in light fawncoloured kid gloves. "How much?" asks the dandy. "Two pence" is the reply. A shilling is thrown to the turnpike man. keep the change, old fellow." "Quite the gentleman!" exclaims the collector. Then comes the cabriolet, on its well-balanced springs, plainly painted, though "unadorned, adorned the most." See the owner, "You may how he prides himself on his large horse and small "tiger." "Now, sir," exclaims the driver and mis-conductor of a galloping "bus," with two raw-boned bits of blood, ten outsides and thirteen in, trying to pass the cabriolet. "Don't keep the whole of the King's highway." The unfortunate owner of the cab stops rather suddenly, and finds himself, like the lions at the Zoological Gardens, "stirred up with a long pole." A rival "bus" approaches. "Bank, Bank! City! Bank!" cries the conductor. The driver makes a rush to pass both the vehicles, locks his wheels in that of the cabriolet, leaving it in what the Americans call "a very unhandsome fix." "I hate these French importations and inventions, these homnibusses!" exclaims the gatekeeper; "they're a regular nuisance." Then might be seen approaching a pony-phaeton, with a duodecimo postilion, and a pair of long-tailed Arabians, containing two of England's loveliest daughters. The turnpike man is lost in admiration. Quickly follows the light Whitechapel cart, with a fast trotter, "surrounding objects rendered invisible by extreme velocity," as the owner declares, who by his bull-dog and his costume shows he belonged to the once royally-patronized prize-ring. But, see! a drag approaches; it is the perfection of neatness; body dark blue, slightly picked out with red, under carriage red; two servants in plain liveries behind; four spicy nags-three greys and a chesnut, each ready to leap through his collar, put together with skill, and working beautifully. The "swell dragsman" is evidently a first-rate artist, a perfect master of the science; see how well he has his "team in hand;" he is every inch a coachman. Our turnpike man brightens up, and doffing his hat respectfully, exclaims, "Now, that's what I like to see a gentleman patronizing the road; he's a right regular and right honourable trump, and no mistake." Some fashionable equestrians now appear, who "With their off heel insidious.y aside, Provoke the caper which they seem to chide;" and perhaps a "galloping snob of Rotten-row," since immortalized in song, may be of the train. Half-a-dozen spring-vans, decorated with flags and laurels, containing men, women, and children, barrels of beer, and baskets of provisions, are the East-end Benevolent Society, on their road to Bushey Park, to enjoy a picnic under its stately avenues of horse-chesnuts. ""Tis a poor heart that never rejoices," says the man at the gate, smirking at the females as he gives the ticket. A key-bugle, playing "Love's Young Dream" announces the approach of another "drag;" but what a contrast to the one we have described! It is painted bright yellow, picked out with light blue, evidently an old stage-coach metamorphosed, for a near observer might perceive the words Chatham and Rochester partly defaced, and painted over with a fancy crest and motto; the driver sitting like a journeyman tailor on his board, with one servant behind, in a gaudy livery and gold-laced hat; the horses, one blind, two kickers, and a bolter, evidently meant having a way of their own. "Regular Brummagem," exclaims the man of "no trust;""all is not gold that glitters." Next comes a youth on an animal long in the neck and high in bone, accoutred with a pair of saddle-bags, his twanging horn announcing him to be the suburban postman; the "Herald of a noisy world; |